Friday, April 30, 2010

Can I At Least Have a Queen Sized Bed in Hell?

Last October, I decided it was a good idea to have a high school reunion party at my house. Why did I think this? Because I'm a fucking moron, apparently. Stupidest. Idea. Ever.

I sent out a facebook invite (because that's how the cool kids do it these days, yo) to everyone who graduated with me to invite them to this kickass party at my house the weekend before Halloween. I planned it a month in advance, and I counted down the days. I lost five pounds and bought a new dress that made me look smoking. I bought cups, beer, vodka, orange juice, and downloaded some old school rap songs. (What Would You Do by City High, anyone?)

Then the day of the party came.

I should probably let you know that I'm a little crazy sometimes. I'm the kind of girl that WANTS to get along with everybody, and I usually do. I want everyone to like me, even if it's someone that I don't like. Which makes no sense, by the way. So, on party day, I started getting this huge sense of dread that no one was going to show up because they all hated me.

The party was supposed to start at 8:00, and my friend came over at 7:30 to help me avoid the run-in with the Firster.

(The Firster - n. The first person to arrive at a party. He/She usually does not know the host/hostess very well. The Firster typically creates a very awkward evening.)

At 8:30, NO ONE was there. Me and my friend (along with our boyfriends) had started a bonfire and were drinking screwdrivers. So what do you do when no one shows up to your party? You take a motherfucking shot!

Then, low and behold, a few people showed up! And what do you do when the first guests arrive at your party? You take a motherfucking shot! And chase it with your screwdriver!

But, what? Wait. It's someone's birthday? You know what we have to do now, right? Take a motherfucking birthday shot! And make another screwdriver to chase it with!

I have no clue how many shots I took in the first hour of that party, but DAMN. I was plastered. And then... people started showing up. Lots and lots of people. Apparently, they didn't hate me. I don't even remember all those people rolling in. One second, I was sitting alone on the couch, and the next? I was stumbling out onto the porch to see 20+ people playing beer pong.

The things that happened after that moment were not pretty. I threw up in the bathtub, was carried to my bed, and proceeded to empty my stomach of everything I'd eaten in the past ten years into a trash can. Fiancee sent everyone home, and that was the end of that.

Except it wasn't.

Because I dry heaved for TWENTY-FOUR hours after that party. And in between crying, puking, and asking Fiancee to just kill me so this could be over, I realized something.

I am obviously a weak drinker and need to start doing shots EVERY weekend so I can get better.

Other really exciting events that happened at this party that I don't remember?
1. Trying to hug my friend but pulling her in the mud when I fell down.
2. Almost falling in the bonfire multiple times.
3. Running around with no shoes on in the mud.
4. Spilling drinks on EVERYONE.

Ah, memories.

Which reminds me of another party I had at my old apartment and is the reason for the title of this post. This is what transpired after too many screwdrivers.

I would write an entire post about that night, but I'm not so sure I want God to have hard evidence of my sins.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

I'd Like To Thank God For This Award... / Weigh-In Wednesday *UPDATED*

So I got a bloggy award! When I found out, I ran to find Fiancee and tell him because I was freaking excited. That's not incredibly lame, right? Well, Katie over at Date Me, D.C.! was kind enough to give me the Sunshine Award. Apparently my posts about old man peen and perverts brings a little bit of sunshine to her day. Thanks, Katie!

If getting a bloggy award wasn't fun enough, there's also rules to go along with it because apparently they know how much I love breaking rules. Here they are:

1. Put the logo on your blog within your post.

2. Pass the award on to twelve bloggers.

3. Link to the nominees within your post.

4. Let them know they received this award by commenting on their blog.

5. Share the love and the link to the person from whom you received this award.

Since I'm such a daredevil (watch out, I might run with scissors later!), I'm only going to do five bloggers. Mainly because I don't want to annoy twelve people who are way too busy to notice little old me.

1. Night Writings. In another life, I'm pretty sure she is my soul mate. Is it possible to fall in love over the internet? If so, is it possible to creep a fellow blogger out by professing my love this way? On a serious note, this chick is great. I'm pretty sure if she lived around here, I would force her to be my friend because she seems like that much fun. Who else would have a drunk nerf gun fight in their apartment?

2. Memoirs of a Korean. I've been reading Tony's blog for a while now. I used to read it like a ninja, never leaving comments. But now it's nice to be a little less creepy and let people know I'm there. Listening to him talk about his fiancee is incredibly sweet (how about you teach mine something?) and his stories about his past always make me want to know more. Also? Me and my fiancee constantly say "I am not a fox. Mr. Chow is not a fox." Then we laugh hysterically. Don't know what I'm talking about? Go read his blog!

3. Calling People Names. A fellow Southern blogger! Aly is amazing. The first time I stumbled on her blog, I went back to read all her archived entries because I'm stalker material like that. She's a great writer and seems like the kind of girl that could make any lame situation fun. I can't count the number of times I've laughed ridiculously loud at work when I was reading her blog. I'm still waiting for her to rewrite that threesome post...

4. Living Shallow, Living Well. I don't even know her name! I think it's the mystery surrounding my friend LSLW that intrigues me. You never know what you're going to get when you see a new post. I imagine she leads a fabulous life because how could you not with such a hilarious sense of humor?

5. Steam Me Up, Kid. Words cannot begin to describe how hard I laugh reading this blog. I read it out loud all the time to Fiancee, and he loves it, too. She's disgusting, disturbed, and amazing. There are probably moments that you will cringe reading her blog, but I assure you it's worth it. And if you only have time to read a few, please check out the Nana posts. I had to read those to Fiancee through tears I was laughing so hard.

So all three of you who read my blog -- go look at theirs! You won't regret it!


Now that the exciting stuff is over, on to the dreaded Weigh-In Wednesday update.

Not much to talk about because my first Weight Watchers meeting was last night. I'm at 189.2 which is a 0.6 pound loss since last Friday. Hopefully, I'll keep this up because I wanted to die a little inside when I went to a Chinese restaurant for lunch with co-workers today and ordered a plain old salad. Here goes nothing...


I'm burning calories at work! I'll let you know next week how well this idea works. Oh, and I'm getting laughed at every time someone walks by my desk so YOU'RE WELCOME.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Getting Personal Up In Here

I haven't really posted anything about me yet so I thought I would give it a go. Here are five things about me that might make you realize just how sad and pathetic I really am.

1. I get terrified walking down stairs. I'm good going up them, but I freak the fuck out walking down them. I have this fear that I'm going to trip and fall all the way down. It made my vacation to NYC very tricky what with all the stairs to and from the subway.

2. (Count how many ball jokes you can come up with here.) I know how to juggle. I taught myself because the owner of the dance studio I went to asked me if I would for the opening act. I got really good at it and even taught my dad how to do it, too. The night of the recital came around, and I was ready to go. I walked out on stage with my balls out (1) and noticed that the stage lights were ridiculously fucking bright. I tried to juggle, but I couldn't see where the balls were to catch them (2). I was all the way upstage when I dropped one ball (3), and it rolled right off the stage. I tried to improvise and just juggle with two when I dropped the second ball (4). I'm pretty sure I just stood on stage looking like I was about to cry for the rest of the opening. It was a really great moment for me.

3. I think that everyone has a little bit of OCD in them, and I have one, too! I run my nails from one hand under my nails of the other hand. (Oh, God. Does this make sense? I think I'm sounding a little crazy now.) Anyways, when I start the nail process, I have to do EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. of my nails or I cannot rest. I have had people honk at me at red lights because I wouldn't go until I was finished with my nails. Fiancee is already used to this little habit. He knows when he's trying to hand me something to wait until I'm done with my nails.

4. I used to pretend I was a dog. I would walk around on all fours, fuck with the family dog, convince my family to pat me on the head and bark. The whole damn she-bang. And I was twelve. My parents should have known something was wrong with me right then. They love telling this one, and I have never brought a boyfriend over that didn't hear that story. And after they tell that one, I have to pull out a story about one of my family members to even it out. Our family dinners are never over until someone has left the table in a huff and slammed a door behind them. I promise we love each other. Sometimes.

5. I snuck out of my house on a weekly basis when I was fifteen to go meet my boyfriend who lived down the road. We made out a lot. After our make-out session, my mouth was sore, and my face was covered in spit. It was super romantical.

*I just had to add that I noticed someone found my blog by googling "fuken sexy very small girl". Um, hey, whoever that was? You have most definitely got the WRONG girl. I am absolutely fuken sexy, but small? Notsomuch.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Weigh-In Friday?

Tabatha over at Probably Tabitha had a great idea for Wednesday posts. And since I don't post that much anyways, I figured I would join in. Wednesdays are officially.... (drumroll) Weigh-In Wednesdays! The most dreaded day of the week!

I guess I should give a little bit of background about myself to start this off. I have never been skinny. My body isn't built to be skinny. I always complained about my body in high school. Little did I know, I should have been thankful for the size I was at the time. I weighed 150 pounds at 5 feet 8 inches, and that is what I want to weigh again. I weigh 190 pounds so that's forty motherfucking evil pounds that need to DIE.

I have no problem working out. I actually really enjoy it. I like going to the gym, running on the treadmill, yelling at Jillian Michaels when she asks me to do horrible, painful things that my body is just not able to do. The exercising part is not the part that gets me.

It's the FOOD. The dreaded, horrible, no good food. Food brings joy to my day. I'm sure you've heard that saying, "Eat to live, don't live to eat." That pretty much describes my life. I live to eat. I look forward to dinner like kids look forward to Santa Claus. I sit at my desk at work, visualizing what I'm going to eat for dinner, mouth salivating like a fucking dog. It's disgusting, really.

So I have to change my eating habits, but I can't diet. Diets just don't work for me. I don't like being told what to eat, when to eat it, and how much of it to eat. (ODD, maybe?) So I have decided rather than dieting, I'll be making a lifestyle change. With Weight Watchers. I'll be going to meetings every Tuesday evening so it will be just in time to write my Weigh-In Wednesday post.

If anyone else is interested in doing Weigh-In Wednesday, check out Tabitha's blog and let her know. She'll be linking Weigh-In Wednesday posts from there.

Official starting weight: 190 pounds
Goal weight: 150 pounds

It's going to be a long, miserable, shitty ass ride. If you see a fat, sweaty girl on the side of the road, crying... please don't point and laugh.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010


The other day, Fiancee and I were driving home from Wal-Mart when he saw four or five large piles of hay for all the cows to eat. (Is this just a southern thing?)

Fiancee: I want to set all those piles on fire right now.

Me: You wouldn't have time to set them all on fire. The police would be here in ten minutes, and you would get arrested. Unless you could morph into a cow or something to disguise yourself. But then what if you didn't have time to morph back into a human and you got picked for slaughter?

Fiancee: I wouldn't be picked for slaughter. Those aren't even slaughter cows! Besides, I would change back in plenty of time.

Me: You don't know that you'll have time to change back. And I don't want to be eating you at Sonic later this week because you were too dumb to think this plan through. Maybe you could just change into a bird and fly off.

Fiancee: I'll change into a lion. Nobody will kill a lion.

Me: They'll catch you and put you in a zoo. Then I'll never see you again!

Fiancee: Hello? I'm a lion. I'll just run away really fast into the woods.

Me: Woods? What the fuck, Fiancee? There aren't woods around Walmart anywhere.

Fiancee: Sara, it's LOUISIANA. It's all woods.

Me: Can you please just turn into a bird? You don't seem to understand the rules behind animorphing. And I'm a professional. I read every single Animorphs book there was.

Fiancee: I'm turning into a lion. End of discussion.


Me: Maybe a cheetah?

Finacee: *glare*

It's a good thing one person in this relationship knows how the animorphs world works. Otherwise, I'm not sure this thing between us would last.