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Kelli called me last night as I was in the bathroom washing my face before bed. Usually I would have just called her back, but because we always end up playing phone tag I answered the call and immediately put her on speaker.

“I promise I’m not using a vibrator. I know it sounds like one but it’s this new Clean and Clear’s Blackhead Eraser that I bought at Target tonight.”

“Sarah, our friendship just died. You cannot answer the phone and talk about a vibrator instead of saying hello.”

“Oh yes I can, it’s going to bring us closer together.”

We continued our conversation as I washed my face. She told me all about playing Bunko with some friends. I pointed out it was only a matter of time until she moved back to Utah and joined out mother’s game group. She told me to shut-up.

I finished up with my mini-facial and was admiring my smooth skin in the mirror.

“Damn that feels good.”

“Well of course it does. That’s the point of a vibrator, Sarah.”

It’s Thursday and you know what that means right? In Utah This Week comes out! You can read my column while I obsess over mistakes in my column.

To read the column online go here, to download the PDF version go here.

My purse doesn’t contain nearly enough antibacterial lotion to prevent chlamydia, so I won’t be riding the train ever again. I thought about looking on Craigslist for free rides, but realized those probably come with an STD, too. Looks like these legs will be walking all summer.

Last night was the big launch party for the new issue of Wasatch Woman magazine. I wrote two features for this issue, so I was very excited to attend.

I got home from the day with plenty of time to get ready, but had a bit of a headache so I popped some Advil and decided to lie down on the couch for a few minutes until the headache was gone.

I woke up two hours later.

SHIT.

Knowing I was already 30 minutes late I didn’t have time to get ready. I quickly threw on the first clothes I saw, grabbed my purse and I was off.

While at a red light I looked in the mirror and realized my hair was a disaster. I ran my fingers through it, but it ended up looking even worse. Great. I’m the girl who goes to a party at an upscale salon with fuzzy hair.

At the next red light I tried to fix my bra. The straps needed to be tightened so I pulled down one side of my shirt for easy access. I do it in the bathroom all the time, so I didn’t think twice–until I heard the car next to me honking and looked up to see two teenage boys waving at me. Luckily the light turned green before I had a change to slit my own wrists.

I finally arrive at the party and the first thing I see is my editor, Pam, wearing the exact same shirt. The one time I wear a bright color instead of black and I end up with a doppelganger. Oh and Pam is pregnant, which means I looked like I was wearing a maternity shirt, too.

I’m naming my pretend baby Petunia. I’m also going to have a baby shower and request large bottles of vodka because I’m totally going to need them when I see the pictures from the party.

I live in complete fear of the drop-in. I don’t just fear the dating drop-in, I fear ANYONE dropping by my apartment. When I hear a knock I stop what I’m doing, drop to the floor and fervently pray that the knock in on my neighbors’ door and not mine.

Sadly I’m not exaggerating. Well, maybe about the praying part, but nothing else.

My apartment is a complete disaster and has been since I returned to school. By the time I finish with everything that needs to be done I want to sack out on the couch, not clean the couch.

I’ve lived in my apartment for five years. This is the longest I’ve lived anywhere since moving out of my parents’ house at 18. I once loved my cute little apartment with a loft bedroom. It’s charming and totally fits my personality. However, the busier I got the more I stopped caring about how clean things were. The carpets look like I had a rave party and the abandoned shoes all over complete the look.

I’d love to buy a small condo, but that small savings I had went to the University of Utah. I’m not complaining, mind you, a degree is totally worth it. It’s just… well… I’m tired of not being able to invite people over. I would die if anyone saw how messy my place is.

Rather than set aside a day to clean up and rent a carpet cleaner, I’m blogging about the situation. Blogging and trying to convince myself that tomorrow will be the day that Daisy the Pug develops opposable thumbs and turns into a French maid.

My family had a BBQ to celebrate Mother’s Day yesterday. Nothing says thanks for creating me like fat, juicy hamburgers and homemade cinnamon rolls.

I should have helped in the kitchen, or at least pretended to help; however someone had to jump on the trampoline with the kids and look like a jackass.

I’m that jackass… anything to get out of kitchen duty.

ANYTHING.

Here’s the video to prove it:

I edited out the part where I explain to my niece that we can no longer jump high because it makes Aunt Sarah pee her pants. That part is OK on film, but what’s not OK is when I explain to a child that I have an old lady bladder and that she’s going to totally have to change my diapers when I’m old because I changed hers. In exchange for diaper duty I had to agree to poop pink glitter. I think that’s more than fair.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mommies out there, especially mine! I love her enough to change her diapers when she’s old even if her poop isn’t pink glitter. I love you Mommy!

I really wanted to title the video “Real Men Ride Pink” but didn’t. You’re welcome.

Before you get your panties in a bunch I should mention while this photo WAS taken this morning, the actual wine was consumed last night. I like to celebrate Friday like anyone, but usually I wait until happy hour for that.

To read this week’s “That’s What She Said” column online go here. To download the PDF version go here.

This week I talk about my friendships with Kelli, Summer, and Susan. Of course I used a “Sex and the City” comparison because, well, I wanted to and it’s my damn column.

Would you believe me if I told you I couldn’t write you a worthwhile blog because an especially nasty zit took over my body?

What if I had proof?

This video was taken last Saturday when I went to the Roller Derby with friends. Luckily I didn’t have to purchase a ticket for the zit, or the giant wad of watermelon bubble gum in my mouth. Whew.