Contact

Yesterday I came home from work to find Daisy had a very busy day.

My bedroom floor went from one giant, organized pile of clothing to clothes strewn everywhere. I’ve found when I’m too busy to walk her she naps all day on my clothing. Sounds cute in theory, but a little creepy when you find your bras and panties on the dog bed intertwined with a soggy dog bone.

Apparently when she was done ruining my life she decided to play mama:

Of course it wasn’t intentional, she’s maim anything that got in the way of her food bowl.  She gets pretty rambunctious when she plays with her stuffed animals, which must have resulted in the above.  I laughed and then took the little bitch for a walk–where I lectured her on the importance of not napping with my underwear.

I have finally discovered the key to productive weekends! The secret is in the list.

I’ve always been a list person.  At any given moment you can find at least half a dozen lists in the bottom of my purse (alongside an expired, flavored condom.. which I’m still not entirely sure how it got there).

At the beginning of every weekend I write out my giant ‘to do’ list. Typically I look at the list and find it so intimidating that I choose to take a nap instead. This weekend, however, I decided to add some items to the list that I knew I’d get done. Every once in a while I need to feel that sense of accomplishment when I cross something off the list.

I think everyone would benefit from achievable lists, which is why I’m never writing “clean room” again.  I have got to stop setting myself up for failure.

October is a rough month for me.  It means my birthday is drawing near, and who wants to get any older?  Not me!  And more importantly, it’s the anniversary of Tim’s death.

Every time I see those first leaves fall it takes me back to that day.  Standing outside of his house while the police officer tried to talk to me about the situation.  I was afraid if I looked into his eyes as he spoke the moment would be real.  So instead I stood there listening to him while silently staring at the leaves on the ground until the tears blurred my vision.

How stupidly naive I was to think that moment could be any less real.  My friend was dead.  That’s as real as it fucking gets.

This year I’ve been trying so hard to ignore all the feelings that surround a friend’s death anniversary, but last night those feelings found me.  I was at a party enjoying myself when the man I was with started talking to a friend of his who shares my name.  As common as my name is last night was the first time I’d ever met someone sharing the name.  I was amused until he called her “snielson.”  I instantly felt like I’d been kicked in the chest; Tim called me snielson.

I stood there in awkward silence nursing my drink until it was time for me to head home.  Home to an apartment where still, four years later, my books still smell like Tim.

Yesterday I strapped on my scooter helmet and was about to walk out the door when I realized I needed to use the bathroom before leaving. So I did, while wearing a helmet. Sure, it felt a little odd, but laziness pretty much runs my life, and I was far too lazy to take the helmet off.

Later, after class, while getting on my bike I dropped my helmet on the cement. A crack and much cursing ensued.

I’m pretty sure the universe is telling me that my hair looks much better without helmet head.

This week’s “That’s What She Said” is all about bush.  No really, it is.

Yesterday I was going through some of my favorite books to compile a reading list for a friend, when I found two notes from two different boyfriends in one book.

Leaving me to wonder if I’m a giant slut, or just a very slow reader.

Dear Internet,

I’m divorcing RLO.  You know when parents divorce and tell the kids it’s not their fault?  Well Internet, you’re the children and this divorce is your fault.

After reading all the comments accusing me of being obsessed with RLO I’m suddenly worried I may secretly be in love with him and have no idea. So I’m going to take the easy way out and replace him. If Paris Hilton can find a new BFF so can I.  Not that I’m comparing myself to Paris.  I’ve seen her “porn” and if I had an Internet sex tape I’d have the decency to fake enjoyment.  Don’t viewers deserve that much?

As usual, I digress.

I gave him notice and he was obviously very distraught over the news.  He even tried to worm his way back into my life by telling me he’s already purchased my birthday present.  OF COURSE I WANT IT!  I even tried to guess what it was:

Is it pink?
Is it a sex toy
Is it frozen sperm?
Is it a Book of Mormon?
Is it chocolate cake?
Is it an eye-less horse?
Is it a singing telegram from Kurt Bestor?
Is it vagina greeting cards from Etsy?

I asked him to mail the present because I’m dying to know what he got me.  Aren’t you?  Well too damn bad.

Ha. I win.

Love,
Sarah

RLO is ruining my life and apparently I only have myself to blame.

I recently set him up with one of my co-workers. I know, I know… in my attempt to see RLO happy I completely forgot how this would affect me–which, is pretty surprising given how selfish I am.

Thus far I’ve been pretty patient with the whole thing. I mean yeah, I’m annoyed that he’s sooooo busy dry-humping that he’s not available to go out to dinner with me. But, being the good friend that I am, I’ve dealt with it and probably saved a lot of money as a result. However, with the holiday season fast approaching I’ve got quite the dilemma: RLO has always been my pseudo date for events and parties.

Enter office party.
Enter a dateless Sarah.
Enter the end of my life.

Now that I’ve set them up, I’ve got to break them up before the office Christmas party. I’ve got a few ideas, but since most of them illegal I’m relying on RLO to screw this one up on his own. I know he’ll do the right thing.  The right thing for me, not him.

I’m worried about RLO.  I couldn’t help but notice this on his refrigerator when I stopped by his house:

It seems he’s acting out.  He wasn’t expecting me at his house that day, so he didn’t have time to change the words to something more appropriate like “I worship Sarah.”  I’m giving him a week to change it.  If it’s not changed to a positive Sarah message I’ll force him to tattoo it on his left ass cheek instead.