Thursday, December 22, 2011

It's a Very Sweet Valley Christmas

Nothing much ever happens in BloggyLand around Christmas. It's mostly a lot of refreshing pages, watching the same video over and over, and knocking your skull into a wall because the Internet has officially died. I swear, I have looked at every single corner of the Internet this past week, and THERE IS NOTHING LEFT.

Since I'm bored as shit, I figure some of you might be bored as shit, too. Which is why you should read the Snark Squad's recaps of the most insanely amazing Sweet Valley miniseries to ever grace us with its presence. There are seven books, and seven recaps, so you can waste your entire day at work reading about Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield. Even if you've never heard of Sweet Valley, I can guarantee you that this series is worth it. Clickety click here to get started.

So Merry Christmas everyone! I hope your last few days at work don't make you stab yourself in the face too many times!

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

My Christmas Tree Didn't Almost Make Me Get a Divorce This Time!

My blog has been awfully lonely lately, because apparently all of my thoughts for the last month have been in 140 characters or less which doesn't really make the best blog post and also makes me feel like a pretty unintelligent person. But I have ALL. THIS. ENERGY. on account of lots of Starbucks and also because I'm snorting lines of Christmas like a baller, son. (I had to message Lorraine to make sure that's how baller was spelled. She said that's how she spells it, and if two people on the Internet say something is true, it automatically becomes true. Baller it is.)

Speaking of baller, I finally got my Christmas tree put up. And it wasn't anywhere near as tragic as last year's Christmas tree dramz.

The spray bottle is for giving the cat a big FUCK NO when she tries to climb the tree.

Andy was being all Christmascroogey for a minute there, but once we got the Christmas tree, he stopped complaining about all the "damn Christmas music" and "freakin' Christmas decorations" everywhere. We decided to go to Toys R Us and get two presents for Toys for Tots: one for a girl and one for a boy. Andy declared that his present would be better because boy toys are cooler, and I was all UM. LOL, NO, because girls have dress up things and dolls and pretend makeup and motherfuckin' Barbie, who runs the entire country. (No shit, you guys. She's a police officer, a teacher, a doctor, a streetwalker. Bitch is busy.)

But then we went in the toy store. I will admit defeat when I have to, y'all. BOY TOYS ARE SO FUCKING COOL OMG. They have fucking dinosaurs with robot guns on their backs, remote controlled sharks that will eat your face off, and army men battlefields all over the place. When we walked down the aisle with the full-size G. I. Joes, Andy kept saying, "Oh my God! My Army men would love this!" and "Sara, you have got to come over here immediately to see this Lego set" and "WE NEED TO HAVE A KID."

All the parents shopping for their kids looked frazzled, miserable, and exhausted. We, however, were having the time of our lives, playing with all of the toys and SQUEEEE'ing over things we didn't have when we were kids. I had to tell Andy to stop talking shit about the slutty off-brand Barbies, and he had to tell me that army men don't need to have a whole life story before they die in battle and when they finally do die, please stop making it so overdramatic.

We both eventually picked our toys out and met up in the middle aisle.

When I said that Joe was pretty sexy, Andy told me to stop hitting on his army man.

Turns out, we'd picked out the perfect couple! We decided that G. I. Joe is actually the prince in disguise. See, he wants to fight for his country, but if anyone knew who he was, they'd blast his face off in a heartbeat. So he stays undercover, all the while dreaming of the day when he can finally come home and be with Blair Barbie forever. I mean, look at her. She's hawt. Also, she comes with a slutty schoolgirl outfit.

Now could one of my friends / siblings / acquaintances please hurry up and have a freaking baby so me and Andy can play with all of these toys for real?!

G. I. Andy & Sara Barbie

Oh! Also! I made a Best Of page, mainly because I wanted to make sure my Snuggie GIF never dies. Ch-ch-check it out! 

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


Granddaddy first met my grandma at her job. She worked with her best friend at a little store in Mississippi. Granddaddy's friend had seen Grandma before and was interested, because she was a beautiful woman. He sent my grandfather in to the store to set up a date between the two of them. My granddad was supposed to ask her best friend out and make it a double date.

But because Granddaddy is so awesome, he decided that he wanted Grandma for himself. So when he went in, he asked her if she'd like to go drive with him and got her best friend to agree to go out with his own best friend instead.

They went driving that night after my grandma left work because "that's what we did back then!" my grandma always says. They immediately liked each other and went out every night for the rest of the week. At the end of that week, my granddad had to leave because he was in the military and had received orders. 

While he was gone, they exchanged letters constantly. Over the course of a few months, they fell in love via the written word. When he returned home, he immediately went to see her and asked her to marry him. She said yes, and before you know it, they were at a justice of the peace, signing legal documents and becoming husband and wife.

50+ years later, they were still married. After two daughters, serving in Vietnam, six grandchildren, and one great grandchild, my granddaddy passed away.

The day before he passed, he wasn't having an easy time. He was in and out, there and not there, lucid and gone. My grandma was sitting in front of him, holding his hands, and talking to him. He kept saying, "Mama... Mama..." again and again. "Is Mama home?" he asked his wife. "Yes, James, she is," my grandma replied, not wanting to clarify that his mother was in her heavenly home. "Beautiful eyes, Mama," he said, as if he were talking to his deceased mother. "Mama's home... and I'm going home," he told her.

Later that night, he was being put in bed by his nurses. As they were getting him ready, he requested that they send his wife in to tuck him in. "She knows how to do it," he told them. She put him in bed, and that was the last moment they had together. 

The next day, he passed away.

I know that he didn't die alone, because his mother came to get him and take him with her. I don't think he was scared at all. I think he was ready to be with his mother and brother in Heaven at last.

At the funeral, everyone spoke of how my grandfather was one of the funniest people they ever met. Even when he could barely walk, he still made it to church, he still made fun of people, and he still found ways to drive my grandma crazy.

He was a skilled carpenter who could make any animal I requested. He was a war veteran, who had accomplished so much in his 20+ years in the military. He grew up a poor boy on a farm and built an entire life with his family, thanks to hard work and dedication. You never knew if a story he was telling was true or not, but I always liked to believe they were.

He once told us about the time he hitched a ride with a neighbor on the way back from town. He rode in the back of the truck with his friend and noticed that there were bags and bags of fruit inside. The man driving the truck was very poor and had bought the fruit for his eleven children for Christmas. He stopped at a "friend's" house (so my granddad says), and the friend was not his wife. While the man was inside, my granddaddy and his friend ate every piece of fruit in the back of that truck and took off.

He thought that story was hilarious. "He shouldn't have been messin' around on his wife!" he always said.

We saw him one last time in the casket before they closed the top and brought him to the burial site. A beautiful American flag was draped over the top and the U. S. Air Force medallion was on the side. The honor guards marched out, folded the flag into a perfect triangle, and stood at attention during the playing of Taps. After the last note, the guard turned toward my grandmother, presented her with the flag, and saluted her in honor of her husband and all that he had done for our country.

"This body is not James," said the preacher afterwards. "This is simply the body that James lived in while he was here. James is in our hearts, he's in our souls, he's in our memory. Every time you remember him, he lives on."

Granddaddy, you were one amazing person, and Heaven is lucky to have you. 

But maybe you should try not to laugh so much when you're telling God that story about stealing the fruit, okay?

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Holy Shit, Please Don't Fall Down Those Stairs.

This is a picture heavy post! You've been warned...

The day of the wedding itself was actually a lot less stressful than I anticipated. The night before, I slept at my mom's house and had a slumber party with my sister. We ate a shitload of chocolate, watched Ever After (and quoted every line), and fell asleep pretty early. The next morning when I woke up, the nerves still hadn't quite kicked in yet.

I got my nails did with my bridesmaids and then my best friend and I went to get our hurr did.

After getting our hair styled and makeup done, Katelynn started the drive to my mom's house to drop me off. Five minutes away, she turned down the music and said, "I could never have picked anyone better for you. I know Andy is your soul mate, and I'm so, so happy for you, best friend." We shared I love you's as we pulled into my driveway.

Cry count: 1

When I made it to my mom's house, it was time to put the dress on and head to the First Look. The First Look is when the bride and groom meet up before the wedding, take a few pictures, and then go their separate ways until the ceremony. We decided to do it because I didn't want to be a nervous wreck walking down the aisle, plus it provided way better picture opportunities than just taking some at the church.

After a mix-up of locations, we finally got to the spot. My photographer (JennFar Photography) came to my mom's car and told me she was going to go to Andy, have him turn in the opposite direction, and motion me to start walking their way.

I was so fucking nervous, y'all. It was like going on a first date all over again. My hands were sweaty, and I was trying to keep my face from looking weird, and I felt like my heels were clacking super loud, and I was worried that Andy wouldn't think I was OMG SO MUCH PRETTY HAPPENING, and eeeeeeek!

But then I made it to him.

And I wasn't scared at all anymore.

I forgot the photographer was there, forgot my mom was parked down the road, forgot we were standing mere yards away from the only gay club in town. It was just me and him, giggling and looking at each other and feeling like grown ups. "Are you nervous?" I asked him. "Kind of... are you?" "Not really, anymore." Feeling like a grown up and a nervous pre-teen all at the same time is such a weird feeling. "I love you, baby. But I have to be honest," I started, "I have sweat dripping down my leg right now, and it's grossing me out. Can we head to the church?"

We took one last picture, with a Zoolander theme. "Blue steel, baby!" I shouted.

We kissed one last time and headed to the church.

I had to sit at the church for two fucking hours before the wedding. UGH IT WAS FOREVER AND EVER AMEN. I watched my bridesmaids get ready, had my hurr fixed again, ate some cheese, smoked a cigarette, listened to music, HOLY SHIT, IT STILL ISN'T TIME?

Twenty minutes before the ceremony, my sisters said they had a surprise for me. They gave me a scrapbook, and I started flipping through.

The pages were filled with pictures of us as kids. My oldest sister reading to me when I was a baby, my other sister holding me and smiling proudly. Mixed in were notes of how happy they are for me, how much they love me, how they couldn't have asked for a better brother-in-law. The last page held a picture of us at my bachelorette party, all grown up. Buying cars, moving out, getting married. But wasn't it just yesterday that we were having sleepovers in my sister's room, talking about boys and quoting YouTube videos like it was our job?

Cry count: 2

Right before the wedding started, I felt the nerves kicking in. Everyone kept asking me if I was nervous yet, and I could only think YES, YES, OF COURSE I'M NERVOUS.

We all lined up to walk down the aisle. "I love you, best friend," Katelynn mouthed before she turned and prepared to step through the doors.

My oldest sister started to walk down the aisle first to an instrumental version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

And then the music cut out.

She stood there awkwardly for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. She started walking back up the aisle backwards, and then the music started again. She hesitated with a "fucking seriously?" look before she resumed walking. The other girls followed behind her. The music was a little off, but I was too busy thinking about how embarrassing it would be if I fell down the stairs to realize it.

My dad and I stepped up to the doors after the flower girls had made it all the way down the aisle. We had a quick conversation about when we were supposed to start walking. "Now?" "I don't think so..." "What about now?" "I'm not sure..." "Is it time yet?" "Will they tell us?" "Should we know this already?" "Meh, fuck it, let's get this shit on the road."

We started walking, and my main concern was OMG DO NOT FALL DOWN THESE FUCKING STAIRS, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY AND GOOD. Longest. Walk. Of my life, y'all.

I made it to the end of the aisle and smiled at Andy. He was sniffling already.

My dad did a reading. The officiant read our vows. Andy apologized halfway through for sniffling still. We exchanged rings and lit a unity candle. Andy said I almost broke his hand from squeezing so hard. It was over so quickly that I hardly even had time to notice that I was, you know, GETTING MARRIED.

And then we were officially husband and wife.

We signed some official documents, took some official pictures, and exhaled.

Introducing.......... Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Bee!

And then we headed to the reception.....

Which will be told at a later time. 

All pictures were taken by my very sweet, very awesome photographer, Jenn. Her Facebook page is here.

Monday, October 31, 2011

How R. L. Stine Became My Boyfriend... Practically.

Remember that time R. L. Stine tweeted me and called me crazypants? Even though he's the one who writes creepy books about creepy kids with questionable lines such as,

"'I've blown much bigger than that,' Lindy said with a superior sneer."


Even so, R. L. Stine is officially my favorite celebrity of ever. We had an awesome giveaway going on over at Childhood Trauma, my second home where we snark on books from our childhood. Goosebumps is always a favorite, because they're just so easy. Since it's Halloween, we decided to have a theme week and review all three Night of the Living Dummy books and have a Halloween themed giveaway.

After putting all of the entries in list formation, Lorraine tweeted R. L. and asked him to help us choose a winner by picking a number 1 - 20. Within seconds, he responded "16".

R. L. STINE IS SO IN LOVE WITH US, Y'ALL. He's practically a spokesperson for how fucking awesome Childhood Trauma is. We'll be rich in no time!

After thanking him via Twitter for making this the best Halloween ever, he said,

And by everyone there, I'm pretty sure he means all of us. So R. L. Stine just wished us all a Happy Halloween. You're welcome, bitches. Now go read all the Night of the Living Dummy reviews over at Childhood Trauma and eat a shitload of candy!

Monday, October 24, 2011

Game. On.

When Andy's dad came into town for the wedding, he brought a ridiculous number of presents. He left before we woke up from our wedding night coma and left two packages on our front porch, one labeled "Andy's statue" and the other labeled "Emily's statue".

We ran in the house to grab our suitcases for the honeymoon (from hell) and only had a moment to open the package and see what exactly Andy's statue was. After opening it, we found an old Asian man statue.

"Is this something your dad gave you when you were a kid?" I asked, obviously confused. "I've never seen that statue before in my life," Andy said, equally confused. What the fuck?

We left Emily's package on the couch and reminded ourselves to ask her later what the hell those statues were all about. When we returned home from our honeymoon and had caught up on enough sleep to keep us from being psycho devil people any longer, I remembered to ask Emily if she had opened her package.

"Uh, yeah, what the fuck are those statues and why did my dad give them to us?"

The only ideas we could come up with were either a) their memory really sucks or, the more likely b) their dad was cleaning out his house and wanted to get rid of a bunch of old shit without going to the dumpster. Touche, old man.

Since we didn't have a clue what to do with these Asian people statues, Andy and I decided to make a little game of it. When the SSSS was over at our house last Sunday, we set our plan into action. Emily made a very loud announcement that she would be going in the bathroom to poop, and that was our cue. The moment the bathroom door closed, Andy made a run for her keys to unlock her car. I grabbed the statues and darted out to her backseat. The dome light on the inside didn't come on, and I couldn't figure out how to get the back door unlocked in the dark. I started motioning wildly for someone to come help me, and the next thing I knew, there were four of us frantically trying to get the door open and buckle the two statues in the back seat of her car. (Safety first, y'all!)

When we finally got them safely bucked in, we slammed the door and ran to sit on the porch like OH HAI, NOTHING HAPPENING HERE INVOLVING TWO ASIAN PEOPLE IN THE BACK OF YOUR CAR, WHAT?

Emily was the first to leave for the night. She got in her car and drove off, without ever checking her back seat, which doesn't make sense to me at all, because I ALWAYS check my back seat at night before driving off, so I don't end up being the main character of a serial killer story, thank you very much.

Thirty minutes later, I got a text.

"Game. On."

And now, my friends, these two pointless Asian statues will provide endless entertainment in the form of The Game.

The statues must always stay together. If you get caught trying to move the statues, you lose. If you pawn the statues on someone else successfully, you win. Anything goes.

Aaaaand Emily has a key to my house, so I'm a little terrified of how this game could end up going.

Attention SSSS:

Fucking, game ON, bitches.


In case y'all hadn't heard, Halloween is right around the corner! And you know Childhood Trauma couldn't go through the scariest holiday of the year without doing something special, right? For the next week, we'll be covering all of the Night of the Living Dummy books from Goosebumps. (You know, the ones with Slappy the ventriloquist's doll?)

Not only are we having a special Slappy week (insert masturbation joke here), we're also having a giveaway! Our very first giveaway! And this is legit shit, y'all. As our Childhood Trauma Facebook page says, "If you like the 90's, wearing clothes and eating cookies, this giveaway is for you! If you don't like these things, I don't think we can be friends." Word.

Check out the first Night of the Living Dummy post and giveaway info hiz-ere.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!

An hour away from home, the lights on the car went out. It was 4:00 in the morning, and nobody was on the road. The car just died right there on the interstate like a little bitch. Andy tried to figure out what was wrong with it, but considering we were at least a few miles from a gas station, there wasn't much we could do.

Like I said before, we were on 4 hours of sleep in 36 hours. It was 4:00 AM, and we had been in travel mode since 11:00 AM the day before. We were in pretty awful moods. I wanted to be home to see my puppies and kitty. We had just been hating life two hours before. And that's when I burst into tears.

While Andy looked in the engine to see if he could figure anything out, I sat in the car and bawled my fucking eyes out. Like, serious babyface sobs, y'all. "This is the worst honeymoon everrrrrrr wahhhhhhhh" was basically all Andy could hear (which might explain why he stayed out of the car for a while). I just wanted to go home and go to sleep.

I called my amazing parents, and they got to experience the joy of being woken up at 4:00 AM to their daughter sobbing into the phone. "Your dad is on his way," my mom said before trying to make me feel better, which totally wasn't working.

My sister called a few minutes later and also tried to make me feel better. "I saw your pictures on Facebook, and it looked like you had fun!" "It was awful! I hate everything! And life! And baby Jesus! And also I'm bleeding from the vagina and I can't even change my tampon and I hate everything, including fluffy baby animals and ice cream and happiness! Wahhhhhhhhh!"

My amazing dad finally made it out to pick us up, and he found a grumpy faced daughter and a son-in-law who was trying his best to be in good spirits. We jumped our car and drove it less than a mile when it died again. Oh, totally awesome, so it's not the battery which would have been a nice, easy fix. OF FUCKING COURSE. We charged it again, just long enough to get it to a ghetto gas station, so we could leave it there and come back for it the next day. Then we headed home, and my poor dad had to go to work all day after waking up before the crack of dawn to save us. Have I mentioned my dad is amazing?

We got all of our belongings out of my dad's truck, thanked him a million times, and went inside the house to take a three hour nap. We woke up, groggy as hell, but happy to be home. I shotgunned one coffee and inserted another directly into my veins so we could take care of all the shit we had to take care of that day. It was Friday, and we both had to be back at work on Monday, so all of the legal crap had to be done immediately.

Right after depositing a paycheck into our sad, sad excuse for a bank account, we headed to the courthouse to get a copy of our recorded marriage license.

And that's where our second shitstorm began.

"It turns out that the second copy of the marriage license wasn't signed by all the right people, so we had to mail it back to you and can't give you a recorded copy until it's signed."

"So, technically, we aren't married yet?"

"Technically, you aren't married yet."


Turns out, our chaplain didn't look at the documents before throwing them in an envelope and mailing them in to the courthouse. So, you know, the one thing she was supposed to do didn't get done. -_-

I walked out of the courthouse and started angry crying almost immediately. "Just ONE THING. Can just one fucking thing go right for us? Is God just pissed because we got married in a Unitarian church by a lesbian woman? I'M SORRY, GOD, SHE SEEMED LIKE A VERY NICE CHRISTIAN WOMAN, MY BAD, DUDE."

I started calling everyone I could, and whadyaknow, not one damn person was answering their phones. My anger was so strong, that I'm pretty sure when they looked down at their phones as I was calling, a picture of Satan showed up, laughing maniacally, until the phone just burst into flames and collected into a tiny pile of demon ash in their hands.

According to the very sweet women at the courthouse, we had to go back home to get the unsigned copy they mailed to our house, go thirty minutes away to my best friend's work to get it signed, and drive back to the courthouse again to get it recorded, because, you know, Baby Jesus hates us and all.

But, somehow, we managed to get it all done. We got our marriage license, changed my driver's license, merged our bank accounts, and even had time for a Starbucks drink before going home and crashing the fuck out. We even apologized to Jesus for yelling at him. I'm pretty sure we did a fist pound explosion, and we were all good.

The next day, we picked up my car, took it to the repair shop, and were told that it just needed a new battery. As annoying as that is (because we didn't actually have to get it towed), we were happy because a new battery costs a fuck of a lot less than a new alternator (whatever the hell that is). It seemed like things were finally going right for us!


Be real. Haven't you learned anything from this story??

Our car was fixed and driving and happy as can be. We had apologized to God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, just to cover our bases. Monday morning, Andy headed to work and..... you guessed it! The motherfucking fucker of a car broke down, OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND ALL THAT IS HOLY AND JESUS, YOU FUCKING OWE ME ONE, DUDE.

I retract all of my apologies.

Andy said, "I want to fucking sell this piece of shit fucking car!" and that's all it took for me to SKKKRRRTTTTT into a parking space at the Dodge dealership within minutes. Done, son.

Two days later, I was signing a bunch of terrifying looking papers as Mrs. Sara Bee, and what the fuck, I just bought a car??

Her name is Pearl, and she's lovely.
Did I mention she has a motherfucking refrigerator in the glovebox for all of your frosty beverages?

Since all of this bullshit has been taken care of, things have been going wonderfully. Besides being exhausted and behind on all of my bills, of course.

I like to think of the week after our wedding as the first big test in our marriage. If this had happened last year or possibly even 6 months ago, it's very likely that Andy and I would have blamed each other, gotten into a fight, and not spoken for a few days. But through everything - the car breaking down, the obnoxious people on airplanes, the lack of sleep - we didn't fight at all. We yelled at the entire fucking world together, and then we figured out how to solve our problems together. We laughed about the things that couldn't be fixed, because seriously - What else can you do but laugh when you're getting molested fifteen times at an airport?

Some girls want a guy who is a certain height. Some girls want a guy with a certain color hair, or a certain taste in music. But the only thing I've ever wanted was a guy who could make me laugh. Because when you're going through hell and you're turning into Satan and destroying people's phones, when you're scared of the look on your face that you can't see and seriously contemplating throwing yourself out of an airplane window thousands of millions in the air, a 7 foot tall guy isn't going to make you feel any better. But a guy who can point out a man in the airport who looks disturbingly like a vampire and follows people around and literally glitters in the sun? The kind of guy who can make me go immediately from crying to laughing and trying to take a picture of said glittery vampire on the down low? That's the kind of guy I want by my side for the rest of my life.

Plus he's pretty awesome in bed.

Ahem. Glittery vampire. Twilight was totally for reals, y'all.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Airplane! Can Someone Please Throw Me Out of One?

I got married on October 8, and it was possibly the most perfect night of my life. Everything was exactly what I'd hoped, everyone in attendance had a good time, and I physically could not stop myself from smiling the entire night.

The honeymoon began.

Now, I had a lovely time on my honeymoon, don't get me wrong. But holy shit, if the good Lord wasn't punishing us for some unknown sin, I just have the worst luck in the fucking universe.

We decided a few months ago that we would be super smart and super thrifty by flying out of Dallas instead of Shreveport, because it's way, way cheaper. So Sunday afternoon, we started the drive to Dallas in preparation for our 10:30 PM flight. After getting lost once or twice along the way, we made it to the airport where we again got lost once or twice trying to find the poor people parking. Apparently, there aren't signs up that say PO' PEOPLE THIS WAY which makes things a bit tricky. We had planned on parking in the $8 a day parking, but OH AWESOME, WE PARKED IN $19 A DAY PARKING COOL, NO BIG. Fuck you, Dallas/Ft. Worth Airport.

Once we got inside, we started going through security. I was sent through that body scanner thing, so probably there's a fat, hairy man jerking it to my skeleton right now. Yum. Right after I walked through, the woman was all, "Um, do you have anything in your pockets?" "Nope." "Oh, um, well, I'm going to have to send you through one more time."

I walked through again, and she still had a very uncomfortable look on her face. "I'm going to have to ask you a personal question. Do you have any..... piercings..... in personal areas?"

The fuck??

I turned around to look at the screen and saw a body scan with a red ALERT box right over my freaking vagina. Seriously, box? Why you gotta do me like that?

"Um, no, no piercings or anything," I told her, while my face turned super red. "Are you wearing any panties that may have metal on them?" "Are you really asking me about my panties right now?"

Apparently, I'm the strangest girl on the planet for not always remembering what panties I have on at any given time. She said she would have to pat me down and asked if I would like to go in a more private room. Bowchicawowow. Except not, because this woman is not exactly my first choice to get a pat down from.

Her request for the private room (rawr) made me especially uncomfortable because uh, wtf are you going to do to me that would make me want a private room? Turns out, she was just going to molest me quickly and send me on my way, so awesome.

Once she finished molesting my life, we realized that stupidly, we didn't check the bag with all of our toiletries in it. So even though we could have fit it in the big bag we had previously checked, we didn't think about the fact that you can't bring all that shampoo, conditioner, etc. on a plane. You know, in case I made a Panteen Pro-V bomb or some shit like that. So we had to go back to the front gate to check the bag, go back through the body scanner for another nudey skeleton picture for creepy Joe in the back, and I got to be molested all over again by the odd looking TSA agent. Awesome.

After making fun of a methhead who didn't know how to get through the glass to sit down and several men wearing suit jackets with jeans (Andy votes no, I vote yes, it's totes okay), we finally boarded the plane to Vegas.

I'm not a great flyer on account of hating heights more than anything ever, so I was already in a notsogreat mood when the plane took off. And then the jackass in front of me reclined his seat so I got to stare at the top of his head for 2 and a half lovely hours. I almost asked him if he would just rather lay across Andy and me because then, at least, I might get to stretch my fucking legs out. I passive aggressively handled the situation by opening my soda next to his ear, kicking the back of his seat every time I moved, and making gagging noises as often as possible. Bitch didn't move an inch. I think we were in a passive aggressive war at that point, and HEY BUDDY, I'M MARRIED NOW, I WIN EVERY TIME. I'm like a fucking professional passive aggressiver now, that's just how it works, 'kay?

When we finally got off the plane and sucked two cigarettes down at once, it was 2 AM our time, and I was ready to get the fuck in a bed.

We had a lot of fun times and a few cranky times on the honeymoon itself, which I'll get to later, but today is about traveling experiences, so BE PATIENT, JEEZ.

We noticed the day before we had to get on a plane to come home that our flight left at 7:30 PM but our hotel check out time was 11 AM. Awesome.

We realized we would be spending seven fun filled hours at the airport, which did not exactly start our day off well. When we got to the airport Thursday morning, we hated the entire fucking world. Every single person on the planet. Yes, even you. We fucking hated you. We were complaining about life in general, douchebags who use the only two plugs in the terminal to plug in their laptop and cell phone, as if you can't charge your goddamn cell phone IN YOUR FUCKING LAPTOP UGH I HATE YOU, and people who sat directly behind us and talked as if we had all paid three hundred freaking dollars to listen to their life stories. If Edward fucking Cullen had been there to read my mind, all he would have heard was, "IHATEYOU IHATEYOU IHATEYOU SHUTTHEFUCKUP SHUTTHEFUCKUP UGH I FUCKING HATE YOU."

I figured I could take a nap in the terminal, except for the fact that a million people decided that they were going to win their retirement on the goddamn slot machines right next to us. SHUT. UP. Not to mention the airport was kept at a breezy 10 degrees. Awesome.

We made our way to an empty terminal so we could sleep somewhere quiet and warm. I found the one spot of sun in the whole damn airport and curled up on the floor like a fucking cat. After laying there for ten minutes, a man walked up, and I swear to God, started playing motherfucking paddy cake with himself. Slapping his knees, high fiving himself, tap dancing with his hands, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, SIR?

Right before boarding the plane, we got a super fun announcement. Our flight had been chosen for a special extra security measure check! Mother. Fucking. Awesome.

These security checks were chosen completely at random. And by 'completely at random', I mean 'not even a little random, not even close to random, not even at all'. Because I'm pretty sure that when both my husband and I, plus the couple in front of us all get chosen to be patted down and extra searched, that's not exactly random, but hey, what do I know, I don't molest people for a living.

I'm thinking we were 'randomly selected' because of the death rays I was sending to the TSA agents. Bitches, I don't need a bomb, I WILL KILL YOU WITH MY EYES. After that pat down, I really hope I'm not pregnant.

We boarded the plane and within three seconds, the loudest woman in the world was seated behind me. And not only was she the loudest person in the world, but she was also a Dallas socialite. AWESOME! AWESOME! AWESOME!

"Oh, I always go to the club on the weekends. Our country club is just lovely and perfect. None of those poor people looking us in the eye, ew."

"My husband was out of work for two whole years, so we could only afford to send our daughter to three camps that summer! Poor girl felt so unloved."

"I use fifty dollar bills as tampons sometimes, just because I can!"

If you've ever seen the movie Airplane!, just picture the scenes where all of the passengers next to Ted Striker are committing suicide to get away from his constantly moving mouth, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. Andy and I were pantomiming shooting ourselves in the head, hanging ourselves with a rope, drinking straight gasoline, lighting ourselves on fire, and trying to throw ourselves out of the tiny airplane window. Anything to get away from this awful, awful human being.

When we made it off the airplane, it was after midnight and it looked like the other passengers thought that I was going to hulk out at any moment. They kept their distance and kept looking at each other with SAVEME eyes when I walked past. When we picked up the luggage my mother-in-law let us borrow, it was broken because God obviously wanted me to throw myself off of a building at the end of my honeymoon.

I couldn't see the look on my face, but even I was terrified by me. At one point, Andy and I were walking upstairs to get a shuttle and had to go through a one person door. A woman cut me off by throwing her stupid fugly ass in the doorway without saying excuse me or apologizing and I finally let out a "Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!" at her before launching into the most cuss-filled rant I think I've ever made.

"I fucking hate people! Fuck people! Fuck big cities and their stupid goddamn city-ness and the people in them and fuck everyone! I hate life! I want to be in a small ass town where people say fucking EXCUSE ME when they cut you off! I hate buildings and cabs and homeless people and those stupid goddamn pigeons who look like homeless people. Fuck those fucking pigeons."

After breathing into a bag for a few minutes, we made it out to our car where I literally ran to hug it and seriously considered making out with it, too. I wasn't looking forward to the three hour drive home, but I was so, so happy about not having to share space any more with people I wanted to stab in the face.

For the first thirty minutes of the drive home, Andy and I shouted at everything. We yelled at Circle Ks, buildings we didn't recognize, and confusing highways. We did not, however, yell at McDonalds, who has totally always been there for us in times of need. What up, McD. *chest pound*

For the next hour and a half, we started laughing about how insane we are when we're on four hours of sleep in 36 hours and cranky as hell. We realized that these were going to be pretty good stories to tell one day, and all was well. We even had the most delicious hamburger ever from Carl's Jr's which we don't have in Shreveport. It was a very happy ride home.



(A lot more shit happened, so I'll post the other half later this week!)

Friday, September 30, 2011

Holy Shit, I Am Going to Be So Drunk.

In T-minus seven hours, I will be on my way to bachelorette party goodness in New Orleans. Surprisingly, I've never been, even though I'm only six hours away. Now I just have to finish this bullshit workday and try not to squeal every three seconds at how exciting this month is going to be:

1. Bachelorette Party in New Orleans (and we're totally going to ride those big fan boat things!)
3. Honeymoon in Las Vegas
4. Katt Freaking Williams is coming to town, and I will be there, even if I have to prostitute myself out to get a ticket.
5. Halloween! The best holiday ever!

October is where it's at, yo. I'm thinking November is going to be like the cracked out whore missing a few teeth compared to the high class escort value of October. I'll be calling October while I'm still in bed with November, begging it to come..... back. (heh)

I've been waking up nervous/excited every day for the past week with butterflies throwing a goddamn house party in my stomach. I think there's been fist pumping and jungle juice and lots of really awkward threesomes going on in there. On the way outside to my car yesterday, my stomach was so knotted up that I threw up. I had one second of OH FUCK PREGNANT? and then Whew, nope, just kidding, uterus, we're good! and then me and my uterus high fived about being baby free and went on with our days. I would draw you a picture of me and my uterus high fiving, but that's a lot of effort.

At the moment, I have about twenty thousand mosquito bites on me because I took my bridal pictures in a mosquito nest. Or I might as well have. They pretty much had a fucking buffet on my arms and back the whole time I was taking pictures, and if it were the Sizzler, several of those motherfuckers would have been kicked out for eating all the goddamn food.

We also went in to a Halloween store and took pictures with Halloween costumes over my wedding dress, because it's impossible for me to take anything seriously. When people asked if I was getting married, the most fun response was, "Nope, just another night out on the town!" Some kids stared at me like I was a freak, and I wanted to punch them in their mouths because YOU'RE DRESSED LIKE FUCKING GUMBI, YOU LITTLE SHIT, STOP JUDGING.

Speaking of costumes, the day of my wedding is World Zombie Day. Yep, you heard that right. We picked the most romantic day of the year to get married, because it's fate. On World Zombie Day, in downtown Shreveport, there's a Zombie walk/food drive, in which tons of people bring canned food to donate and dress up like zombies. Then they all walk down the street all creepy like, and it's basically the most awesome thing to ever happen. They even have a female roller derby team in charge of skating around the zombies and making sure they don't eat any random passerby.

The most exciting part about all of this? Andy and I are going to take pictures in our wedding attire with the zombies. WEDDING DRESS. TUX. ZOMBIES. OH FUCKING MY.

I was also offered a chance to review an electronic cigarette. I normally just delete all emails that ask me to review something, because I don't really see the point in reviewing bath soaps that no one gives a shit about, but I am awfully curious about these e-cigarettes. Plus me, Andy, my sister, and my best friend all decided that we want to quit smoking after the wedding, and why not try to use these and see if they help any? Plus I can totally smoke them in a restaurant and see how many people yell at me before they realize it's not real. Yay awkward moments for others!

They said I could do a giveaway for one, too, and I figured, uh, sure, why the fuck not, on account of it being free and my mom telling me never to turn down free things, especially if it's free candy from a stranger in an unmarked white van. So I really hope that some of you are interested in trying this stuff, otherwise I'm going to have to give it to a homeless person, and that kind of takes all the fun out of begging for smokes, don't you think?

So if you're going to be in New Orleans this weekend and want to see me make a fool out of myself because of the drunkness or you're curious about these electronic cigarettes, or you want to discuss how OHMYGOD sexy Jon Hamm from Mad Men is, email me at and we'll be besties.

In conclusion, I suck at ending paragraphs.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Karaoke Ring of Death: Covers/Rip-Offs

It's that time of the month again everyone. No, not the time when I cry a lot and watch Lifetime movies and make Andy look at pictures of adorable Asian babies on the internet. It's Karaoke Ring of Death time!

The theme for this month was thought up by Alexandra. This month is covers/rip-offs! I originally wanted to do this idea so I could sing Fergilicious, but luckily I was able to accomplish that last month. Drunkenly. I was going to make a video this month, but as usual, I was lame and didn't get to it.

I'm going to blame this month's lameage on the fact that I adopted a kitten last week, and I'm absolutely fucking terrified of her. I've never had a cat before, so I'm learning all sorts of new things, like the fact that kittens are fucking insane, and they will eat your face if you stop petting them. I seriously spent two hours the other night petting the kitten because I was afraid she was going to attack me if I stopped. It's like my cat is raping my mind. I start to hate her a little sometimes, but then she does something super adorable like asking if she can haz cheezeburger, and then I'm fucked and in love with her all over again. Abuse is a dirty cycle, y'all.

Andy & PoCat (she probably attacked me right after this photo was taken)

My other excuse is that I HAVE A WEDDING IN TWO AND A HALF MONTHS AND I'M LOSING MY SHIT. I am so not that person who gets all stressed about teeny tiny details, but there's still a lot of shit to do, and every time I show Andy something like these awesome zombie cake toppers I found, he's just like, "Sure, whatever you want, baby," and I'm all, "PICK SOMETHING SO I DON'T HAVE TO OR I WILL THROAT PUNCH YOU RIGHT NOW." Because I'm a woman, and that's how we react to things like this. On a fun note, I took engagement pictures last weekend. After my photographer person is finished editing the rest, I'll write a post about it and let you guys see some more because I'm conceited like that. (Except that one picture where it looks like I have a giant person arm and Andy has tiny hands like the guy in that BK commercial because my arms are the most giant things in the freaking world, and it ain't muscle, y'all.)

It's a cheesefest up in hurr.

Now on to the show!

This month, I have the privelege of hosting a girlcrush of mine. She's gorgeous, and she's funny, and she's humble, AND she played an insane Charlotte in a Charlotte's Web theater remake, in which Charlotte killed a whole shitload of people and carried a pig head around that talked to her. And it's a comedy! You should definitely go to her blog now at Smile Big and Pretty, because you'll probably be just like me and love her and email her and print out her pictures to hang on your wall. Wait, what?

Without further ado......

More Karaoke goodness:
David with TV on the Radio
Jess with Poker Face
Alexandra with Knockin' on Heaven's Door
Shannon with Angel
Jes with Do You Wanna Touch Me
Tabs with It's a Beautiful Day
Kanriah with Hurt
Nicole with Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

This Post Confirms That I Swear. A Lot.

I'm going to Oklahoma this weekend, which means my house is a mess and I have a shit ton of things to do, and I have a karaoke video to record (theme is covers/rip-offs), and I've been working on all sorts of stuff on Childhood Trauma, and ZOMG have y'all read The Hunger Games, because my life was officially turned off for three days in order to finish that series. And also, the person they hired to play the hawt boy is, like, ten years old, and I feel like a creepy old woman for lusting after him. Thanks a fucking lot, production company that I don't feel like googling right now.

In bloggy news, I have been busy contrary to what my sad, pathetic little Sara Swears A Lot looks like. Childhood Trauma, the site in which we roast books from our childhood, has a Facebook page. The Karaoke Ring of Death, the monthly karaoke ring in which we make fools of oursevles singing, also has a Facebook page. There's a new post up at Childhood Trauma about a Sweet Valley High book that made me want to ride Todd's junk, ifyaknowwhatimsayin.

This Friday, I will be leaving lovely Lousyana and heading to Oklahoma, the place of.... flatness. Much like my chest. ZING! OH NO SHE DIDN'T. Andy will be coming along, and Andy's sister, and possibly my best friend. We're going to make sosososo many vlogs while we're gone, because I say so. If you have any ideas for what I should be vlogging about in Oklahoma, let me know!

There was a roach in my house last night. It looked a little something like this:

I'm working off of memory here, so I might be off on the number of claws.
 Andy and I were just trying to lay low, eat some deliciously delicious cheeseburgers, and watch some fucking Family Feud, and then? THIS MOTHERFUCKER.

Velociroach was running like a bandit across the wall in my living room, and I'm pretty sure I spotted him first, as I have a Velociroach Detector in my brain at all times. (It's hereditary.) The moment I saw it, I slapped Andy because I was in a panic and that's what happens when I see roaches. I said something like, "Oh my goodness, there's a roach on that wall over there, and you must kill it immediately!" except that it came out more like, "OHMYSFLJFLWNVIOEJWLHJFANEOAIJWEFDEATHDEATHDEATH."

Luckily Andy understands my Velociroach language and immediately went to kill it.

He took a flip flop and smashed the shit out of the roach. BUT THE ROACH DIDN'T FUCKING DIE.

The Lazarus of roachdome tried to run behind our entertainment center, but Andy is obviously a trained assassin and was not about to let that happen. He went to smack it again, but this time, the roach knew what was coming. He practically grabbed a hold of the shoe right before it hit him, and he threw Andy off to the side. Practically. Or something.

After Andy wiped the sweat off his forehead, he looked at me very seriously and said, "We're going to need a bigger shoe."

While Andy was doing all of his assassin tricks, I was standing in the kitchen screaming, btdubs.

I went to retrieve the biggest shoe I could find. Luckily Andy has pretty large feet.

Bowchicawowow winkywinkywink awww shit son, that's what I'm saying. (Hey Emily! Hey Andy's mom!)

Andy finally got one good throat punch in, and the roach fell behind the entertainment center, STILL ALIVE. If you're keeping track at home, this roach has now survived three fucking attacks. MonsterVelociroach Bastard.

Andy was all, "Hm. Well, it fell behind the TV, so I guess we'll just wait til it comes out."


I laughed a very snobby laugh and told him that I would not be sleeping in that house, much less stepping foot in that living room, if I didn't see a fucking body. It's either me or the Velociroach, yo.

Because Andy loves blow jobs me, he made it his mission to find the roach and fight to the death. First he used a flashlight to peer under the entertainment center for what felt like A MILLIONTY YEARS, OMG IT OBVIOUSLY ISN'T WORKING, MOVE THE ENTERTAINMENT CENTER GODDAMNIT.

Next, he tried to bring each of our dogs in the room one at a time, so they could find the roach. Penny Lane walked over to the entertainment center, and he made her sniff the bottom of the flip flop that had almost made a connection with the Church Norris Roach. He was all, "That's what it smells like, Penny! Find it!"

If you're thinking, "The fuck?" don't worry, you aren't the only one.

When all three of our dogs decided to play flashlight tag, he gave up on that idea. "Fuck this roach!" he said, getting angrier and angrier. I kept suggesting he move the entertainment center, and he was all, "The entertainment center can't just be pushed to the side, Sara," except he said 'Sara' all snooty like. I was almost crying by this point, and Andy decided to pull out the big guns.

Velociroach was like a whole new breed of animal. But ant killer is a badass motherfucker.
Andy sprayed the shit out of the bottom of our entertainment center, and that stupid Velociroach came crawling out slowly, surrending to our human awesomeness. I was afraid he was just tricking us, and planned on pulling out an M16 or something right when Andy went to destroy him, but luckily he just died.

I made Andy throw the body outside, because dead roaches can mate with live roaches and have awful little velociroachy babies.

Fuck that roach.

Friday, June 17, 2011

R. L. Stine is My New Best Friend

R. L. Stine of Goosebumps fame made my entire fucking life yesterday.

If you want to read the whole story of how R. L. Stine and I became besties, you can find it at Childhood Trauma. <3

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Ain't No Party Like a Douchebag Party Because a Douchebag Party Involves Humping

I reviewed one of my favorite Goosebumps books as a kid, One Day In Horrorland, over at Childhood Trauma. Plus I finally stopped being lazy and made a facebook page for CT here. So go like it and make us feel like we aren't just writing to ourselves! (Not that it would stop us.) Be on the lookout for a guest posting week coming soon!

After we left the house party, we headed to downtown Shreveport to go bar hopping. Going drinking downtown on any given Friday or Saturday night will give you the joy of seeing plenty of super attractive people walking the streets.

Oh hai. We jerk each other off, but we're totally not gay.
Pink polos, baseball caps, and douchey smiles as far as the eye can see! Obviously this was my dream come true. Within three seconds of being in the first bar, I texted Andy, "I think they all called each other and coordinated their outfits beforehand."

They also seemed to coordinate their pick-up lines. I have been very sheltered from the creepy-guys-in-bars scene, thanks to the fact that I was engaged at the ripe old age of 20. But Jesus Effing Christ, if I had a nickel for every time a guy asked me and my friends, "So..... are you from around here?" I would probably be able to afford one Affliction shirt. (That's a lot of nickels, yo.)

As we were being accosted by yet another douchey doucheface, I saw a light of hope across the room. One of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in a bar. The moment it came into my line of vision, I knew I would be able to make it through the night.

Y'all. It was a motherfucking visor.

This may seem like something I shouldn't have been quite so excited about, but let me remind you that I was stuck downtown with an army of douches looking at me like I was Miley Cyrus on her 18th birthday. That visor was my savior for the night. And I absolutely would not rest until I tracked down the man who was wearing it and made fun of him properly.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait long.

VisorDouche probably felt the power of my OH NO HE DIDN'T eyes from across the bar, because less than five minutes later, he was all up in our bidness. He walked up to our group of girls and said (of course), "So, are you guys from around here?"

Me: (Interrupting my friends) Yes, and THAT IS A SWEET ASS VISOR, SIR.
VisorDouche: Really? I was thinking it might be kind of lame to wear downtown.
Me: AHA! Uh, no. Definitely not. That is the most amazing thing I've seen all night. Please wear that for the rest of your life. Actually, you should probably be buried in it.
VD: ...........

I was met with this blank stare from men for the majority of the night, which was honestly the only thing that kept me from gauging my eyes out with a spoon or drinking an entire bottle of Tequila to hopefully black out and forget where I was. Almost every guy that hit on us ended up telling my friends, "Wow, this one is a smart ass, huh?" while they pointed their thumb in my direction.

I was making fun of a new person when one of my girlfriends walked up and said, "Hey, everyone wants to go to Phoenix Underground! Let's leave now!"

Me: Phoenix? We're going to...... Phoenix?

"Please, dear God, don't make me go there."
Phoenix Underground is the douchiest of all douchey places I have ever had the misfortune of experiencing in my life. People in the Jersey Shore are like, "Phoenix? Ew, aren't there a lot of douchey guys there?" Jon Gosselin is like, "Oh man, Phoenix is that place with all the douchey guys in polos, right?" Michael Lohan is all, "Oh God, Phoenix? Do normal people actually go there?" THAT'S HOW DOUCHEY IT IS.

I tried to get out of going, but these girls were relentless.

Me: But there's a dress code, and I'm wearing flip flops...
Girlfriend #1: We're a bunch of hot girls! They'll totally let us in.
Me: But I don't have any cash to pay the cover...
Girlfriend #2: I'll get you, girl! Don't worry about it!
Me: But I.... uh, need to.... wash my hair?

Unfortunately, it was a losing battle and within minutes, we were on our way to Phoenix Doucherground. As we got in the elevator to head down to the club, I decided being roofied really wouldn't be that bad. At least I wouldn't have to remember this awful place in the morning?

I went to the bar with one of the girls, because I wasn't quite drunk enough to be humped by a bunch of guys I didn't know on the dance floor. My friend and I were talking/yelling at each other when the Hand Clap started playing through the speakers.

Me: Ohmygod, I love this song! And I totally know the dance moves!

I started dancing a little AT (not on) the bar, while I smoked a cigarette and talked to my friend. Next thing I know, someone walks up behind me and literally starts humping me.

You know when a dog is trying to hump your leg, and it wraps its front two legs around your calf and holds on as tight as it can with super human dog strength and you're kicking and yelling and slamming said dog against a door and absolutely nothing will get it to leave you alone?

Yeah, that's pretty much how I would describe this experience. It became a familiar cycle by the end of the night, and I got so used to it that I forgot it was ever weird in the first place.

  • Stand still at the bar
  • Start shaking your hips slightly at the bar
  • Have a drunk creepy guy in a polo shirt hump you
  • Turn around, shoo him away, stop dancing
  • Repeat five minutes later
I swear to God, y'all, he had to have had super powers because every fucking time I started moving in any way that could ever be construed as dancing, this guy would show up out of fucking nowhere to hump me. Dude could be down the road in a different bar, and he would still hear me say, "Oh I love this song!" just in time to leap behind me and try to grind on my backside. I would be angry about it, but it's almost impressive.

Around the time I wanted to leave, some more douchey guys were hitting on one of my friends and asked us if we wanted to take shots of whatever the hell they had in their VIP section.

Aside: The VIP section was filled with mattresses. That's it. Just mattresses. I knew I wasn't drunk enough to be in this situation because my only thought was, "OH EW. How many germs are on these beds? I'll be over here letting this guy hump me because even that seems more sanitary than this shit, thanks."

I finally started texting Andy to please, dear God, for the love of all that is holy, in baby Jesus' name, please come save me and get me out of here and also, could you shave off my entire top layer of skin when we get home because I'm pretty sure that's the only way I'm going to get the eternal smell of douche off of me.

Right when I started rejoicing because Andy was on his way, one of the douches spilled, nay, POURED his entire goddamn drink in my lap. As the anger that I had been feeling all night started rising to the surface, threatening to burst out of me and devour all these awful, disgusting guys, I said through clenched teeth, "We. Need. To. Go."

I started getting the few remaining girls together and was waiting for a friend to come out of the bathroom when one of the douches who practically shoved shots down my friends' throats came up to me.

Douche: You know.... we did just buy you guys like five drinks, and you're just gonna leave like that?

Ex-squeeze me?
What I should have said: Sir, I am damn fucking good at sex and blow jays for that matter, and I can guarantee you that sex with me is worth a fuck of a lot more than two shots of tequila, thankyouverymuch. Now, go away, and I'll keep praying to Baby Jesus that your penis falls off.

What I said: Whatthefuck?

Luckily, at that moment, Andy let me know he was outside waiting for us, and I was able to exit that hellhole and never look back.

At least until the next Girls Night when I'll be forced to relive it all over again.

Uh, guys? I'll be washing my hair for the next four months.

Monday, June 13, 2011

DoucheBag Central

Recently, I was getting together a list of names and addresses for wedding invitations. As I was emailing all of my friends to get updated information, I realized that I hadn't seen some girlfriends from high school in quite some time. These particular girlfriends are the epitome of fun-loving, party-having, club-hoppin' girls. And in case you couldn't tell from over a year of blog posts..... I'm not exactly a fun-loving, party-having, club-hoppin' kind of girl. I'm more of a sit-on-the-couch, eating-potato-chips, with-no-pants-on kind of girl. So to say I was a little out of my comfort zone Saturday night would be putting it lightly.

We started at Texas Roadhouse, home of throwing peanut shells on the floor. Also home to a delicious frozen margarita. I sipped on my margarita and ate french fries covered in love handles (might as well have been) while I caught up with five girlfriends I hadn't seen in years. The first fifteen minutes of conversation went a little something like this:

Girlfriend #1: Sara, do you remember that time you called me your Mexican Boyfriend at that party and then we called each other that for the rest of the year? LOL
Me: Um... it sounds kind of familiar, but....
Girlfriend #2: Oh man! Hey Sara, remember when you rapped What Would You Do by City High in Mr. Hayden's English class, except you had to skip over that part about being raped and Mr. Hayden got mad at you?
Me: Oh, ha ha, uh.... sure?

What the fuck, y'all? Was I stoned my entire high school career? I have no memory of these stories, and they were about me.

*Aside: I didn't smoke or drink in high school. I was pretty much the most awesome kid ever. You're welcome, Mom.

*Aside Again: This is further evidenced by the fact that when I saw someone downtown later that night who I hadn't seen since ninth grade, his first response was, "I would never have expected to see YOU out here, that's for sure." How else can you answer to that, besides saying, "Yep, I'm just an alcohol-swilling, Bible-burning baby-aborting pillhead now.... who would have thought?" Dick.

After one margarita at the restaurant, we had all planned on heading downtown, AKA DoucheCentral. But one of the girls we were with heard about a house party close by. This house party would be filled to the brim with even  more people I haven't seen since high school. Obviously, this sounded like a shitload of fun. (Note: Not.) But since I'm usually a Champion Couch Potato, I decided to just go along for the ride.

We arrived at this bangin' house party, and it was poppin', y'all. And by poppin', I mean that we pulled in the driveway at the same moment the hosts of this house party pulled into the driveway. Also? They had one bottle of liquor and one case of beer.

Taaka Vodka and Bud Lite.

Enough said, right?

I relived my freshman year of college and took a shot of Taaka, hoping that one shot might make me forget where I was, for fear that I might start weeping at the lameness of it all.

I am entirely too damn old to be at a house party like this.

I am way too fucking old to be shooting Taaka.

I need to get the fuck out of..... WAITAFUCKINGSECOND.

"WHAT. IS. THIS?" I practically yelled at my friend, as I noticed the most amazing thing I'd ever seen on a fridge before. (Besides the flyer for the local eatery Double D Ranch that is currently residing on my fridge at home.)


Y'all. That is a Christmas card. And in case you didn't notice, the fucking dogs have individual portraits on this Christmas card, while the children do not. And look at those portraits! These dogs are obviously used to having their pictures taken. They're probably also used to eating at the table with the rest of the family, cracking open an icy cold beer on Sunday afternoons, and spending all day lounging around in their own private room with an on-staff masseuse and fireplace. The two kids are probably off somewhere, coughing up furballs and smelling like dog piss. This Christmas card alone made the entire house party worth it.

After laughing hysterically at the Christmas card, I turned around and realized just how uncomfortable this house party really was. The guests included us girls and.... the host. The awkward silence loomed over us, while my friend and I made "wtfarewedoinghere" eyes at each other.

"Uh.... I'll be outside smoking."

Smoking may be a dirty, dirty habit, but it really is the best excuse to get yourself away from uncomfortable situations.

While I was outside doing my dirty cancer thing, one of my friends came outside.

Friend #1: I didn't know you smoked!
Me: Um, wow. We really haven't seen each other in a while, huh?
Friend #1: So do you inhale when you smoke?
Me: Is that a real question? I mean, uh, yes.
Friend #1: I've only ever tried a cigarette once....... *hinty eyes*
Me: Oh really? Hm, that's interesting. *ignoring hinty eyes*
Friend #1: Yeah, I think I kind of liked it a little bit maybe. I would probably have to try again to know for sure. *YELLING EYES*
Me: Ahem. Cough. *'please stop yelling at me with your eyes' eyes*
Friend #1: Could I try?

Sigh. Guys, I've become that person.

Stay strong, Steph! These bitches will wrinkle up way faster than you, gurl.

"Everyone else is smoking, you'll look totally cool, boys will like you, INFECT YOUR LUNGS WITH CANCER, BISH."

*Aside: Nobody panic about me turning a friend into a black lung participant. This girl is not going to start smoking all the time, swearsies.

I handed her a cigarette, and she held it away from her and lit the tip of it with the lighter. (*giggle* I'll admit that I found it kind of cute that she had no clue how to light a cigarette.) After showing her what to do (devil's work), she started smoking and actually managed not to cough while doing it. If you've ever seen a new smoker smoke a cigarette, you know how awkward they look doing it. I noticed her glancing at me out of the corner of her eye to follow my movements when I inhaled, ashed, or just stood holding it. (Again, I know it's bad, but it was pretty funny. It felt very much like a high school flashback.)

Moments later, another friend walked outside.

Friend #2: You two look so classy smoking your cigarettes!

Sigh. GUYS. I DID NOT START THIS. Stopjudgingme.

Friend #2: Can I try?
Me: Oh, goddamnit.

Are there any old ladies who need help crossing the street? Turtles flipped upside down who need to be turned over? Seriously, my karma points have to be in the negatives by now.

This friend erupted into a fit of coughs after one tiny drag.

Me: "And that's why smoking is bad for you."

(See? Saving lives here, y'all.)

On our way back inside the house, the two dogs (featured above) were acting like fucking insane beasts. I told the girls that we should try to run inside quickly, so the dogs would stay outside and quit trying to goose everyone. The dogs had both been outside when we arrived to the party, so we figured the host couldn't be too angry with us for trying to avoid their cold noses.

Except that the dogs escaped. And judging from the Christmas card and the framed photographs of these golden retrievers all over the house, someone was going to be pretty upset to return home to no dogs. These people would probably be less upset if they lost their children, for God's sake.

The host quickly ran outside when he discovered the dogs were missing, and that is when we chose to leave and go to a bar. We're classy like that.

To Be Continued... because one post just isn't enough to make fun of the douches I met Saturday night.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Karaoke Ring of Death: High School Style

It's Karaoke Ring of Death time, y'all! We had a short break last month because of me being a busy fun ruiner, and I'm glad to get back to drankin' and sangin' myself into embarrassment. This month was an especially awkward one. I attempted to count the number of awkward moments, but I forgot what came after one zillion billionty. If you want to see my video, you can find it at Alexandra's blog, The Tsaritsa.

This month, I am super stokedexcited to get to have Erin from Post Modern Talk-O on my blog. Her videos always make me laugh, and she looks like a natural in front of a camera. Plus her boobs looked awesome in 20sb's Vlog Day video. I just want to follow her around and laugh at her jokes all day. Maybe we could be sister wives?

Without further ado.... Erin singing "My Own Worst Enemy."

Hey, party people in the place to be. I'm Erin from The Post Modern Talk-o and I'm extra stoked to be on Sara's page this month. I even wore my pajama jeans, commando. I super hope that if you're a regular reader of her you'll make your rounds and check out all the vloggers on this list. The internet has talent, man. Well, we've got webcams at the very least. Check out Kandace from One Red Wall for double sure over on my page with her rendition of Sorry Ms Jackson. You're gunna love it.

Ok, so my entry might have been better as a one hit wonder but I have a zillion memories of me and my friends piled into a hand me down car pushing the one good speaker a full blast listening to this song. The perfect anthem for reckless teenage abandon and bad dancing.

If you haven't barfed in your mouth yet, but really really want to head over to my Video Page for lots and lots of other vlogs. (It's a post modern thing)

You can find the rest of the karaoke singers at the links below:

Kandace with Sorry Mrs. Jackson
Tabs with Sadie Hawkins Dance
Bianca with The Hardest Part of Breaking Up (Is Getting Back Your Stuff)
Jes with Can I Get a Fuck You
Daniella with She Will Be Loved
TJ with Naked
Alexandra with Intergalatic Planetary
Dawana with Bills, Bills, Bills
K. Syrah with She Will Be Loved
David with Song 2
Nicole with Seventy Times 7

Thursday, June 9, 2011

MYAH! It's Vlog Week!

With yesterday being 20sb Vlog Day and tomorrow being Karaoke Ring of Death day, I figured I would go ahead and declare it Vlog Week at SaraSwearsALot.

After getting to Dallas for my birthday in March, my best friend, sister-in-law, and I got really into making the Snookie MYAH noise. Why? Uh, because it's fucking fun as shit to do, that's why. Try it out a few times, and try not to be in the best mood ever. We were a bit drunk when this was recorded, and we thought Emily was trying to take a picture of us, not record our MYAHs over and over and over. Sorry the picture quality kind of sucks. Blame Steve Jobs.

In case you couldn't tell, I'm the one on the left whose laugh sounds suspiciously like Miley Cyrus'.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

20sb Vlog Day is Hiz-ere!

It's 20sb Vlog Day! Which means a whole shitload of people from 20 something bloggers will be posting vlogs today, introducing themselves to the bloggysphere. For the first time ever, I decided to pretend I was a master editor and try to turn my shitfest of a video into something awesome.

That didn't work out so well.

But here's the video anyways. If you make it to the end, there's singing! Into a fake microphone! And hand motions! It's your lucky day, everyone.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

SMAC: Animated Movies

Today I get to host my best bloggity friend on my blog for Shitty Movie Awareness Club! We're pretty much the best couple ever. Even Andy calls our soulmateness a steamy love affair, and it totally is. I imagine that when we finally do meet, there will be a beautiful, running through the airport, jumping into each other's arms kind of moment. Except maybe not the jumping in each other's arms part because I'd really hate to give her a hernia. (Can girls even get hernias?) (When I was little, I thought a hernia meant that a boy's penis had fallen off. Ouch.)

If you've met her, you know who I'm talking about. If you haven't... WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? It's Lorraine, y'all! Enjoy her movie review, because when I read it, I got a serious case of the giggles. And if you'd like to see mine, it's over at Nugs' place. Along with my pants. Rawr!


Hey guys, it’s Lorraine from Late to the Party. After typing that sentence, I almost decided that I should probably have a more original introduction than that, but quickly remembered all of the brain cells I’ll be wasting while watching this movie. After watching Glitter my first round of SMAC, I’m thinking I can’t afford to spend brain cells on things like “thinking” and “originality.”

So. This month’s theme for the Shitty Movie Awareness Club is animated movies. I’m really excited about this for several reasons. Ahem:

1.) I get to post on Sara’s blog! SARA. SARA NIPPLES. In case you didn’t know, she and I are like, best bloggity friends. We text, tweet, chat, email and Facebook each other all the time. We also grope each other, but *shhh*. We plan how we’re going to run away together one day and live by the Unicorn Code. Plus, we work on Childhood Trauma together, and bond over Wakefield Tears, even if sometimes she defends Jessica over Liz. I still totally forgive her. See? Best. Bloggity. Friends.

b.) I’m basically a cartoon!

cat.) Nicole Sweeney is posting on my blog. If that isn't just a hot sandwich of hot hotness, I don't know what is.


The movie I chose is “Felix the Cat: The Movie.” My sisters and I watched the crap out of this movie. We found this at the seedy video rental store my father took us to basically every weekend. It was right next to the Pussycat Theater and it took me a long time to realize what kind of movies were in there.

Anyhow, and after way, way, way too much introduction, Felix the Cat:

We open the movie with a giant, disembodied cat head floating against a black screen. It’s Felix, yo. He kind of sounds like a less nasally, higher pitched Mickey Mouse. He also would like to tell us about an amazing adventure he’s had! His floating head is moving side to side in awkward, late 80’s animation and the voice isn’t even TRYING to match whatever small movements his mouth is making. Awesome. This is gonna be fun.

So, Felix just got back from the land of Oriana. It’s okay if we haven’t heard of it because they don’t even have an airport. Felix LMAO’s at his own damn joke and I wonder if this is going to happen often. Nobody likes the guy who laughs too hard at his own joke, FELIX. GOSH.

Oriana is in another dimension and the people and creatures there are supes weird, says Felix. More weird than a disembodied cat head who laughs at his own jokes, apparently.

We go to Oriana and there is a blonde chick signing, “Oriana” on a paper. I just mention this detail because as she signs, bells tinkle in the background and the ink is silver and sparkly and OMG I WANT THAT PEN. Sorry. I’m a sucker for office supplies. Also, Oriana is the name of the kingdom AND the princess. A+ for originality.

A little balding man comes into the big, palace-y room we’re in. His name is “Grumper.” Hmmm. I wonder if he’s jovial? Care free? Witty? Oh, fuck, right. He’s Grumpy. A+ for subtlety. At this time, another rotund character busts in, Pearl.

Pearl: Oh no! Oh no! OOOOOH NO! Ah! Worry! Freak out!
Grumpyface: Oh, wow. Bitch be cray cray.
Princess: Oh, nonsense Grumper. I am kind and good to all. I have blonde hair and speak softly. Let her speak.

That may be paraphrased but just a little.

So anyways, Pearl has seen a black duck on a green planet on her extra-terrestrial tarot cards, or something, which obviously means that Oriana’s uncle, the Duke of Zill has gotten through some intergalactic impasse and has returned to their kingdom with an army of robots. Don't you just hate when family shows up unannounced? So inconvenient.

We are shown the robot army and they are flying in formation chanting, “Princess! Princess! Princess!” I kind of am on their side, as of now, just because I’m a big fan of chanting. Chanting! Chanting! Chanting! Plus, you kind of have to admire that kind of focus and drive.

In fact, even though the Princess is JUST hearing about her evil uncle being back in town, most of her people have either fled or surrendered. Worst. Princess. Ever.

Princess: I’m going to escape through a secret passage way! And then I will get help from “the outside.” Also, I have never learned from movies that you should never announce your plans to people.
Pearl: Of course! “The outside.” Just like the prophecy that says we will have a hero from another dimension.
Lorraine: Hey twat waffle! Any other pertinent information you are keeping to yourself? Bitch.
Princess: What will you do Grumper? How will you escape?
Grumpydick: I’ll just stay here. I’m old and it doesn’t matter when old people die.

I would “word” this but Grumpster immediately sits down in triumph, meaning that he’s evil and is totally planning on selling the Princess out. Not cool.

The robots shine colorful lights out of their asses while they search for the escaping Princess. She keeps saying she’s looking for something but I don’t quite catch what. The dimense portal? The immense portal? Whatever. She finds it but before she can turn on the ditense porma, the robots and the evil Uncle Duke catch her.

Now would be a good time to mention that her uncle is like… a robot ox?

As they take the princess away, she cries a single magical tear. It becomes a little magical fairy tear who yells, “help me! Help me!” and is smarter than the actual princess because the tear manages to turn the disport portion on and the TearFairy travels through time or space or something, and finds our hero, Felix the Cat.

Felix grabs his magic bag, is an idiot, stumbles around, and follows the TearFairy. I hate Felix already. Passionately. Then for no reason we’re treated to a musical number as a group of foxes kick dirt onto Felix’s magic bag. UH. OKAY… The TearFairy leads Felix back to Oriana (the kingdom, not the person) and is all, “that’s as far as I go. See you later, sucka.”

Felix ends up underwater. I could explain how, but why would I when all I really want to mention is that the fish in Oriana? HAVE TITS.

Anyfishtits, Felix meets a gun-carrying, single toothed, southern accented man named Pim. He offers to help Felix but he really just wants that darn magic bag! As Pim leads him, Felix manages to get trapped in a man-eating bubble and Pim turns him over to the robot army. Never trust a man with only one tooth.

Pim takes the bag to “Wack Lizardi.” Okay. I’m going to let you guess what sort of animal he resembles and his defining character trait. I’ll give you a few seconds. If you guessed, “intelligent bird,” you are absolutely right!

JAYKAY. He’s a wack lizard. A++ Wack is a lackey to Uncle Duke and he also… runs a circus? You know. On his down time. Pim takes the magic bag to Wack but figures out that the bag ain’t so magical without Felix.

In captivity, Felix watches as the evil circus of Uncle Duke goes on. We’re treated to an evil circus number. A lion plays electric guitar… with his face. Mice/Lizard hybrids tap dance with top hats for about eleventy minutes. The circus crowd makes a lot of generic “crowd” noises but I can’t tell if they are cheering or jeering. I didn’t pay to attend this circus, but I want my money back.

Oh, wait. Here comes Felix to perform. I haven’t mentioned so far how very terribly “punny” this movie is. It kind of explains why my younger self liked it. For instance, Felix falls into his magic bag and as he gets out he yells, “who let the cat out of the bag?” #punny.

“Who is this Duke of Zill? He’s the one who got me into this pickle. Zill. Pickle. GET IT?” #punny

Felix: Hey Lizard, now that I'm done performing, can I stay and watch the Princess dance?
Wack Lizard: As long as you never tell another joke. Ever. Again.
Lorraine: AMEN.

If a dude named “wack” is asking you to stop telling jokes? You should probably stop.

And now comes the single plot point that I actually remember about this movie. Stop judging me. Oh, what? I haven’t told you what the plot point is yet? STOP JUDGING ME IN ADVANCE.

Okay, so the Princess is in this circus too, right? And her amazing talent is… bubble dancing! Seriously. She dances seductively in a bubble for all the circus to see. She’s not naked or anything. She just… shimmies and OMGSTOPJUDGINGMEPLEASE.

I should mention that all of this circus crap is taking place in Zill, not in Oriana (the kingdom, not the person.) I didn’t mention this before because I didn’t know and it took a little caption that said, “meanwhile, in Oriana’s kingdom…” for me to realize. AT LEAST I CAN READ, OKAY?

Sorry. These SMAC entrires always make me very yell-y.

Meanwhile, back in Oriana’s kingdom, everyone is watching her dance in the ‘ole bubble.

Grumpylips: I really don’t see why she’s on every channel. Don’t we have cable up in hurr? Surely the Housewives of Something or Teen Mom 57 is on. Any of that would be better than watching her dance the same way every night.
Uncle Duke: She gets better every night. Let me jerkoff... I MEAN... watch in peace.

People keep making cat/princess hooking up jokes and uh HELLO? Gross, cartoon characters. Stop it.

Felix finds the Princess and she explains what happened: Basically, Uncle Duke was a mad scientist and in trying to build his robot army, he maimed himself and had to build himself that stunning oxrobot body. He was supes jealous of his brother, the then king and wanted all of the secrets to the kingdom, like the secret of the Dimental Poridge. But Oriana will never give them to him. NEVAR. And her daddy banned him to the land beyond the impasse. And then Uncle Duke did evil things and has now captured the princess.

Felix promises that he’ll get the Princess out of the circus and she… presses his oversized head against her boobs. Felix is understandably impressed and the soundtrack croons, “something moooore. More than friends.”


Okay, so the next day Felix and Oriana are performing again. Oriana bubble dances, Felix plays the sax and Uncle Duke says, “magnificent! Magnificent!” and so on. They all end up in bubbles somehow and escape the circus tent.

So now, Pim, Oriana, Felix and some other characters I never mentioned because who cares, amIrite? are a rag-tag team of escapees when hark! Hark! A dragon comes out of nowhere and a horribly dubbed voice over says, “Stella. Stella. I could’ve been somebody.”

I SHIT YOU NOT. The dragon that is now trying to eat our Escapees is quoting Brando. I seriously fucking paused the movie and searched to see if a pop-up was responsible for this line of dialogue, but NO. NO.

Whatever. My head hurts now. After being chased by various things, they make it back to the castle in Oriana (the kingdom, not the girl) (though if she had a castle in her that'd be cool. I mean weird. Totally weird.) and sneak in but Uncle Duke is waiting for them. He wants the secrets of the kingdom and stuff but Oriana is all, “no, bitch.” So Uncle Duke threatens the rest of the Escapees and Oriana is all, “Fiiiiiine. Bitch.”

Oriana summons a magical book of kingdom secrets and Uncle Duke opens it. Ladies and gentleman, the kingdom secrets Oriana has been protecting and that the slim plot of THIS ENTIRE FUCKING MOVIE WAS BASED AROUND.

ARE YOU MOTHER FUCKING KIDDING ME? -- and that was just Uncle Duke’s reaction.

He’s so pissed that he unveils his new super robot, but we only see that super robot for about oh, 1 second, because Felix throws the book of kingdom secrets at it and apparently love and wisdom and shit are just too powerful for a metal robot and he explodes. And naturally every single other robot explodes. And naturally this means Uncle Duke dies.

Or, really, he twinkles into the skies from whence he threatens, “I’ll be back.” Right now, I’m focusing on the fact that Felix is hugging Oriana and he’s basically vag level tall. Insert your own pussycat joke here.

They say goodbye and Felix is sent back through the Dimesh Portion.

God help me. I made it until the end. I still really have this headache, though, on one side of my head. It’s probably the side responsible for logic and hating bestiality.