Dear Joe Leiberman,

Can you see anything with your head so far up the Republican elephant’s ass?

Love,
Sarah

Breaking News!

Today I baked 72 chocolate chip cookies.

From scratch.

Me.

I baked.

And they were edible.

Me. Baking. Edible.

Yesssssssssss.

Dear Minivan Mom,

I understand your need to pick up your child. How every second in his life needs to be accounted for. As an employee caring for a child, I myself am responsible for the welfare of a child. Now that we’ve established that we both care about our children, let’s clear a little something up. There are many of us waiting in this line of cars to pick up our preschoolers, many of us. There is enough room for all of us. We are all moving at the same speed, we will all get to the same place in the same amount of time. Minivan Mom, just because you honk your horn does not mean I will pull my car forward the four feet distance between the Hummer in front of me, and your soccer mom minivan behind me. You can keep hitting that horn, but I am not going to move. Not until there’s more than 4 feet to travel.

Sincerely,
Sarah

What is WRONG with you people?

Two nights ago, I found myself standing in the driveway outside my car, arms outstretched, catching snowflakes on my tongue. Big fat snowflakes that fall heavily and make the best snowballs. It was perfect, standing there in the yellow of the driveway spotlight with snow falling softly around me. Moments like that you really want to share with someone. The little kid in your heart catching snowflakes on his or her tongue.

So, when I entered my bedroom, I instant messaged a friend of mine, expressing my at catching snowflakes on my tongue. I quote “weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!”. I expected that my joy would through some form of internet osmosis be shared with my friend, only to have my perfect little snow bubble popped by his “I hate snow.” When I dejectedly inquried as to why, my friend said that if it snowed, his flight would be cancelled.

To which I responded – SO WHAT? So your flight gets cancelled. It isn’t the end of the world. If your flight gets cancelled, others flights will have been cancelled, so whoever’s on the other side isn’t going to not hire you / hate you / fire you / cause you pain in anyway just because you can’t make it that one day. So, your flight was cancelled. Too much snow. Great! Go outside and play in the snow! Catch snowflakes on your tongue! Enjoy your life, you worker bees of America! Stop and smell the snowball hitting your face! Fun! Life! Good!

I thought that one hit was enough. But when I mentioned at dinner how joyous I was at the snow my mom said “It doesn’t matter, it’ll all melt by tomorrow.”

Thanks, Mom.

My Personal Presidential Address Drinking Game

Use of the word Freedom
Use of the word New
Use of the word Prevail
Misuse of Grammar
Anything intelligent

I don’t know how to make a drinking game. Someone set the number of shots per item. And add more items. Cool, thanks.

WHAT THE #*$(@#($*&#$(#@*?!?!?!

Who writes George Bush’s speeches?

And does that person know that he or she is doing nothing to up his intelligence factor.

And about this whole presidential address thing, does anyone else want to smack him up? Like really just beat him? Just for being a royal idiot?

You Certainly Don’t See it Everyday

She sat at the table, desperately in need of a booster seat. In one little hand she clutched a fork stabbed directly into the center of a large hot dog, and she was nibbling away at the end. With her other hand, she surreptitiously dabbed at her mouth, glancing around to make sure that no one noticed the crumbs and ketchup that dotted the side of her broad lips. She had an array of food in front of her, far more than a woman of her stature should have been able to contain, and she sampled everything in front of her. She glanced at me. I turned away quickly, so she wouldn’t notice my staring at her, observing. She wore a brown wool cap tight to her head, obscuring any hint of hair. She swam in her gigantic, well worn mink coat. Finally, she hopped down from her lofty position and left.

And that was the little old lady in the big mink coat at the hot dog joint.

The Shadiest Night Ever

Somehow last night, without the aid of drugs or alcohol, two friends and I found ourselves at the McDonald’s drive thru at midnight. The witching hour for the munchies.

And that makes me wonder.

I know that McDonalds makes a great deal of profit from the morbidly obese, but how much profit does it make from stoners with the munchies? More or less than that of Taco Bell? And if that’s the case, in meeting about demographics, is there a “munchies” demographic? Can you picture them in a roundtable discussion? “Well, Bill, our studies show that most young marijuana users smoke up around 11 pm, so we need to be open for business between 11 30 pm and 3 am. And we must have fries. That’s a must.” I bet they do have meetings like that. And I think Ronald McDonald is on drugs.

College Aged Male? Primate? College Aged Male? Primate? College Aged Male? Ameoba?

It’s de-evolution at it’s best. Just when you think they can’t get any more stupid, they keep proving themselves less and less worthy.

First I was told it was just a certain species of College Aged Dudes (CADs) that were flat out brainless, the freshman. Then I discovered that all CADs are the same. Ages 19 – 22.

Aside from the obvious lack of table manners, decorum, and cleanliness, CADs also lack a sense of time and space.

Let me give a few examples.

CAD 1
Age 22
Methods: Stops speaking to parties when upset. Makes no attempt to amend the situation.
Comments: First of all, we’re in college, not middle school. The silent treatment does nothing but make you look like an imbecile. Second of all, in kindergarten we learned how to repair situations when we fought. I, for one, took those lessons to heart, especially as I grew older. CADs forgot this lesson in first grade, thus proving their lack of memories.

CAD 2
Age 20
Methods: Asks to spend time with a girl in the evening. Agrees to call at 930. 930 arrives. 945 arrives. 10 arrives. A call is made to CAD. Other plans have been made. In fact CAD 2 was waiting for the plans to call when he made said other plans with the girl. Apologizes. Calls back. Thanks for dinner invitation.
Comments: Common courtesy, one should always call on time, even if one intends to cancel engagement. There are 5 minutes of leeway on either side. Is it really that difficult to check a watch? I mean CADs have big wrists, what better to use them for than on which to place a watch? Thus the lost sense of time.

Now really, I’m a wonderful person.

Don’t I deserve to be treated like a lady? Really?

What sick and twisted fantasy world of tacky perfume are girls living in today?

A friend of mine sent me an email message with a title something along the lines of “how to treat a girl”. I read it and gagged the entire way through. I swear, pink sparkles were flying out of my computer. Sugar plum fairies whirled on my screen. And it was a pure text document. It was just the image it presented. So, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you how to treat a girl, and how I feel about said treatment.

Smell her hair. What the hell? Don’t smell my hair you wierdo.
Pick her up & pretend you’re going to throw her in the pool…she’ll scream & fight you but secretly, she’ll love it. You take me anywhere near the pool and it’s so over between us.
Hold her hand while you talk, while you drive. I’d actually prefer you keep both hands on the wheel, hot shot.
Just hold her hand. Unless you’re driving. Or cooking. Or in a boxing match.
Buy her flowers…just because. If you’re dating me, you should know me well enough that I kill plants just by touching them. I prefer chocolate. Or platinum.
Tell her she looks pretty. Pretty? You can’t think of a more descriptive adjective than that? That’s it, we’re over.
Look her in the eyes when you talk to her. Well I’d prefer it if you weren’t blatantly looking at my breasts.
Protect her. From what? The super villains prowling suburbia at night?
Spend time with her…alone. Actually, I’d prefer it if I spent time with you AND your imaginary friends.
Tell her stupid jokes. Well then, don’t try to win me over with intelligence.
Tickle her, even if she says stop. If I say stop I mean stop. Haven’t you ever heard of assault?
Slow dance with her. This one’s okay. I don’t mind a little Gene Kelly.
Let her fall asleep in your arms. But don’t try any funny stuff.
Get her mad, then kiss her. What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?
Tease her. Please don’t.
Let her tease you back. Do I look like I’m 4? Oh I guess I tease a little bit.
Stay up with her when she’s sick. If you want to catch my illness go ahead. But if I have mono, and it’s your fault, I’m beating you to a bloody pulp.
When she hangs up on you, call her back…when she doesn’t answer, call her back again. If I hang up on you, I don’t want to talk to you, asshole.
Kiss her forehead. What, you’re not willing to lean over and kiss me on the lips, you lazy bum?
Let her wear your clothes. In public? I’d look like a freak.
Go slow. Dont push anything. Yeah, because Rape is never a good thing to have on your record.
Kiss her in the rain, & when you fall in love with her, fall hard and tell her that. And then, we can ride off into the sunset on a my little pony while smelling like fresh strawberries! Oh will you Prince Charming, will you?

Special thanks to Marisa who enjoyed mocking this heartily with me.