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Dear Tim,

Last week marked the third anniversary of your death. And frankly, I’m still pissed off at you for choosing to leave. Sometimes I understand but mostly I’m just mad. Someday I hope that anger fades to forgiveness, but for now I still want to yell at you… only you’re not here to listen.

I still remember the first time I saw you, it was 1998 and you were interviewing for a chemist job. Your hair was way too long, your suit didn’t fit and you rode a bullet bike. I was positive we’d never be friends. And in a way we weren’t… we were family. I admired you more than I was ever willing to admit. I never told you how much you meant to me. I’m not so great with emotions: anger.. yes, tender shit, no. And now you’re gone and I wish I’d been able to tell you how much I cared about you. You and Alex are the older brothers I never had. Both of you loving me in your own weird ways.

Today, while driving home, I passed your street and was overwhelmed with emotion. I came home and cried, and then I threw up. I could almost hear you laughing at me for “having a girl stomach.” Remember how you always teased me for getting sick so easily, and then when I was really sick you were there for me every day. You called me every other day to check up on me. I never told you this, but I saw you driving past my house a couple times a week just to check in and make sure everything looked okay. Tim, you were always there for me. I hope someday I can forgive myself for not being there when you needed a friend.

I don’t know if there’s life after death, but wherever you are I hope you’re happy, and I hope there is beer. I’m going to drink a Corona for you. And I don’t even like Corona.

Love,
Sarah

No, not that pill.

I wish my life were a romantic comedy. Not for the romance, and certainly not for the comedy, but for the convenience.

Have you seen “Good Luck Chuck?” Don’t. The only redeeming quality is a visual of the well pantied Jessica Alba. Damn she’s hot–total girl crush here. In the movie she breaks her tooth and just her luck Dane Cook, her love interest, is a dentist.

I need this! I broke my tooth over the weekend and can’t get into a dentist until tomorrow morning. Why are there no sexy dentists lining up at my door? Where’s Dane Cook and his bad acne scars when you need him?

I have every single kind of engineer you could need in my family, but not one one damn dentist. Worthless. Luckily I do have a friend with chronic back pain and a never ending supply of painkillers. Dear friend, thank you for saving me from a very painful existence.

So many things in life make my insides curl: whipped cream, midget porn, blonde’s who insist on coloring the bottom layer of their hair black, watching Ben eat a pastrami burger while wearing pleated khaki pants, and now this bathroom graffiti.

Maddie showed up this morning with baked goods and giant latte for me. Rather than do anything productive we settled in on the couch and caught up on some TV. The worst part was my dog got Maddie cuddle time this week, not me! Bitches.

Ben: “I’m a card carrying member of the American Legion.”

Sarah: “Um… I don’t really know how to react to that.”

Ben: “I went again last night but they wanted me to have an old guy with me.”

Sarah: “You mean a vet?”

Ben: “Yeah, that. So I told them Dad had served in the military.”

Sarah: “But, Ben, Dad didn’t serve. You lied to the American Legion?!”

Ben: “Sorta. I felt okay about it because Dad would’ve served if he wasn’t diabetic.”

Sarah: “So you’re telling me you shouldn’t be punished just because Dad didn’t serve in the military?”

Ben: “Exactly!!”

Sarah: “You do realize Dad will be drafted now, right? The one time I used a family member as an excuse they died.”

Ben: “You killed Chad? No wonder I don’t get letters anymore.”

Sarah: “No, Ben, this isn’t a laughing matter. I killed Grandma. I used her as an excuse once and she died a month later. I’m the bitch who killed my own grandmother.”

Ben: “You’re not a bitch, you’re just insane. You didn’t kill Grandma and Dad isn’t going to be drafted. Stop drinking so much coffee.”

To read this week’s dating column go here!

It got worse. A few miles later I saw one that said, “Eight kids, all girls, 120 pairs of shoes.”

And another couple of miles, “Two toddlers, twins on the way and 1/2 ton of laundry.”

If I lived in Utah County rather than going out and buying whatever these slogans are offering, I’d go home and shoot myself.

Seriously.

A hundred and twenty pairs of shoes aren’t nearly enough to be shared between eight people.

Google called me a slut. No, really.

Four readers found me yesterday by googling “online flirting.” And today two people found me by searching “sex with sarahbellum.”

I’ll have you know, Google, there is no man in my bed these days.

Ben: “I figured out what tattoo to get if I ever decide to get one.”

Sarah: “Hitler in Chinese?”

Ben: “NO! I’m not letting Hitler anywhere near me. I want a banjo tattoo.”

Sarah: “Ben, you do realize tattoos are permanent, right?”

Ben: “Duh. Anyway, I want the banjo to start on my stomach and wrap across my ribs and have it end on my back.”

Sarah: “No.”

Ben: “What about on my leg?”

Sarah: “No.”

Ben: “Fine, I’ll go with my second choice. On my back I want a poker table scene with Fidel Castro playing poker with Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash.”

Sarah: “Is Willie going to be playing a banjo?”

Ben: “Of course, but if I ever get rid of the mullet I’ll have to get it removed.”

Sarah: “I’m hanging up now and going to sleep. Don’t call me back. Ever.”

1) When you wake up with a migraine always, ALWAYS take medicine for it! Do not try to tough it out, this just results in being a mess when your entire day goes to shit.

2) Never break anything in your house on a Saturday night. Every boy you know will either be having sex and not answering the phone, drinking at the bar and can’t drive or they’ve abandoned you and moved to stupid San Diego. Also, brothers are always MIA during sister emergencies, proving they really are worthless and your parents should have made more girls.

2) Pink hammers are cute, but not intended for real work. They break easily and you’re left with a broken hammer, a broken lock, a broken spirit and no boys to be found.

3) When you need to pee while in Sandy at Target after drinking wine and coffee, do not decide to hold it until you get home (which is downtown). Because ultimately you’ll end up locked out of your bathroom and screaming at the lock to open. Which of course won’t, so you end up in tears, and still have no bathroom to clean the mascara off your face.

4) Never decide to stay home on a Saturday night. Always meet your friends at the bar when they text you, otherwise bad things happen.