Sorry this is short and has no pics...

Hello everyone. So nothing entirely earth-shattering has occured during my first week in Dallas, but I have learned a few things that you might find insightful, and perhaps even amusing. Here's a list:

-Deep Ellum does exist, for I have been lost in its depths with a U-Haul still attached to my Jeep.

-The main DART station also exists downtown. I randomly came across it while driving around in The Big D.

-I am now required to hate every other city in Texas, which isn't very hard to do when all the other cities I've been to in Texas pretty much suck. Austin is for HIPPIES! ;o)

-You can be in a really posh neighborhood and then the slums in a matter of one block (or by crossing to the east side of Highway 75 down here).

-There really is a Starbucks on every corner. Seriously.

-Gay men love to go walking together on the Katy Trail about one block west of my apartment, but so do a lot of other people, including Mexicans who look like barrels without shirts on and their obese ladyfriends sans bras.

-I never knew how much I used a microwave until I didn’t have one… speaking of which, I should go buy one today, but I looked for a Wal-Mart near here and the closest Supercenter is on the other side of downtown by railroad tracks and that scares me a little.

-Living with my family in close quarters for more than two days is entirely unacceptable.

-You are a total loser who should be quaratined in some sort of a concentration camp if you don't have a TollTag. I fall into this category.

-Miami Vice is probably one of the worst movies I've ever seen, but it has some cool pink mist shots and really awesome cars, boats, and airplanes.

Hello, Goodbye.

As Friday nears, I am bidding my farewells to Ruidoso... fortunately I pretty much hate everything about it save for a few people, the mild summers, my former days of snowboarding for free, and The Links at Sierra Blanca (no, I don't golf there, I yog around the course).

My bon voyage sort of started when Jeff and I got our apartment in Dallas because I immediately packed everything I could (that wasn't already packed) and started counting down the days until July 22. It pretty much ended Sunday morning when I was having a yomit session after partying with Evelyn and Jason, and a few select Ruidosoans. I'll blog about that later on Eve and Wheels, I think.

Anyways, tomorrow I'll be in the LC having my hair dyed by the famous Alex, who has moved to another salon (if anyone's interested) that doesn't have a grody English sheepdog sauntering around in it (can dogs saunter?). At least I hope it doesn't have a big, shaggy dog roaming around... I hated that dog.

I'll also be dining at Si Senor, and taking pictures of my burritos and probably sending said pictures to Colonel McAdoo. Mwa ha ha ha ha. Maybe Amanda, too... she loved the Si Senor like a native New Mexican.

My mom is also going to the Big LC with me and is apparently going to get a new phone at Sprint, so I may or may not be changing my phone number... I don't know if I can part with my beloved Las Cruces/505 number quite yet. I'll keep you all updated, of course. Not that any of you call me unless you have to ask questions about anatomy, sloths, or what to do if a centipede crawls out of your drain. I like to think that if any of you were ever on Who Wants to be a Millionaire (or whatever it's called), I'd be your lifeline because I pretty much know everything that you don't need to know, which is not valued by society in any way, shape, or form, but helps me beat people at trivia. :o)

So, bub-bye 505 and chel-lo again to Tejas. I shall return in October for Homecoming and more burritos, and possibly another hair-dyeing, depending on whether or not I can find someone in Dallas who does colors other than bleached blonde. ;o) Scary.

It's also scary that I can probably sing the entire song Hello, Goodbye by The Beatles... also the title of this fair blog entry. Jeff, you are SO going to miss me singing the soundtrack from Fiddler on the Roof (but so are Eddie and Donica) for like two weeks until you get to Dallas, but fret not, for then you can hear me sing all the time. LOL! Sucker.

All I want is some Subway.

Here is your list of fast food places to eat at in Ruidoso: McDonald's, Sonic, Taco Bell, Schlotzsky's, Mr. Burger (not that fast), Burger Trolley (not that fast, either)... um, yeah. That's about it. Oh, and Subway, which is consistently inconsistent in every aspect of their business practice.

There used to be two Subways here, as well as a Burger King and an Arby's. I can't get flame-broiled goodness here, or the joy of an overly-processed roast beef sandwich doused in fake cheese sauce. I should have moved the second Arby's closed, but I hardly ever go there and didn't know they'd shut their doors forever until a few months after the fact. I can, however, "eat fresh" at Subway and make sure Jared and Jon Lovitz get a paycheck this month. Or so I thought.

Last week I wanted Subway when my mom and I went to Wal-Mart (which I failed to mention also has a Subway in it, but I'm scared to eat at it). So, we drove past the normal Subway and the parking lot was packed. Forget it... we'll just check out the next Subway down the road at Funtrackers, where I went go-carting not too long ago. Nope. It's closed, and Subway executives failed to send me the memo.

Now when I do actually drive the 17 miles to Subway, I can expect to find ridiculously rude employees who are obviously working paycheck to paycheck and crack hit to crack hit, and make it apparent that they hate me for even considering visiting their fine sandwich shop. I can usually assume they have only about three of the normal 15 chip varieties other Subways in real towns have. The same goes for the soda machine. In addition, your friendly Ruidoso Subway will be out of at least half of the breads other Subways have. Normally they have three day old Honey Wheat at all times, so they got that goin' for 'em.

But here's the zinger: Today I made the arduous drive almost all the way to the Downs, pulled into the Subway parking lot, only to find one of the employees standing in the doorway telling something to this other lady who was parked as well. Rather than waste my precious energy and get out of the car, I merely roll down my passenger side window to hear what news this disgruntled sandwich artist had for me... "We're out of bread."

WHAT? As Eddie would say, "Are you SERIOUS?" Why the f*ck are you even open, you dim-witted meth addict? Did you think I came to Subway for the SOUP or the shredded iceberg lettuce salads?? Don't insult me. Just close.

Here is my other question: How does a sandwich shop run out of bread, especially when they make the bread at said shop? You would think that when they notice the bread supply is running low, they'd throw a couple more frozen slabs of dough into the ol' oven, right? Or, hey... we're low on dough - do you think we should order some more? No, don't be foolish... let's go take another hit off the crack pipe.

I hate this town, you guys. Trying to explain the hate would be futile. I can feel my blood pressure rise when I think about going anywhere here. If I make it through the next ten days, it will truly be an amazing feat.

The only thing that would make me happy right now is if Jared himself would come to Ruidoso, fire the crackheads, and then make me a sandwich. For free.

Die, white zinfandel, DIE!!!!!

"A good starting point when discussing bad wine is White Zinfandel, or as it is known in certain circles of connoisseurs, 'the Pink Scourge'." -John Weidman

There is no way I can explain my hatred for white zinfandel. It's a "wine", it's a putrid shade of pink, and it tastes like watered down Arbor Mist, sans the light carbonatory (new word) properties, with a touch of rubbing alcohol added. It's repulsive and no one should ever drink it.

I am by no means a wine snob. Set out two unlabeled bottles of red wine in front of me and I probably couldn't tell you which was a cabernet and which was a merlot. What irritates me largely are people who are just like me (don't know shit about the vino), but act like they are editor in chief of Wine Spectator, when really this person has had exorbitant amounts of various wines from boxes or Gallo jugs, and watched Sideways (that movie can die right along with white zin).

Why this angry diatribe about wine, Sarah, you may ask? Well, my friends, let me tell you a quasi-tale of Le Bistro and a shower of Texans that has invaded this quaint mountain town for the Fourth of July holiday...

We have two wines by the glass at Le Bistro. The restaurant is way too small to compensate for anything more than that. The selection varies from merlot and chardonnay, to red bordeaux and sauvignon blanc, to valpolicella and pinot grigio. You never know what great surprise Jeff and I have in store for you when you ask what wines we have by the glass. It's really quite exciting (insert sarcasm for that last comment)...

And let's not forget that we don't have a wine list at Le Bistro. Richard keeps it real and is usually bringing new and interesting wines every few weeks, so a list is just a waste of time. I made one two summers ago and it just ended up being a list to pacify customers, while we never had half of what was on it. What we do have is an attractive display inside with the many wines we have available by the bottle. To me, this is not a big deal. I would never walk into a family-owned restaurant and expect it to run like Olive Garden. To me, when you walk into a place like Le Bistro, you want to try something different.

Back to the Texans. The men and the women of the Texas love the Coors Light and the white zinfandel, respectively. Personally, I truly believe they do not know that any other beers or wines exist (besides pinot noir because of fucking Sideways), and while I am always true to my Miller Lite, I'm also up to try new alcoholic beverages (as long as they don't contain tequila or any of the Malibu varieties). The Texes are not. We usually have Coors Light in stock, but never, ever, ever white zin. During the summer Richard will buy a case or two of Rosé, which is his personal stash (except for when Jeff and I drink two bottles of it like we did Friday night). So, we don't have a pink wine for the hicks, and oftentimes they become quite irate. Such as was the case this evening.

Long story longer, I had a four top of two middle-aged couples who seemed pissed off from the beginning. I gave them my usual spiel, which is pretty much the following script: "We don't keep a wine list because the owner likes to change the wines often, but they are on display if you would like to look them over, or I can suggest something for you." Pretty polite and articulate, if you ask me. Well, Fatty-Bo-Batty's Fatty Wife at table P6 tonight wanted a blush, even though I had already explained in English that we have one red and one white wine by the glass. To this she tersely retorted, "I guess I'll just have a Diet Coke." I'm thinking, "Yeah, lady... order the Diet Coke because that's going to solve your weight problem." But Fatty-Bo is mad that his portly Yellow Rose can't have her pink drink, and this is my fault because I'm obviously the owner, chef, and person who orders what we keep in stock. Obviously.

As I am leaving to retrieve their beverages, Richard walked up, doing his owner-thing and just asking people how it's going, blah, blah, blah. Fatty-Bo-Batty starts immediately bitching about the lack of a wine list. Two years ago, this would have warranted a "Take your fuck out of here!" from Richard, but it was a slow winter, and we all need the money. So Fatty's friend follows Richard inside to peruse the selection, and is still being rude...

At this point, I'm crying because I can't deal with the rudeness for another hour. Eddie is threatening to kick them out, and I'm sheepishly asking Jeff if he'll take them. Jeff is not pleased. Not to mention that by the time their food came out, it was discovered I failed to write down how Fatty's buddy wanted his ribeye cooked (which happened to be medium well, so of course it was very apparent these people were classless to start with)... it was a big disaster and this is my public thank you to Geoffrey for stopping my crying by taking that group of nasties (I know you read my blog, Geoff, so you better start commenting).

This is also my public plea to anyone and everyone to stop drinking white zinfandel. I know I don't have to worry about Amanda (because she's well on her way to editor in chief of Wine Spectator) or the Colonel (because I doubt he'd drink wine, let alone pink wine), but I am really worried about everyone else in this world. Take the intiative. Paul Giamatti's most famous line from Sideways was, "I will not drink any fucking Merlot!" If they would have just replaced "Merlot" with "White Zin" it would have been my favorite movie of all time. I will not drink any fucking white zin...

"It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" is the new "Arrested Development"

So there are approximately three people I can think of who actually watched Arrested Development religiously. One of them is me, one is Amanda, and the other one is no longer with us. Unfortunately since we were the only three loyal viewers of pretty much the funniest television series to grace the small screen, it was cancelled. A little bird told me AD might be picked up by Showtime, but it hasn't happened yet to my knowledge.

Fortunately there is hope in a show that debuted tonight on FX called It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. It appears to be a show about a brother and sister, their two mischievous friends, and all the shenanigans they get into. I'm watching it tonight and I have never laughed at people in wheelchairs, racial slurs, flaming bags of poop, and Danny DeVito so much in my life. An added bonus is that FX has managed to skirt around FCC profanity regulations because they definitely say "shit", and they use it abundantly (I'm easily amused). Of course you already know about the "S Bomb" if you watch another one of my favorite shows on FX, Rescue Me. Must have something to do with Safe Harbor shizz (I'm trying to think back to the late Dr. Pasternack's Media Law class with Maud, but even though we both got As, I can't remember all that garbage).

Try not to think I'm callous about the wheelchair thing. You'd have to watch it to fathom the hilarity. It has to do with running over your best friend with your SUV, strippers, and faking polio for sympathy at a shopping mall (followed by a wheelchair duel in said mall). I love it. They also do a MAD redintion of Extreme's "More Than Words".

If you're not sold at this juncture, our senses of humor are obviously disparate, and for that there is no remedy. For those lackluster individuals, I recommend reruns of Friends (which, relatedly, IASP mocked the "fountain" scene in one of their show promos... cops are involved and I couldn't be happier!).

Countdown to D-Town

If you couldn't tell by my sermons on my trips to Dallas, I was impressed with the city and everything that comes with living in a ginormous metroplex. In Ruidoso, I can't overnight a package from the Post Office (I know this because I needed to overnight my final paper for my last class at Tech and they were unable to process my request). I can't go out to eat because I know that besides the restaurant I work at, everything sucks and will not only probably make me sick, but is most likely to have body hair of some sort in it. If I want something dry cleaned, I need to be prepared to wait at least a week to get it back, and that's for one item.

Well, my helpmate Jeff (not to be confused with the famed Colonel McAdoo), has been trying to escape the wiles of Ruidoso ever since I met him in 2003. After returning from my first excursion to Dallas, I suggested that Dallas would be a great place to escape (read: move) to. He initially scoffed at my suggestion, claiming the Spurs were going to win the NBA championship, and that meant he'd be moving to Austin, since he made a deal with himself, equating where he would move to who was the best in professional basketball. Well, shortly after I returned the first time, Dallas booted the Spurs, so Austin was out. I immediately text him, saying he was going to have to move to Dallas, but he also had Hawaii in mind, should any team from a shitty city win, like the Pistons. I explained in simple terms that he was far too pretentious to attempt to live as a surf bum in Hawaii. He agreed and started looking for an apartment in Dallas. And yes, this was just an opportunity to post a gratuitous picture of Dirk and his hair.

We had some stipulations for the apartment. On his friends' suggestion, we looked in Uptown. I had to be able to take my doggie, Willie, because he's cool and doesn't like having to wait a month to get groomed in the Dizzle. The apartment had to have two separate bathrooms, and bedrooms on opposite sides of the space, for obvious reasons... when Jeff brings the ladies home, I really don't need or want to hear what's going on over there. You know, which video game they're playing or whatever.

So I think one day while Jeffrey was at work, I narrowed the search down and he picked Post Square. Selling points: Dry cleaners in the ground floor of the building, along with a smoothie shop, and a Starbucks. I guess I need to start drinking coffee again because I can't live three floors above a Starbucks and not spend half of my money there on fancy, caffeinated drinks. I'm going to be like Tweek on South Park... anyways, here's a pic:

Here's another of what I understood to be the main entrance when I saw it:

Here's the floorplan, if anyone's interested:

Tentative move-in date is July 22, although I'd love to move in sooner. I'm sort of going between just getting the eff out of here on the 21st, taking the fam for a weekend in Dallas (full of fun-filled activities like moving furniture and extended periods of time in a vehicle together), OR working that last weekend and then moving Sunday or Monday (still with the fam, of course). I'm leaning more towards just leaving ASAP...

No, I dont have a job yet. Yes, I am looking. And I tried to put one of those cool countdowns on here, but none of them would work. :o(

These are a few of my favorite things...

Out of sheer boredom comes a comprehensive list of things I highly enjoy and loathe presently. Not to worry, it does not include raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens. Or warm woolen mittens for that matter.

In television I love:

Fuse. If you don't have it, get it. Unless you're gay and you still watch all that crap on MTV. Those of you who know me, know how I feel about MTV. It can go to hell and die.

The 4400. I watched it religiously on Amanda's TV in Lubbock and I will continue to do so here in the Dizzle. Long live Tom Baldwin, Kyle Baldwin and Shawn. May they be seen in their underpants frequently (but not together, please) on the show.

In TV I hate:

MTV. We have already covered this.

Reality TV. Especially the talent competition ones (besides Top Chef, but that's over).

In music I love:

Pretty much anything where the band sings all whiny and screamy. I love it and I can't get enough. Is that genre called screamo (as opposed to emo)?

In music I hate:

Lil' John and all the beepy rap songs he keeps putting out. Since when did the beep on my mom's answering machine (circa 1989) become a musical instrument? Stop. You were cool when you hung out with Usher. Thanks for bringing crunk to light, now it's time for a nap.

The bands who keep trying to make videos that look like Stanley Kubrick films, or bands who make themselves up to look like Alexander de Large doppelgangers from A Clockwork Orange.

In cereal I love:

Lucky Charms. I had forgotten how delicious they are... magically delicious. My renewed love for the Charms is recent. I hadn't eaten them since I lived in the Zeta house and we had the generic kind that came in a bag. The real thing pretty much has a 50/50 cereal bits to marshmallow ratio. Really, it's a little more 'mallow than I like, but what the hey. I can't knock the marshmallow goodness. What I especially appreciate is how the cereal turns the milk a manufactured shade of grey. Grey = Magic.

In cereal I hate:

Anything that doesn't have "sugar" listed in the first two ingredients. And anything that claims it's good for my "heart".

Topics to discuss at work I love:

Passive-aggressive. I like to call Le Bistro "Passive-Aggressive Island". I think everyone is a little passive-aggressive. It's the modern way to avoid direct conflict with another (or yourself), but still make them think about what's wrong with them.

Shtarnsh, Eddie, and the new sweaty kid.

I don't think there is much I won't talk about at work...

People I'd love to party with:

Probably that sloth from the Dallas World Aquarium. I bet he's a wicked good time. I'd like to have a drinking contest with him.

People I'd hate to party with:

Charles Barkley and any magic Christians.

What I hate about Ruidoso:

The Texans driving around at 15 miles per hour, up the road to my house. This really makes me angry because I like to drive about 35 mph on the same road. It's fun! But when I get to see the looks on their faces, I see fear. It's my belief that they believe they are lost in Brady Canyon and cannot find their way out. Ever. Then I laugh.

What I love about Ruidoso:

The same thing. It gives me the opportunity to drive like a stock car driver and yell obscenities at people I'll never see again.

Stuntastic!

Another fabulous weekend in Dallas, kids. Good times, good Miller Lites, great heckling... about to be continued here. Friday night we traveled from Addison to the Greenville area. I'm not quite sure if we were in Upper or Lower Greenville because we drove around so much, which I could tell Ratheen really enjoyed. We ended up at a place called M Street, which apparently brings out everyone's inner gay with its house music, candles, and velvet booths. I wasn't such a big fan (primarily because of the bad music and warm beer), but I think Phil and Ratheen really got into it, which you can see by this picture:

I think it's great that you two are out there and proud. The way you two stare into each other's eyes is so touching. You probably can stop the mom jokes now... we all know what you're trying to cover. ;o) Here's a fairly heterosexual picture for any of you who are feeling uncomfortable (I don't know about that look on Jeff's face, though...):

I decided I should pose for a pic with Phil's blouse of the evening at the other bar we went to (not sure what it was called). It was pretty cool (and I am referring both to the bar and Phil's shirt). We hung out on the roof of said bar with an awesome view of Downtown. Here's a kick ass shot of Phil's striped shirt du jour:

What Ratheen is doing is anyone's guess. I'm fairly certain it has something to do with Phil's nipple, though.

I also got to hang out with Badger and Rooki- I mean Michael from NMSU. Badger had fun reminiscing about "college". I know this because if the Pee Wee's Playhouse word of the night was "college", everyone would have been incessantly screaming at Badger's stories. Or Jeff saying, "That's classic Badger!" Here's Badger getting animated about something at M Street. I was too busy trying to find some ecstasy to make the house music more bearable to know what he was talking about.

So I found out I have a feature on my Kodak Photo Software that allows you to make a photo look like a cartoon. Or more specifically, the famed A-Ha video from the 80s, "Take On Me". So I decided to make Jeff look like a member of the band. Watch out for those guys with tools chasing you...

Take on me. Take on me. Take me oooon! Take on me. I'll beeee goonnneee, in a day or twoooooooooo!!!

Probably my favorite part of Friday night was eating at some taco place on Greenville Ave. It was like being in Mexico... delicious. The salsa was super hot. So hot that Ratheen and Phil were whining about it, and Jeff had the guy put like seventeen times the normal amount on his last burrito. The eating contests you have with yourself, I will never understand, Jeff.

Anyways, Saturday Jeff and I headed Downtown and after we drove around in a circle for about an hour, we ate at Hoffbrau Steaks. I ate the greatest hamburger of all time, called the Roadhouse Burger. I think it would have made Dalton proud. It had Dr. Pepper barbeque sauce on it, which may sound weird, but it was very tasty. I also had fried pickles for the first time, which is pretty much like eating fried salt... delicious and crunchy fried salt, dipped in ranch dressing, that is.

After we ate we walked over to the Dallas World Aquarium to check out the wildlife. It was an aquarium, but so much more. There were bats, spiders, poisonous frogs, snakes, sharks, monkeys, a SLOTH and his human companion... here's a picture I took of a dog:

There were also people fish and some "actors" dressed up in Mayan costumes, playing with those sticks that sound like rain. I saw a little more Mayan man-leg than I had expected to that day, but it's all good.

Saturday night included drinking big, stoopid beers at Logan's with Phil, his friend Brandon, and eventually Larry. What you need to know is that the giant mugs at Logan's are never clean and Phil's shirt was black. I finally got to eat some P'Eatzza that night. It was everything I hoped it would be and more.

Sunday... damn... I was drunk again on Sunday. I started at Bread Winners in Uptown with a frozen mimosa, which was incredible. Jeff had some entree named after Dirk Nowitzki, which I thought was great. I'm probably going to become BFF with Dirk when I move to Dallas and we'll have sleepovers and play Trivial Pursuit and tell each other secrets and trade hair styling tips. ;o)

So what is important about Sunday is we had to get to Humperdink's in Addison like six hours before the game to get a good seat, and of course we started drinking right away. It's also very important to note I beat Ratheen and Jeff twice at NTN Trivia and won the entire game once. A few other people showed up, including Baer, who I mentioned in my previous Dallas blogs. This time I was a little more coherent and realized he reminds me of the Scottish Soccer Hooligans from Saturday Night Live... like you never know when he might go postal.

What else from Sunday... oh, Neil should probably know that if he tries to steal my sunglasses next time I see him, I will defeat him with a karate chop or a C-walking contest. On that note, here's a picture of Larry from Sunday night:

So anyways, it was a great time. I left very early Monday morning, watched the sun come up at Dallas Love Field, flew into El Paso and drove to Las Cruces so I could eat some Si Senor and tell Jeff about it. I must enjoy good Mexican food while I still can!

Dumb and Dumber.

stu·pid ( P ) Pronunciation Key (stpd, sty-) adj. stu·pid·er, stu·pid·est
1. Slow to learn or understand; obtuse.
2. Tending to make poor decisions or careless mistakes.
3. Marked by a lack of intelligence or care; foolish or careless: a stupid mistake.
-From dictionary.com.

It has come to my attention (or rather been pointed out to me by certain individuals) that my I.Q. (high Q, or haiku) has taken a turn for the mildly retarded side after graduating about three weeks ago. I used to build sentences with words like "generalizeable", "socialization", and "academia". Now I say things like "dude", "whatever", and "mud butt" (is mud butt one word?). It's kind of like that book, Flowers for Algernon, where the guy gets really smart and then turns dumb. Except for there are no mice in my story.

I can no longer complete simple tasks like spell "warrior" correctly, or just grab one piece of paper to cover a table at the restaurant. I'll get two pieces even though I only need one. I have forgotten how to count. Currently, I employ a calculator for simple mathematical equations, although I can quickly determine, based on the price of someone's meal and the tip they left, what approximate percentage they left me.

My reading consists of Harry Potter and Cosmopolitan, while my television viewing includes cartoons like The Simpsons, Family Guy, Futurama, and Spongebob Squarepants. I used to watch a lot of A&E, I think... I went to the new X-Men movie the other day and I liked it. I LIKED IT. Grad school Sarah would have never even gone to that movie.

Formerly in my possession was Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, but I have apparently misplaced it. I wanted to read it, but now I am afraid that the ideas in the book may cause my feeble mind to implode, so I should probably just start the Harry Potter series over again and continue my quasi-intellectual conversations with Jeff and Donica about where all of the Horcruxes are located, whether or not Snape is good or evil, and who R.A.B. really is.

Amanda wanted to get her sense of humor back. I think I'm still pretty funny. I just don't wanna be dumb anymore...

Emotional Overload

Today I endured a bombardment of emotion. So much that I ended up shedding a tear or three on two seperate occasions. For the most part I can keep my emotions in check, unless I'm made victim of a surprise attack, which has really only happened three-ish times in my life (all three in the past six months... yesss).

Hey, guys, I know what you're thinking... premenstrual syndrome, right? Not so much. For one thing, I think PMS is just a huge conspiracy theory/hoax/excuse, and another: I am a person who believes in changing your attitude as much as you can when you notice it turns sour for no apparent reason. I believe you can apply the line, "Get over it. Go out with someone else," from Wayne's World to a plethora of life's situations. And for another thing, it's just not even PMS time.

Today I was strongly persuaded to finish a certain section of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince while I was at work. Yeah, a perk of working at Le Bistro is I can read sometimes, but reading this chapter while at work was not so much a good idea. Said chapter got me all misty-eyed, I text Amanda and she said she didn't know how I was controlling my behavior, I replied and said I'd had a lot of practice in the last five months.

Continuing with the chapter, it became even more depressing, and I was sitting next to Richard on the patio, nonchalantly turning away so he wouldn't notice me crying at work. I think (no, I know) the last and only time I cried there was when this broad told me I'd made her the worst cappucino of all time (even though I made it the same as all the others and have had no complaints), and Jeff just had to capitalize on the heckling opportunity. Of course he didn't think I'd start crying because that's very un-Sarah, but it happened.

So Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, more specifically the chapter titled "The Lightning Struck Tower", or chapter 27, or page 596, got me started.

Then I went to the new X-Men movie with Jeff and Caryn. *sigh* Dude, a movie about mutants totally got me all choked up. I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it, but there were two instances when I was seriously crying, and trying once again to conceal my asininity (yes, it's a real word because I said so and I have an advanced degree, which permits me to make up words on occasion). Stupid X-Men and their stupid sexy powers of love and destruction... GAWD!

So then (wait, actually this happened before the movie) Jeff and I went to the Coyote Cantina to have an after-work tottie (I had Coca-Cola) and see my mom, who was hanging out after having endured the wiles of my bitter grandmother in Roswell for four or five days. My mom pretty much immediately starts in on how the medical examiner who performed my brother's autopsy had to talk to my other brother, Josh, about what happened the night before Matt passed away. Josh was very upset, obviously, but managed to hide it from me yesterday and today while my mom was gone.

The mom, however, made it a point to tell me all about it, which in turn upset me. Josh didn't tell me about it because he knew it would upset me, I'm sure. The bar is not the place to discuss these matters, but whatever, it's sometimes the 90s. When we first got the results of the autopsy, my mom came to my bar when I was still working there and told me. Yeah, always a good idea... not. I changed the subject this evening as soon as I could by saying, "Hey guess what? Richard said 'style-life' instead of 'lifestyle' today." "Ha ha ha ha ha..."

You know, a couple of people have tried to talk to me about Matt when I've been drinking, they've been drinking, or both. It's really just not a cool idea, for future reference. I'll talk about it when I want to, but if I'm out, having a Miller Lite, chances are I came out to have fun and not talk about the devastating circumstances surrounding January 6.

The flipping point is that all the sad deaths in the books and movies I read and watch remind me of my brother sometimes. Especially now as we're approaching five months without his physical presence. A lot of people took it upon themselves to ask me what happened to him in the days and weeks afterwards, and I really took offense. First of all, who's business was it, and secondly, why the eff does it matter? What matters is he's gone. Now that we "know" what happened, I think most people probably asked because they just didn't know what to say, and could not fathom why a perfectly healthy 21-year-old would randomly die in his sleep. We don't know why, literally and figuratively. It's a medical anomaly. Pehaps a heart arrhythmia, they say. And by "they", I mean the medical examiners (plural).

Sorry if this ruined anyone's moment, but don't worry, the moment will come back to you. If you've gotten this far in this uber-long blog, take a few things away with you: Sarah is most definitely not a robot, she doesn't want to get philosophical when she drinks (unless it's about Anchorman or the cultural significance of Duck Tales), and she wants you to make sure she didn't spell warrior wrong. Don't you feel better already, great blog warrior reader?

Girls, girls, girls.

I am a girl. A female, chick, lady, woman, whatever. Sometimes I don't want to claim my species, though. We're hard to get along with, moody, conniving, panda jerks.

These thoughts have been coagulating in my mind in this manner:

1. My female counterparts known as my friends.
2. My friendship with my helpmate, Geoffrey.


So there are my friends who I love more than anything, and somehow manage to get along with all the time. I've had my small share of ex-BFFs, but we all know they were crazy-ass bitches. Anyways, why can't they get along? Why do they shut one person out, ignoring them, getting all butt-hurt about something stupid like a small difference of opinions? Am I only able to get along because I don't live in the same town as them? I don't think so... I never got into fights with anyone when I was living in the same house as them for two years. What's the effin' deal here? DRAMA.

Then there's my best male friend, Geoffrey (Jeffrey Wayne, if you will). We get in fights frequently. He's told me to go fuck myself more times than I can count, I've punched him in the kidneys so hard he's fallen to the ground, he's made me cry, I've called him at 4 a.m. when I thought I was going to die if I fell asleep... you get the idea. Anyways, I was thinking about our friendship and I wonder if that's how all guys are. Like they are total assholes to each other and then the next day it's all over with. I think if I talked to my girlfriends like I talk to him, they'd never speak to me again. With Jeff I can be like, "I hate those jeans. They look like they're from 1993. Why don't you just go ahead and tight roll them?" and instead of crying and being mad, he'd say something like, "As if you look any better. Did you even take a shower today? You stink like yesterday's trash. Let's go get me some new jeans."

So why can't all girls be the same way? Quit focusing on the stupid, petty things and get over it. Stop holding a grudge just to prove whatever your stupid point is. Have you ever thought YOU'RE not that easy to get along with, either? Maybe to someone you are the center of the universe, and chances are you think you're the center of the universe. But when you get fifteen chicks together who are all thinking the same thing, shit's bound to hit the proverbial fan.

I know I can never have the kind of relationship with my girlfriends that I do with Geoffrey. They don't want me telling them their jeans look stupid, and I don't want to hear that from them, either (I don't think). But I guess that's ok. Sometimes I like everything to be sugar-coated. BTW, those jeans at left are my favorite jeans. You really can't make fun of them because they're so f*cking cool.

THAT'S JUST STOOPID!

So continuing from the ROARANGE salsa... what I remember most distinctly was the unstoppable, unmatched heckling of how Jeff talks. For some reason either Phil or Ratheen brought up the fact that the colonel says "baby" kinda weird, especially when intoxicated. I suppose it becomes some sort of a growl that sounds a bit like "bey-be". This snowballed into Jeff's Greatest Hits such as "That's just STOOPID," and "We're at Logan's DRinking BIG, STOOPID beers." Here's Ratheen posing with one of said big, stoopid beers:

This may or may not have been around the time Ratheen talked to Evelyn while pretending to be Jeff. Evelyn had no clue that the person on the other end of the phone wasn't Sack saying, "THAT'S JUST STOOPID!!" Really we were all laughing so hard, tears were shed. I think maybe Jeff was crying for real, though. In my opinion, he wanted to turn the attention elsewhere, so he started making fun of Phil's "blouse", which was some sort of a pinkish hue. Here's a pic of Phil, his shirt, Liana, and Ratheen's hand in an obscene gesture:


Apparently is takes a real man to wear mauve... or so I'm told. I had to make fun of Phil for being a Comm Studies major at Texas Tech. We Mass Comm-ers constantly put down Comm Studies kids as "Mass Comm dropouts" because people who can't pass the Grammar, Spelling, and Punctuation exam go into Comm Studies... home of many an ignoranus, Olaniran, and Gay Josh Ray and his ill-fitting clothing. Phil, you should probably start lying about your schooling.

More heckling transpired when Phil tried to convince Ratheen that the two of them should double date with Liana and her cousin from Friday night. Where the dinner and dancing suggestion came from, I'm not sure, but making fun of Phil for wanting to double date turned into making fun of Jeff for how he said. "DINner and DANcing!" Oh, the things we find amusing never cease to amaze me.

Let's see... who else was made fun of? Oh yeah! The boys' friend, Greg! He has this hilarious laugh that is as indescribable as the bacon at The Original Pancake House. You have to hear it to believe it. BUT, I had enough impersonations from the guys that when Greg actually did start into hysterics, I almost peed because I was cracking up so bad. Here's Greg at Logan's with a big, stoopid Corona...

From Logan's we went to a house party somewhere. It was some dude's birthday party with an Asian theme, but really, I didn't see the theme besides a Chinese latern in the dining room that matched Phil's shirt. What really matters about this party is that we were pretty much asked to leave because Phil was impersonating Jeff and I guess some people found this "annoying" and "offensive". Namely the "roo toe" girl. I really don't want to explain the roo toe, but it has to do with camel toe so obnoxious that it looked like she had "a joey in there".

So from the party we arrived at a bar called The Londoner, I believe. I was totally pumped to have two shots bought for me by Jeff's friend Dana, whose boobs I felt Friday night for my breast augmentation research (it's serious stuff, y'all!).

Good times in the Big D! I'm going back soon! Warn the big, STOOPID Miller Lites...

This is incomplete because the Internet hates me.

Saturday morning I woke up with a mild hangover which was shortly remedied with a fantastic breakfast at The Original Pancake House. Thank God I ordered the eggs and bacon. I'll leave the description of said bacon up to Jeff in the comments section. I don't think I could do it justice. Now if we were talking about shoes or makeup... Anyways, the green chile and salsa there was probably the last thing I would ever eat besides lima beans and bugs, but whatever. The "Appetizing Meats" on the menu made up for their shortcomings where spicy condiments are concerned.

It was apparent early on in the day that we were not going to meet our 2 p.m. deadline to begin drinking at an inappropriate location (which was decided to be Olive Garden on Friday night), so we aimed for about 6-ish at Logan's (East). After breakfast I enjoyed some quality television at Jeff's, which included Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors. And warriers they were. I actually enjoyed the horror-turned-slapstick basis of the film. Probably the best part was the main character's hair (which I want mine to look like someday), and the fact that one of the female characters who burned herself
with cigarettes looked like the older brother from the Wonder Years:








Pretty crazy, huh? I think they are twins seperated at birth, but that would require an IMDB search I am not willing to do right now...

Well, we made it to Logan's sometime in the early evening and proceeded to drink big, stupid Miller Lites with Ratheen and Phil, got some sammiches, and stared with disgust at their excuse for salsa. It was a color I believe described by Jeff as "Rorange" (maybe there should be an apostrophe after the first "r"?).

I'll write more about Saturday later. Last night I pretty much had it finished and the Internet crapped out on me, so I'm a little frustrated...

Big Red, Baby Corn, and BOOYAKASHA: Friday in Dallas

So since Jaime cannot live without my blogs about my voyage to Dallas, here is Friday:

-Sleeping while Col. McAdoo went to a job interview... yesssss. I was still on a night schedule, but thank goodness I quit that job... read more on my MySpace blog!
-Lunch at Bennigans, which included a discussion about the different "positions" for The Game in Waiting... The Goat, The Batwing... we couldn't remember any others. Our waitress also had amnesia apparently (and kick ass cornrows).
-A trip to the Galleria and failure to find a proper outfit for the Colonial, and for some reason Jeff thought there might be a J. Crew at the ghetto mall (like the ones in TAFKAS) where a hip hop radio station's headquarters are.
-Continual quotes from Ali G... "WHY HE BE WEARIN' THA?"

-Taking a cab to Happy Hour. Jeff was planning ahead.
-Happy Hour and binge drinking at Chaucers, which included saki bombs and more Miller Lite. I also got to meet a bunch of the Colonel's friends, who were all fantastic individuals in my opinion. I really enjoyed everyone making fun of Ratheen for ordering chicken fried rice while drinking... and somehow there were raisins on the plate, which subsequently ended up on the sofa Jeff and I were seated at. I forgot my camera that night, but here's a pic of some shrimp and bacon fried rice for your viewing pleasure (don't worry, we'll chat more about bacon later)... -There was also Liana's cousin who has some crazy boyfriend who called her like 14 times in about three minutes. He was threatening to get his "black friends" to kick people's asses (I guess if they tried to hit on his shorty, which Phil proceeded to accomplish quite well). We'll discuss their impending double date of dinner and dancing with Ratheen and Liana in the next installment.

-I was continually heckled for not drinking enough, but I think I was just trying to hold back some of my surliness so as not to embarrass Jeff too much... hahaha, like that's even possible! I chugged more Miller Lite than any person should unless they want to end up with an impending case of psoriasis of the liver. I'm on my way...
-I'm about 47% certain that after the Mavericks' game Friday night we went to a bar called Duke's, which apparently Ratheen pronounces as "Deeyukes". So we're at Dukes, getting more shitty, which is always a good idea. I talked to Liana for a while, talked to Ratheen for a while, and met some guy named "Bear" who I was not supposed to make eye contact with because he is allegedly crazy. He seemed ok to me until he started trying to recruit me into his gang of biker ninjas who have spider monkey companions. That's not true... or is it? I wouldn't look directly into this monkey's eyes, either...

-There was some guy in a tux who was telling chicks he had been left at the alter so he could have a better chance at the punanny...

Anyways, I think that just about covers Friday night. It was just as fun as watching Ali G at the Colonel's Thursday night. I totally dig hanging out with that kid in Dallas, even though he doesn't want me to. :o)