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Do you have a justification dance? I do. It’s cute and geeky all at the same time. And today I had the opportunity to share it with everyone in the parking lot of Blockbuster.

I went with Marky to pick up some crack cocaine, or Deadwood, whatever. Do not deny this boy his smack. He gets moody! As we were checking out Marky was lingering near the treats. I kindly reminded him we were stopping at Maverick for drinks and Sunchips. The cashier got excited, which is not normal. (The Hollywood Video near my house employs zombie kids. I’m sure they are just hungover and puffy from the previous night, but I’m sticking with the zombie story.) The cashier and I, we bonded over cinamon flavored Sunchips. I discovered them at a truck stop in Evanston and have been in love ever since. Seriously, churros in a bag. It’s a beautiful thing.

As usual Marky has been forced to accept my obsessions. Meaning he’s driven me to countless gas stations on the hunt for them. Sadly, they’re not so easy to find. I was so excited that someone else was just as addicted. Suddenly I felt normal. Of course only for a brief second, because that’s when the parking lot of people saw me dancing around with my fist in the air–ala Rocky Balboa.

Dear Men of SLC,

I’m thrilled that you don’t have the body issues we women tend to have, but please for the love of god cover up your man fur! I know it’s hot as hell outside, yet I still wear clothing and would appreciate it if you could.

I can see your reasoning that the back hair provides a protective layer for your sensitive skin while riding your bike. BUT, what about the protective layer for the rest of us? If you don’t have a shirt, I’d be more than happy to raid Ben’s closet and steal you one. Seriously, whatever it takes.

If you could rectify this situation immediately that would be great. I thank you. Young children thank you. The city thanks you.

Regards,
Sarah

Last night’s Clemson night was spent drinking at The Twilight Lounge. It was there I discovered I’m awesome at pinball. I mean, I’ve always suspected but with the help of a much younger version of Mel Gibson I beat Jon hands down. Though Jon may not agree with that last statement, he felt we ended in a tie. I agreed on a tie, but with me secretly winning.

I started going grocery shopping with Marky. For two reasons: 1) He always drives, and 2) I don’t have to talk to people, therefore keeping the name calling to a minimum.

So yesterday when the following conversation took place:

I’d hate for the world wide web to think I don’t know how to properly store vodka. See those three bottles next to my ice cubes? All vodka. The fridge vodka is back-up. A girl must have martini supplies at all times. And no, I didn’t learn that one from my mother, but Dorothy Parker.

Do you ever find yourself looking at a friend mid-conversation and wonder why in the world you’re even friends with him or/her? And just because I do that, does that make me a shitty friend?

Just because Ben is getting older, do I have to?

I miss someone I shouldn’t be missing–do I act on that?

I walked into the bathroom last night with the intention of throwing a teeny bopper clothing catalog into the garbage.

I glanced at the toilet, then glanced back at the magazine and quickly without a second thought I sat down and flipped through the pages while I peed.

I finished up business, tossed the catalog into the trash, washed my hands and felt manlier than I have in a very long time. Which is a tad surprising, given my deep mannish voice.

Is it just me or are these dinner mints an odd choice for a Thai restaurant?

Being the constant klutz, I accidentally knocked over a friend’s orchid while at his place last week. It snapped in half and was totally unsalvageable. After a bit of a guilt trip on his part I replaced it with a new one.

I picked it for the color and didn’t notice the name until I gave it to him: “City Girl x Marriage Ring.” I kept the tag and added it to my own orchid. Who knows, it may bring me luck… or a ring.