Contact

I’m 32 and single. Which makes zero sense because I’m quite fabulous. Sometimes a giant pain in the ass, but I’m convinced it’s really quite adorable. So why am I single you ask? GOOD QUESTION! I’d like to think it has nothing to do with my issues and is really a matter of not meeting the right guy. Although, I finally figured out whom the “right guy” is! You’re dying to know, are you?

Well, there is a couple that would fit the bill. I know, I know. The more the merrier, right? But for this post there is one in particular—one perfect man for me. The only problem is he doesn’t actually exist outside of television–The “Gilmore Girls” to be specific. Yes, I’m fully aware of my unhealthy obsession with this show. Fuck off. I don’t care one little bit!

Luke Danes is my dream man!

I love him soooooo much I could totally overlook the flannel and backwards baseball cap, because he cooks AND makes a killer cup coffee. Enough said.

Isn’t he like totally dreamy and purrrrr-fect for me? Now that my future TV husband is decided I should quit putting of my school research paper by watching re-runs on the family channel and get to work.

The “Rock of Love” Tour is coming to Salt Lake!

Last night when I got the email I squealed so loudly my dog still hasn’t come out of hiding. I cannot wait to see Bret Michaels and his STD tramps. Luckily for Rlo, my friend Jess is just as obsessed and is going to go with me. I apologize in advance for all the incessant chatter that my coworkers will have to put up with. Though, I think they are more supportive of my insanity then they let on. Proof? Wileypants just sent me this:

I’m feeling much better today. I went back to work, and it didn’t completely suck. Sure, I wanted to be back in bed, but the social aspect was good. I fear The Kid had no one to entertain him, or boss him while I was out and may have been bored. He can pretend he didn’t miss me, but I know the truth.

Tonight, however, you wouldn’t know I was feeling better. I’m in the same cozy corner on the couch, wearing practically the same uniform of flannel pajama pants, pink fuzzy slipper sock and a Neil Diamond shirt. Though, this version is clean, and less contaminated with death flu germs. I’m snuggled under the same, also newly laundered, blanket watching more Gilmore Girls reruns while reading news sites on my laptop. I should be out celebrating the fact I’m a death flu survivor at the pub with friends, but frankly I can’t muster the energy. I’d much rather enjoy the witty banter of my all-time favorite show and long for the days when Midge and I would snuggle in bed with a bottle of red wine while watching, and yell at one another for talking during any dialogue.

Perhaps Arlo would enjoy the show. I use the term enjoy loosely, because he won’t, but he also doesn’t enjoy Rock of Love and still tolerates it for the sake of shutting me up. And if he refuses I’ll use guilt. He’s religious, so clearly he responds well to such tactics.

When I started working for a company only ten minutes from home, I was thrilled. Finally, I could start going home a couple of times a week for lunch–what a great way to save money for my jean habit!

And it was great, for the first couple of weeks anyway. After which things took a turn for the worse–I blame the writers strike. They took away my “good” TV habits and forced me into a reality TV addiction. I’ve despised reality television ever since Julie, the Mormon BYU student, cried in what felt like every single episode or The Real World. The only exception was when Mrs. AK started watching Project Runway. As a rule of thumb when your host is feeding you dinner you watch what she is watching without complaint. (Yes, Arlo, that’s directed at you.)

But suddenly, with nothing decent on primetime TV, I found myself watching Rock of Love, The Hills, and Scott Baio is 46 and Pregnant religiously.

When I go home for lunch I watch my trash TV while eating my lunch. Yesterday, however, I hit my breaking point. With a weekend to catch up on my shit shows, I was left with nothing but daytime television to accompany my lunch. I found myself watching Full House reruns. Yes, seriously. And let me tell you, they are just as stupid now as they were then. Uncle Jesse is still the only reason to watch the show, and frankly I remember him being sexier. I guess this is further proof that cheesy writing can ruin anyone’s sex appeal.

On my drive back to work, I vowed to stop watching lunchtime TV and start reading. It’s not like I don’t have enough books at my house, not to mention a growing list of books to buy. At a red light I reached into my pants pocket for my earlier written grocery list to add a book or two while I was thinking about it. Only there wasn’t a grocery list, there was instead a movie ticket and bar receipt. Odd. Upon closer inspection I found I wasn’t wearing the pants I had on earlier.

Another thing about going home lunch is the minute I walk into my apartment I feel the need to shed my pants and shoes as quickly as possible. I have got to start paying closer attention to details… like clothing. Otherwise I could easily end up back at the office in pajama pants.

Bret Michaels is coming for me! Or Arlo. Either way… awesome!

Working full-time, going to school full-time and making time to watch Snoop Dogg’s Father Hood doesn’t leave me with a whole lot of free time. Fitting in daily tasks such as grocery shopping, sleeping and working out has been a challenge.

Yesterday, while lunching with a co-worker, we decided to try and fit in a liquor store run. The weekend is nearly upon us and I was completely out of wine. Unacceptable. The trip was a complete success; my favorite Shiraz was on sale. Getting into his car to head back to work I heard my mother’s nagging “Buckle-up, Sarah, safety first.” So I did.

A couple of blocks from the office a SUV next to us forgot to check lanes before moving over. (Is it really that difficult?) The vehicle nearly hit us and it was that moment I realized I’d buckled the wrong seat belt.

Today I had the opportunity to make an appearance on Studio 5 with Brooke Walker to discuss blogging. It was my first television gig, unless you count the time I was arrested for robbing the 7-11. I kid, I kid. (Seriously, mom, I’m joking. No need to call.)

It’s true what they say about the camera adding 10 pounds. Strangely it added the weight to my face, when I’d requested it go straight to my chest. Oh well, it’s always worth a shot.

I had a great time and if you’ve not watched Studio 5 you should definitely check it out. They were all very nice, even if they did make me watch BYU baseball dubbed in Spanish in the waiting area.