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While paying for a drink and gum at a gas station last night the woman in line behind me asked, “Does your rash hurt?”

“Um, it’s pretty itchy, but wine helps.”

Before she had a chance to respond the cashier motioned for me to pay for my purchase.  When I turned around she was gone.

I got home and studied myself in the mirror.  I was wearing a tank top, but the rash is limited to just my legs.  I looked at myself from every angle in the mirror and couldn’t see any spots of rash.  For the life of me I could not figure out how this woman had noticed my rash.

And then it hit me.

Not only did I write about the rash on the Internet, but I also posted a picture of my left ass cheek for all to see.

Great.  Just great.

And you know what else wine helps?  It helps me forget public humiliation–one glass at a time.

Today at lunch AK pulled out his Blackberry and asked me to smile for a picture. I thought it was odd, but assumed he wanted a shot of my Barbie Band-Aid on my chest so he could make fun of me later. It wasn’t until he emailed me the photo I understood why he was taking it. AK knows a good photo opportunity when he sees one.

To read this week’s column click here.  I think every local should visit The Woodshed at least once.  I’m seriously obsessed with this bar, and not just because of the freebie condom jar.  Well maybe that has a little something to do with it.

I’m feeling a little happier and I credit you people. Seriously. Reading your comments made me feel so much better, even if you bitches didn’t offer to trade place with me. And guess what? I read your suggestions and went to see a doctor.

It was there I learned that there’s a clinical condition for my sucky life. It’s called a heat rash. The doctor told me he has never seen one as horrible as mine in an adult. Awesome.

Wanna see my rash?  Of course you don’t.  Gross.  Well too fucking bad!

As the doctor wrote a prescription out for steroid cream he stressed how little cream I needed to rub into my awesome hotness. So you’ll understand when my surprise when the pharmacist handed me this one pound bad boy:

Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go get naked, cover myself in stinky cream and drown my heat/life induced sorrows in a giant bottle of wine. I’ve never felt sexier.

Monday was quite possibly the worst day I’ve had in months.  I think it was partly due to some lingering sadness over my favorite sister-in-law Holli being so visibly gone from our lives, and partly because sometimes life fucking sucks.

I know, I know… “Suck it up Sarah.”  But for once I don’t want to.  We all have those days, right?  RIGHT?

Rather than sucking it up I called a friend of mine who, despite the situation, always has the ability to cheer me up.

“I need to talk.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I hate my life.  Everything is wrong and I’m just tired of going at it alone every single day.”

“Specifics, Sarah, we can talk through this.”

“It’s dreadfully hot in my apartment, and suddenly I’m regretting my decision not to move in with my brother.  I have this stupid rash on my legs that not only won’t go away but also is making me so itchy I’m afraid I am going to scratch my skin off.  I had a bad day at work and wanted to walk out and never return.  I was well on my way to my math class and was in such a foul mood I knew I’d likely throw a book at the professor if he told me to plug and chug one more time, so I turned around and drove back home.  Once I got home I realized I was alone. Just like I am every single day of my life and for once I wasn’t OK with it.”

“Sarah, you’re beautiful, smart, clever, and the most comical woman I know.  Many people would love to have your life.”

“Well can you find one of those people and I’ll trade them?  Pick one who has AC, a dishwasher, a sexy husband who can cook, a pool, skinny thighs and a flat tummy.”

“Yeah, let me get right on that one.”

As a kid I remember my mom having the most beautiful suitcase in the entire world. I never understood why she kept it in her closet and didn’t use it every single day. As I got older I learned it was her temple bag, and therefore only used when she went to the temple.

After years of coveting the suitcase, she finally parted ways with it and gave it to me last Sunday. It’s 70-licious and I can’t wait to use it! It will make an excellent booty-call bag. It’s the perfect size for a toothbrush, nightie and bottle of vodka.

As I walked to my car to put my new treasure in the trunk, I was planning all the extracurricular activities I could use it for when my mom yelled after me, “Have fun at the temple!”

So that’s where I get my sarcasm—I’ve often wondered.

Fathers Day this year wasn’t quite as happy as years past. The only home life my beloved niece and nephew have known ended over the weekend when their mommy moved out.

Our family met at Matt’s house for a BBQ.  Ben and I walked in to find my nephew, Carter, laying on the floor where the couch once was with his baby blanket.  My dad had warned me it was going to be a rough day for everyone, and he has never been so right.

Carter was pretty upset by the ordeal. He’s such a tender little guy and seeing him so sad, and knowing I couldn’t help him broke my heart. Ben, on the other hand, was thrilled. Not because he’s a horrible person and enjoys family pain, but because Carter was so upset he let Ben hold him. This is a very rare occurrence.

Hannah, was her cheerful self and informed me she is way luckier than I am because she has two houses and I don’t have any. I didn’t pour my Diet Coke on her head, and instead gave her a new shirt from Mrs. AK and Little AK. She was ecstatic when I told her they had bought one for me as well. “Aunt Sarah, I want to help throw Uncle Mean (Ben) away.”

When the divorce is final I think I’ll throw my brother a fresh meat themed party. I plan to only serve bacon and invite hookers. He wasn’t keen on the hookers, but agreed on strippers. “You know for Ben’s enjoyment.”

Last night was BFF night at the AK household. After dinner Rlo and I put Little AK to bed. When the story was finished Rlo went back downstairs. I continued to lie next her for a few more minutes.

While rubbing my back Little AK asked, “Sarah, will you come back and play tomorrow?” “I don’t know sweetie. Keep rubbing my back while I decide.” She continued to rub and asked, “Can Rlo come too? It’s Fathers Day tomorrow… is Rlo a father?” “No, Rlo is our BFF, but he’s not a daddy,” I replied. I could see the confusion in her little eyes when she said, “But Sarah, you always say that Rlo has a Baby Jesus.”

I stifled a giggle and tried to answer her as best I could, “Rlo does have a Baby Jesus, but he’s not a real person.” She looked even more confused than before, and knowing that I’ve done enough damage with the Jesus factor lately, so I wasn’t about to try and clarify. “Honey, I’m going to give you a big hug and kiss, and then go get Rlo so he explain.”

And that’s exactly what I did. Rlo cleans up all my other life messes; why not let him take on this one?

Earlier this week I lost my car in a parking garage. There is only one person to blame for this, and it’s obviously not me. It’s this girl.

Doni is an Internet stranger. Scratch that. Doni was an Internet stranger, until this week when we met for coffee. I think a shiver just went up my mother’s spine. My mom doesn’t understand that the Internet has THE best people. Ever. They bring you presents when they don’t even know you.

When parking in a garage I always write down the location of my car. I can’t be trusted to remember anything as important as the location of my car. I was late meeting Doni for coffee so in my rush I didn’t write down the car location. Enter lost car. Forty five minutes, and three levels later I found my car. To reward myself I stopped at Starbucks. For those of you paying attention, yes, I did just come from a coffee shop. BUT, in our excitement to meet, Doni and I both forgot to actually order coffee. Or at least I did. Back at the second Starbucks I realized I had lost my debit card, after I had ordered my coffee and been prepared. Fuck.

When I tried to explain the situation to the barista, she asked why I didn’t pay with the credit card she noticed in my wallet. I tried to explain to her I’d maxed it out just the night before when I found a pair of Joe ‘s jeans I just couldn’t live without in Nordstroms. She looked at me blankly, so in an effort to make her understand I showed her. “Seriously, look at how good these make my ass look.” I did a slow model twirl for her. Again, she looked at me blankly and I gave up. I walked out of a Starbucks for the second time in one day without any coffee, which for me is more tragic than a lost car, or a lost debit card.

After reading every comment left on the Pimp Your Blog post I think it’s safe to say I have the most incredible, supportive readers—you guys are way better than a boyfriend. Now if I could get you to take out my trash and change my light bulbs I’d marry you. All of you. What I’m saying is I’m so glad you bitches are here and want to snuggle and head nuzzle every single one of you. Some of you even twice.

As promised here is the complete list of links left. I’m only a couple blogs in, but will read them all in time; I swear on Daisy. If you don’t see your link here, or if it doesn’t click through properly email me and I’ll set down my bottle glass of wine and fix it.

http://www.transplanta.com
http://www.mattlogelin.com
http://doniinthecity.blogspot.com
http://talesofmikkimoto.blogspot.com
http://www.glossyveneer.com
http://www.jillwillrun.com
http://thealmostrightword.net
http://www.heavyonthecaffeine.com
http://baby-specialist.com
http://singlemomslife.wordpress.com/
http://www.blumaxx.blogspot.com/
http://www.dropping50.com
http://calicobebop.blogspot.com
http://zeghsy.blogspot.com
http://breathingmoss.wordpress.com
http://blog.calanan.com/
http://TwentyFourAtHeart.typepad.com
http://seriouslyash.blogspot.com
http://www.jessibellam.blogspot.com
http://thewablog.com.
http://knaphrodesiac.blogspot.com
http://myfuckingeye.com
http://amasktohidebehind.blogspot.com
(more…)