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while in the dressing room at express yesterday, i overheard two young girls discussing the skirts they were trying on. when having trouble deciding one asked the other, “what would jesus think if he walked into the room when you were wearing it?”

as i walked out they mistakenly asked my opinion, i simply stated, “jesus strikes me more of the red or black type, not baby blue”. i walked out as their jaws hit the floor.

i’m positive i’m going to hell, but at least i know i’ll be warm there.

i’ve never been a big fan of personalized license plates, but this one was just too fabulous not to like….

this morning ben and i were discussing his summer haircut plans, he’s moving “home” for the summer. we’ve decided if he is going to live in the country he has to be country (don’t worry, it’s just for the summer).

the obvious answer is, of course, a mullet.

when he was trying to explain what he wanted it to look like he said, “i don’t want it to scream i want to sleep with my cousins, i want it to whisper it”.

it was at this point i realized, we are most definitely related; siblings NOT cousins!

i love easter: the eggs, the candy. it’s nice to forget our cholesterol and refined sugar worries, even if only for the day. it’s also one of the few times i accept children with holiday bows in their hair. you know the sort– gigantic badly ebay-ed “big love” bows.

i hated church, even as a child, however, easter sunday was different; pretty new dresses always had the ability to soften those hard pews. although, perhaps the fidgeting was intentional on this day, to draw attention to the new dress. god, being an only girl in a world of boys was never easy. they just couldn’t appreciate starched lace and kid gloves, like the blue-haired that sat behind us.

this year, the only new easter dress i saw was on my niece, as she and her twin brother took part in an easter egg hunt at my parents house. i was given the task of helping hannah with the eggs she couldn’t reach. she was ecstatic each time she spotted an egg, screaming at the top of her red-headed lungs, “EASTERRRRR EGGS for hannah” (she always has to assign things as hers to avoid sharing with her brother). she spotted an egg behind a little jesus picture my mom has on her piano (mormon paraphernalia), as i lifted her to grab it i could see the confusion on her little face. “auntie sarah, it’s jesus eggs?” this was the defining moment of my weekend; do i remind her they are easter eggs or do i encourage jesus egg talk, knowing well my mom will be slightly annoyed.

i don’t think i need to explain the route i took. hello, lightening!

i’m heading to the country for easter. i don’t go home as much as i should. i blame my country allergies, but the truth is i go crazy there–out of my mind bored crazy. the town (if you can call it that) i grew up in is itsy bitsy. so, when i head down my mom always wants me to pick some things up for her, as the nearest target is an hour away (gasp!!). this list included lipstick and 2 boxes of claritin, a must have for country living, claritin-not lipstick. the first store i went to only had one box of claritin left. no biggie, more than one target in a day is a happy day for me! at the next store i decided to be a good daughter and pick up a couple more boxes, no reason for her to worry about making another trip soon.

this, was not my best idea.

while paying they asked for my drivers license, credit card safety precaution i assumed. notsomuch. i was asked to take a seat while they called the pharmacist. i’ve been flagged. store policies in utah changed last week. you’re only allowed to buy one box per day; i’d already purchased my limit less than 20 minutes earlier. security and the pharmacist had a nice little chat with me about meth use in utah. while i’m not a chemist, i think that perhaps extracting the sudaphedrine to make meth is more trouble than it’s worth.

the best part? the chat contained the words “homeland security” 5 times, none of which were uttered by me.

thanks, mom.

a seemingly normal couple? not a chance in hell. wait, do scientologists believe in hell?remember when tom cruise was cute (circa- risky business), and mostly sane? this was, of course, before he donated his once functioning brain to “the cause” or scientology, whatever.

the upcoming birth of his monster baby just keeps getting weirder and weirder. the silent birth? come on, i’ve seen movies– you’re supposed to scream and carry on, cursing your husband and sometimes even threatening his life. scientologists believe this strange ritual should be carried out to prevent children from turning mad. funny, because i thought scientology was the factor in turning people mad.

scream, katie, scream! then, for the love of god, wash your hair.

dear mystery boy,

i would like to take a moment and apologize for this next post. i know you don’t approve of my sbux obsession/addiction. however, i’m fantastic, so i’m hoping you will overlook this minor detail. i, sarah middlenameless _____, do solemnly swear never to ask you to enter said establishment. while in your presence i will always frequent coffeehouses of your choice.

heart,
sarah

with that out of the way here it goes….

yes, that’s a sbux apron you see. no, i didn’t get a barista job (my flirting with older women skills just aren’t up to speed). i’ve been made an honorary member of the elite sbux team.

that frog is full of shit, going green is good!

remember flashdance? i do! be a maniac, MANIAC!

i love that some of my fav 80’s fashion trends are reappearing.

leggings. i’ve got ’em. i’m wearing ’em.

the rest of you can either a) hop on the trend wagon or b) shut the hell up.

tim is and always will remain my music god. he has taken part in many interventions with ben, and myself. most recently because i have once again pledged my love of bad 80’s hair bands, he doesn’t put up with such nonsense. it’s because of that last statement i feel that he has replenished my ipod with musical goodness!

i’m going home to sit in a dark basement, lit only with candles, to cry myself to sleep. i am once again, a hip kid.

tim, i remain your humble follower, because you keep me from having to listen to real radio….