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If you’re going to give someone a housewarming plant the appropriate thing to do is name it after yourself. You want the recipient to have a constant reminder of your amazing generosity. When the gift is from two people you obviously have to give the plant a celebrity couple name.

The problem is that when you combine Sarah and Susan you get Saran. Not only is it pretty much still my name, but it sounds exactly like the toxic nerve agent Sarin. Actually now that I think about it Sarin is fitting. I have been called a weapon of mass destruction before so may as well stick with the familiar.

Plus the name “the hot blond girls who drink all your wine and boss you around” is way too long and just not as catchy. Sarin it is.

Now all that’s left is hoping the plant lives. And the boy.

Over the weekend I helped my friend Summer launch her new blog. To thank me she called me fat. No really, she did.  Not phat, which I totally am by the way, but fat.

F-A-T!

She didn’t word it exactly the same way. She’s way too nice for that. Instead she offered me training sessions with her personal trainer boyfriend which is exactly the same thing as calling me fat. Or maybe she just wants someone else to suffer as much as she is. Their Friday night dates are held at the gym more often than that. If he weren’t such a nice guy I’d insist she break up with him.

I’m training with Mr. Summer tomorrow. So if you don’t hear from me he’s obviously murdered me with a dumbbell. And no Summer, you can’t inherit my blog. You’ve got a pretty one of your own now.

My friend, Loralee, made the trek from Logan to Salt Lake so I could see her new baby. As I held her baby I sniffed his head and felt my ovaries do cartwheels.

She let me feed him a bottle and give him as many snuggles as I wanted. I haven’t been dating much these days, so I tried to get as much cuddling with a man as possible.

Mid snuggle I noticed a familiar snorting sound.

“Dude, you made a pug!”

“Um…”

“Seriously. Listen to him. He snorts just like Daisy AND his face is just as wrinkly as hers is. You’ve got a human pug!”

In hindsight it may have not been the nicest comparison I could have offered. A simple, “Oh what cute little sounds your baby makes” would have been much nicer. Lor didn’t mind. She’s used to the fact I don’t have a internal filter to shut myself up.

Later I compared him to a potato bug, and then, even later, a horse.

I’m an excellent friend. And well versed in animal sounds.

After spending that much time with a newborn I suddenly pictured myself as a mother. I’d rock the shit out of the playground. I’d be the cool mom that was crazy enough to be fun, but not crazy enough to be committed.

I spent the rest of the day planning my future as a parent.

And then?

I read this.

Yeah. That bitch went and ruined my parental dreams by talking about icky birth details. I’m soooo printing out her post and the next time my family asks when I’m going to settle down and make some freaking babies I’ll hand them her post and scream NEVER! at the top of my lungs.

That’ll shut them up.

To read this week’s “That’s What She Said” column online go here. To download the PDF version go here.

This week I talk about my friendships with Kelli, Summer, and Susan. Of course I used a “Sex and the City” comparison because, well, I wanted to and it’s my damn column.

Would you believe me if I told you I couldn’t write you a worthwhile blog because an especially nasty zit took over my body?

What if I had proof?

This video was taken last Saturday when I went to the Roller Derby with friends. Luckily I didn’t have to purchase a ticket for the zit, or the giant wad of watermelon bubble gum in my mouth. Whew.

Have you watched a movie in a theater with a howler? You know that person that laughs at the most inappropriate times LOUDLY? I’m that person. It sucks but I just can’t help myself.

Yesterday my friend Ryan and I went to see “I Love You, Man.” We’ve seen movies together before but always suspense or dramas, never a comedy.  He had no idea what he was getting into–although, the fact that I laugh hysterically over the stupid “shut your cell phone” promos should have been enough of a warning.

The movie started and I instantly started laughing at the most awkward parts of the film. From the concerned look on his face I think he was worried that I was having a seizure, or was choking on my tongue.

I tried to tone it down. Really I did. I just wasn’t successful. When I try and hold laughter in I feel like my face is going to explode. Face explosions are a LOT more distracting than hyena laughter, or so I keep telling myself.

Ryan didn’t complain, but I have a feeling we are going to start seeing a lot of depressing films from here on out.

I love receiving presents. You show me someone who doesn’t, and I’ll show you a robot. Or a giant liar.

It doesn’t even matter what the gift is, it’s just the fact that someone cares enough about me to give me something. You could hand me a burnt grilled cheese sandwich and as long as it was wrapped in a bow I’d go on and on about how it’s the best present anyone ever gave me. Like I said I’m a sucker for a present.

So when my friend Ryan bought me a present I was ecstatic.

He’s a good friend to worry about my safety and I appreciate it, however, that didn’t stop me from throwing the pepper spray at his head in a heated political argument. I’ll get the hang of this personal safety thing one of these days.

Sunday my friend Aimee and I had SarAimee adventures.

In the old days, before she let a boy move into her house, our adventures included lots and lots of girly stuff.  This adventure, however, included a trip into two snowboarding stores.

It was here I discovered that I’m going to be a lesbian.

Aimee was talking to the clerk about the difference in snowboarding socks when I heard something that changed my life: antibacterial socks.

After questioning the clerk on why anyone would need antibacterial in socks, I found out that people don’t wash their snowboarding gear.  And by people I mean boys.  The flashback images of all the dirty-footed snowboarding guys I’ve made out with in my life caused immediate hives.  I swore off boys right then and there.

On our way home we needed a major infusion of estrogen so we stopped by a coffee shop named Diva.  It helped, but I’m probably going to have to stick to my original plan and make 2009 the year of the lesbian.

Remember the Metallica birthday tickets?  Yeah, the concert rocked… LOUDLY!  Read about it in this week’s “That’s What She Said.”

For my birthday this year I told every single one of my friends I didn’t want to celebrate.  I made idle threats to anyone who wanted to make a big deal of the day, including my mother.  Luckily Summer and RLO didn’t listen to me and insisted we at least have brunch and see a movie.  They both knew I’d end up regretting the birthday hermit plan, and I probably would have.

When Summer surprised me with Metallica tickets I nearly broke down in tears.  Sad but true. HA, did you catch that?  Oh yeah, country girl knows her Metallica songs.  I loved the band when I was younger and knowing that she cared enough to make it possible for me to see them was the highlight of my day.

RLO, too, was in a gift giving mode.  He gave me two presents, both of which he was morally against:

He hates the thought of me collecting Pyrex, which makes no sense whatsoever.  He also detests the fact that I always want things with Splenda rather than sugar, only proving he wants me to live long enough to torture him for years to come. So the fact he put aside his hate and bought me a Pyrex book and my favorite coffee flavoring with Splenda proves he really is a good friend in spite of the fact I’m so horrible to him.

Thanks to everyone who called, emailed, left blog/Twitter comments and sent text messages. I’m genuinely touched over how caring, not just my friends, but complete strangers can be.  I’m a lucky lady, and it sort of makes being older not quite so horrible. Thank you!