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Driving into work today I accidentally had my iPod gangsta mix playing. Don’t judge me! Actually you can, I certainly would.

My phone rang and I hit speaker and answered it assuming it would be my brother bugging me about his latest prison tool obsession. It wasn’t. It was a client. Which is cool, I’m all for the clients I like calling me. Though, I have a feeling she may have a difficult time taking me serious after hearing “Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta” blaring in the background.

Oh well, such is life… you can’t win them all.

I am not a morning person. This is a well-known fact among my friends and previous bosses. I cannot function properly until after ten. This sucks for any of the clients I do work for, but…

I’ve tried everything: going to bed earlier, tripling my morning dose of coffee, massive does of morning meth and still nothing works.

Over the past year I’ve started turning into my mother by forgetting things right and left. Mornings are by far the worst time for remembering any details. I’m not talking about complicated details, just the basic essential items…like getting dressed. I’ve left the house and headed to the office in slippers multiple times in the last few months. Luckily it’s been cold so I’ve remembered pants–no one wants a frozen hiney.

As I’ve mentioned here and here, I’ve started leaving myself reminder notes on my front door to ensure some things aren’t forgotten. Today’s is by far the worst of the bunch: If I have to remind myself why I’m leaving the house it might be time to admit defeat and just stay home.

When Tommy is in town the majority of free-time is spent at Murphy’s. He’s worth the lung cancer I’m convinced I’ve developed over the last few days. He left this morning, so last night the troops rallied to give him a proper send-off. I promised myself I’d only stay a couple of hours, but that never seems to work. I also promised myself I’d not have any embarrassing moments, which also didn’t seem to work.

Miss D, my all-time favorite woman of the group, was there. I’ve not seen her as she’s been gallivanting around Europe, leaving us to fend for ourselves. (Many Hootie songs were heard on her behalf.) In my excitement to see her I didn’t pay much attention to the others sitting at the table. I started talking to her and another friend about my dating life and in typical Sarah fashion ended the story by uttering the term “dry-humping.” It was at that moment Miss D looked at the man sitting across from her and said, “Sarah, this is my father.” I could feel a slow burn rising to my cheeks and said, “OF course it is!” Miss D laughed and said something about another classic Sarah moment.

He had a great sense of humor and wasn’t bothered at all. Luckily my dating life is in a lull these days; otherwise, I’m afraid of what other non-parental term I may have uttered in front of him.

Later in the evening I was looking for my purse and found it tucked away at his table. I’m guessing he sensed my lack of responsibility and decided he better keep an eye out for me. And I’m sure glad he did! I need all the help I can get.

Tagged: I am to post 7 weird things about myself.

The rules are:

A). Link to the person who tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
B). Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.
C). Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
D). Let each person know that they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1) I still sleep with a baby blanket. I’ve been known to take it along when spending the night with men. An ex used to tease me mercilessly, but secretly he thought it was hot.

2) I cannot sleep if my knees are touching, or if my my hair is touching my face. The baby blanket comes in handy for keeping my knees apart (insert own perverted thought here). The hair issue is solved by putting my hair in a bun at night. Which, I’ve been told, makes me naughty librarian hot.

3) I like my coffee better cold, even in the winter. I think it’s the last remaining bit of Mormon in me. MUST DRINK CAFFEINE COLD! That shit is hardwired into my brain.

4) I hate pushing a grocery cart. When I go shopping I use the little basket, even if it means going to the grocery store more often. The only time I push one is when I go to Costco with Marky, and he ditches the cart like he did today. Yes, I’m still bitter.

5) There are stacks of books surrounding my bed, but when I bring a guy home I kick them under the bed so he doesn’t see. I have no idea why I don’t want a man to see how much I read, especially since it helps with the naughty librarian role play.

6) I made up words all the time and try to pass them off as actual words. Sometimes I can be so convincing I forget they aren’t real myself.

7) I know an entire bottle of wine fits perfectly into a Nalgene bottle. I know this because it’s the only way to get me to go camping and/or hiking. Red wine makes everything fun! I don’t actually think this is weird, but others have teased me enough I’m nearly convinced.

Note to self: be less weird.

I’m too lazy to tag anyone, so let’s mix this up and let seven readers tag themselves. Leave a comment on this post so people can link to yours.

My friend Marky has a secret life. He has an entire friend network I’ve never met. For the longest time I just assumed they were all made up, and served as an excuse why he couldn’t accompany me on errands. Then I met one of his imaginary friends, and it turns out he’s indeed a real person with a name and everything! But, of course, I instantly forgot his name, so when I see him around town I never say hello. Which isn’t a big deal because I’m positive he hates me. There’s no other explanation for his odd behavior.

It started at Cafe Niche when I was having brunch with my girlfriends. Non-imaginary friend sat down at the table next to us, drank a little coffee and then bolted to a table across the room. Recognizing him as one of Marky’s friends I tried my best to keep the offensive brunch conversation to a minimum by not saying vagina over and over, so I knew that wasn’t the reason for his move.

I noticed him again at one of my favorite lunch spots and he did his best to avoid any contact with me. Over the course of a month there’s been quite a few run-ins, without any acknowledgment on either of our parts.

I can’t help but wonder what Marky is telling his friends to make them hate me so. Is it that I made him leave the U game early to take me to the library? Or is it because I doubted their existence to begin with?

1) When you wake up with a migraine always, ALWAYS take medicine for it! Do not try to tough it out, this just results in being a mess when your entire day goes to shit.

2) Never break anything in your house on a Saturday night. Every boy you know will either be having sex and not answering the phone, drinking at the bar and can’t drive or they’ve abandoned you and moved to stupid San Diego. Also, brothers are always MIA during sister emergencies, proving they really are worthless and your parents should have made more girls.

2) Pink hammers are cute, but not intended for real work. They break easily and you’re left with a broken hammer, a broken lock, a broken spirit and no boys to be found.

3) When you need to pee while in Sandy at Target after drinking wine and coffee, do not decide to hold it until you get home (which is downtown). Because ultimately you’ll end up locked out of your bathroom and screaming at the lock to open. Which of course won’t, so you end up in tears, and still have no bathroom to clean the mascara off your face.

4) Never decide to stay home on a Saturday night. Always meet your friends at the bar when they text you, otherwise bad things happen.

How do you cure klutziness? Is there a magic pill or mind relaxation tapes?

I’m constantly in a rush. I love the concept of time, but I just don’t grasp it. I’m constantly late. I was born two weeks late and it sorta stuck with me for life. I always wanted to be considered a “lifer” but for something other than being punctually-challenged.

Between constantly rushing and my natural klutz-like behavior I’m getting hurt a lot. Until now it’s just been slight bruising, and the occasional paper cut. Yesterday it was slightly more serious–I burnt my right boob. Yes, seriously.

I was rushing while getting ready for work. I like to do things in order: shower, get dressed THEN do my hair. I should have known mixing the order up would result in harm. I hadn’t decided what I wanted to wear so I was curling my hair in panties only. (Can we please not go there? Thanks!) Being my klutzy self I dropped my curling iron, and of course it rolled down my chest, leaving me with a zebra stripe looking burn. Don’t get me wrong, I love animal print but usually just on shoes–not human flesh, especially my flesh.

1) All age concerts in Orem, Utah. Ugg.

2) My friend’s son sent me a friend request on MySpace. Enough said.

3) I recently found when I jump as high as I can on a trampoline I pee a little.

4) I’m considering dating someone with kids. This is something I’ve avoided in the past, but I’m quickly realizing men my age that are completely unattached are usually that way for a reason.

5)I have fiber supplements in my medicine cupboard.

6) I have a medicine cupboard.

Today, while on the phone with a cute guy I know, he asked “So what are you doing this week?” To which I replied, “Sweating.” Our conversation sorta fizzed out at that point. Who wants to ask the sweaty girl out? Exactly.

Not a damn thing if you ask me! If you ask my friend Justin, however, he’ll tell you how “quirky” it is that I keep my coffee pot in the fridge. (And by quirky he means weird as hell.)

I like iced coffee, why wouldn’t I put it in the fridge?

After I explained he still laughed at me. See if I ever invite him over for lunch again.