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I’ve decided the best thing about the holiday season isn’t the presents, the holiday lights or any of that tender baby Jesus crap; the best thing is manipulation. Something I’m quite fond of, but throw in the Santa factor and it’s better then ever!

While watching my niece and nephew this week I was able to witness the miracle of Santa. Kids will do anything if you involve Santa.

“What’s that? You don’t want to go to Starbucks? Santa just called and said Auntie Sarah HAS to go to Starbucks right this second.” The speed in which the kids ran for their coats was spectacular.

“No, you’re not wearing cowboy boots to school. Why? Because Santa hates cowboy boots.”

“You want chicken nuggets and not the PB& J sandwich I just made? Santa just sent me a text message and said you have to eat the sandwich, or else.”

After two days of this the kids finally asked how I know Santa. Clearly the only thing to was lie. I told them Uncle Ben had gone to the North Pole on his mission. Carter piped up and asked if Ben, or Uncle Mean as he calls him, had baptized Santa. I told them Uncle Ben had indeed baptized Santa. They were in awe.

Later when my brother Matt got home Hannah told him that Uncle Ben had tried to kill Santa, which I guess is pretty accurate. Baptism is a lot like downing, only you just get cake after and not a trip in the ambulance.

Poor kiddo, first the Easter Bunny, now Santa? I’m really hoping the Tooth Fairy lives.

If Ben had a house fire he’d grab two items before running out the door: his baby blanket, and his MC Hammer/Vanilla Ice album. Seriously. As an afterthought, he may go back for Vegan Joe, his roommate. But only after MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice were safe.

Ben let me borrow this cherished CD last night, with the promise I’d return it in exactly one weeks time. I’m going to listen to the wise(?) words of MC Hammer and hope for Christmas gift inspiration. I have a difficult time buying for other people. Attempting to find the perfect gift stresses me out. Ben, however, is easy. Obviously I’ll be buying him a pair of parachute pants.

What is it about this time of year that makes people want to search online for LDS porn? Is that the new trend in Christmas gifts? If so, I missed the memo. In the span of two days I’ve had ten people link to my blog by googling “lds porn.” Last year around this time I had the same problem, so I’m blaming the holidays.

Here are some other gift suggestions for your favorite Mormon this holiday season:

Fabric Scripture Carrier—perhaps something in denim this year? It’s a favorite among someone somewhere, I’m sure.

A New Book of Mormon, complete with single word change–who doesn’t need an updated version?

Or maybe your loved one is political, if so a contribution to the Romney for President fund might be a thoughtful choice.

But if you still have your heart set on something naughty, might I suggest you order the same gift I’m giving my mother this year. I have a feeling she’s really going to love it.

Our Thanksgiving dinner was amazing, even if we did forget a green salad. But as Ben said, “It’s just filler. Why waste stomach room on salad?” The entire day was so much fun, even the parts where I learned stuff from Arlo… like how to make gravy. Ben and I made the mashed potatoes, Mormon style–which means lots and lots of fatty ingredients and a Book of Mormon on the kitchen counter for luck.Unfortunately, AK ended up out of the country on a business trip so he wasn’t able to be there in person, but thanks to Skype video he was able to supervise our activities. He didn’t have a lot of faith in our kitchen skills and made sure we knew where the fire extinguisher was at all times. No, seriously.Mrs. AK, however, didn’t need any supervision. Her turkey was perfect! Can’t wait until next year!

I have so much to be thankful this year…

I’m thankful I have loving and loyal friends who are family to me. Especially Mrs. AK, who despite being British, planned an all-American Thanksgiving feast complete with a child’s place setting for Ben.Speaking of family, even though my parents decided to spend the holiday amongst drug dealers and elderly vacationers, I’m extremely thankful I have both a mom and a dad. I’m also thankful I have such cool brothers, a sister-in-law that I adore, and the most amazing niece and nephew in the entire world.

I could on, but I won’t. There’s cooking to be done. Granted I’ll just be watching, but watch I shall! Obviously I’ll be paying closer attention to our Canadian friend’s ass, than I will any food preparation, but have complete faith he won’t poison me. I think.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!

My family ditched me for Thanksgiving, and left me with the responsibility of finding Ben a suitable place to spend the holiday. My mom took his threat to eat at Village Inn seriously, which is rather silly because it’s much easier to order Chinese food, and Ben is all about easy. (Please note: This is not a sly way of saying he dates sluts, because I have no problem telling him his girlfriends are not good enough for him.)

After much consideration I decided we would be spending Thanksgiving with Mrs. AK, her kids, the Japanese basement dwellers and our Canadian turkey baster. AK will be out of the country for the holiday, which sucks because there goes our designated driver, which makes it a weekend affair. If I’m going to have a Thanksgiving off from the Mormon family I’m going to spend it drinking massive amounts of wine–or course, saving some room for turkey and pie.

Today, Mrs. AK and I were assigning duties when she asked, “What task should I assign Ben? Entertainment?” “No,” I said, “I told him he would be carving the turkey and peeling veggies. He’s really good at skinning things. Which if you think about it is really worrisome.” Mrs. AK said, “Yes, but better than Arlo, who is apparently good at boning the turkey.”

I cannot wait for our dirty Thanksgiving!

I’m 32 today. I know this because my mom left me a voicemail telling me so. It went something like this: “Good Morning sweetheart, it’s your birthday. Have a good day.” Direct and to the point… I can appreciate that.

Today is like any other day: wake up, swear at the alarm clock, drink too much coffee, shower, get ready and go to work. Only I don’t want to. I want to lay around and be lazy. So I compromised; I didn’t shave my legs, which is fine since I don’t think birthday sex is on my agenda today.

In honor of today, I decided to post a picture of little Sarah:If the writing on the back is correct this was taken on my third birthday. Not a lot has changed with my sleeping habits. I still sleep with pink pajamas, only they don’t have feet anymore. Ernie has been replaced with a pug, my bed is a little bigger now, and I don’t sleep with a beanie. Unless I’m cold.

I wanted to wish everyone a Happy Halloween, even though I’m not a fan of the holiday.

Halloween week freaks me out… I hate seeing people dressed weird and wondering if it’s their normal attire or a costume. Case in point, last week I saw a couple sporting Spock ears while downtown for the Sarah Vowell reading. Costume or just freaks?

I’ll be celebrating the holiday the best way I know how: drunk in Maddie’s basement watching bad vampire flicks.

And here’s to hoping her fat cat left me some candy!

Marky and I have a bit. Which shouldn’t be surprising, since I seem to have some sort of bit with nearly everyone I know. Everyone fun, anyway. This particular bit I can’t take credit for. His best friend is responsible for this one. But it’s funny so I adopted it. Whenever we mention what we’re doing, the other always adds the word naked. For example:

Marky: “I can’t go. I’m going to help my friend set up his new TV.”
Sarah: “Naked?”

Simple, but oh so funny, or at least we think so. The “naked” habit is hard to break, and sometimes I say it without thinking twice. Yesterday I had lunch at the park with some of my family.

Sarah: ” Grandma, where did everyone go?”
Grandma: “They went to get something to drink.”
Sarah: “Naked?”
Grandma: “No, not that I noticed. Were you thirsty? Your mom left her drink over there.”

I can’t figure out if my family is so used to my odd behavior they don’t question these sorts of things, or if my family is a naked family and I just never knew.

Nothing says Happy Birthday like midget porn. For real.

Sue, one of my pseudo sisters, had a birthday party last night. (I have the best of both worlds: real brothers who have to do chores for me, and pretend sisters who are talented beyond belief. )

After a few drinks on the deck we moved into the living room to watch a “movie.” Something I suggest you don’t watch sober. Ever.

I am always one of the first to leave these parties. I’m old. But I always have an excellent reason for leaving. Last night’s excuse was my stripper bruises hurt: