I watched a movie today, one of those indie flicks where the ending makes you say, "Buh? Why did I watch this?" In the course of watching it, however, the flick brought up an issue that sometimes pops into my head.
When do you know that the person you are with is "the one"?
I've been with Phil for almost 15 years. We have been married for over 10 years. We met when I was 19, which now seems very, very young. At the time? I thought I was 119. He appeared quite suddenly in the midst of of several break-ups I had with two fellows. One, my high school boyfriend. The other, a long-term, off-and-on letter writing campaign that started as a boyfriend in the 4th grade. Neither turned out well. Smashingly awful, in fact. The effect of these break-ups was that I hated all men. I'd been jacked around and screwed with, and I just wasn't going to take it anymore. Suddenly I had standards. Suddenly, I had put my foot down.
Then Phil showed up.
In the movie, a fellow asks his father a question. "Was it an instant thing or a gradual realization that Mom was the one?"
Which is it, really? The father said that they were at a wedding. The wedded couple was, in the father's opinion, a collection of dolts. He casually mentioned to his girlfriend at the time, "They are idiots. If anyone should be married, it should be us." His girlfriend took it as a proposal, and it just grew from there. So, in this movie, I guess the answer is that there isn't an answer.
I asked Phil the same question about me. When was I "the one"?
He said it must have been gradual. I grew upon him like fungus on a shower. Yes, that's Phil version of love talk. The thing is, my answer wouldn't have been much different. There was no lightening in a bottle. No love at first sight. I just knew that when I saw this long-haired freak who started working at my job, that he was kind of cool and different. I began to park on the same side of the building that he did. I began to eat lunch outside where he did, near the smoking, old hacks and dried up military guys who had lost all hope. There we were, two young people courting outside of a nondescript building on the northwest side of San Antonio and just seeing how it would play out.
I even brought my friend Allison by one day to scope him out. We ate lunch on the back of my dad's Isuzu Trooper with the doors open. Phil walked over to his car to supposedly put his Tupperware away after eating his lunch. He said, "Hello, ladies. Are you having lunch out on the veranda?"
Veranda. The man said veranda. He totally, completely had me at veranda.
Was that the instant? Did I have visions of wedding dresses and babies in overalls? No. I just quietly and hopefully felt a spark. A jumpstart to a heart that had darkened considerably.
Not much later, Phil asked me out on a date. It was a day when my glasses had fallen apart at work, and my sister had to come by to deliver my old glasses. The old glasses that made me look like a leathery, old librarian who only shops at the dollar store. And still, Phil looked past that (or because of that), and asked me out that day. He melted my icy innards.
We laughed so hard on that first date. And the next day. And the next. And when he was kicked out of his living quarters, we still managed to chuckle. We drove across the country together, and still belly-laughed our way through the states. We had passionate, crazy, laugh-filled sex everywhere, and it never seemed like there should be an end to it.
So, when was he "the one"? He just was. I don't have an instant moment to point toward if Amos ever asks that question. Was it when we talked about ants? Was it when I said, "Parts is parts," and he laughed so hard? Was it when he said, "I'm not good with compliments, but you are fabulous"?
It was all. Love isn't like fairytales.
It's better.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
You're the one
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The longest and funniest zombie discussion ever
I'm reaching back into the archives again. Here is a crazy conversation that occurred Aug. 8, 2006 between my husband Phil Porter (comedian extraordinaire) and my goofy bosom chum, Amanda. Keep reading, as it just becomes one hilarious punchline after another. They are far too entertaining. They are, indeed, too sexy for IM.
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Sarah: I'm going to take a shower. Here's Phil if you need him.
Phil: Um, I'm not sure I'd be comfortable chatting with Amanda's corpse.
Amanda: Oh, it's okay. Just ignore my tongue hanging out of the side of my mouth and the foam coming from it.
Phil: Wait, are you the living dead?
Phil: Because I'm not going to let you eat my brain.
Amanda: The post-death flatulence stage has already passed, now I'm just convulsing.
Amanda: I don't eat smart brains. I prey on stupid people from MySpace. Why do you think I'm seeking out my old high school classmates?
Phil: I didn't realize zombies were so picky.
P: I thought it was just, "Brains! Brains! Brains!"
A: Smart brains are not tender and mushy like dumb brains. They're rough from over-use and tend to be bitter.
P: That makes sense.
P: In fact, it kind of makes too much sense.
P: Like you've thought about it before.
A: It really does. How do you think I figured out how smart brains taste? I ate some before, and now everything makes sense, but I have a bad taste in my mouth.
P: Did you stir fry it with some garlic?
P: Because garlic is delicious, but it certainly has a negative affect on your breath quality.
A: No, see. My brain is dumb, which is why the zombie who ate my brain chose me, of course. I didn't think of it.
P: Sadly enough, that makes perfect sense.
P: On that topic, have you seen "Sean of the Dead"? It's a very funny zombie movie.
A: I definitely don't want bad breath. I might scare people away, since just being a zombie trying to eat their brains won't do it.
A: No, I haven't.
P: I have a theory that if we ever did get into a Night of the Living Dead zombie type situation,
P: that would definitely erase our credit records.
P: Pretty much my biggest hope for financial security is some sort of flesh-eating humans.
A: Um, yeah. I think there's a clause in Fico or somewhere that your credit score resets if you're eaten by a zombie.
A: But it has to be on a Sunday after midnight pacific time.
P: Or an alien attack. That should do it, too.
P: So my entire future is based on either the Earth being attacked by UFOs
P: or people mutating into zombies.
A: What if the alien stole your credit card and went on a shopping spree?
P: I think the odds are on my side.
P: Damn those aliens!
P: I'm pretty sure in that case, I'm only responsible for like $50 of their charges, though.
A: Oh, then that makes it better.
P: Well, except that they charged the ingredients for their evil death ray on my card.
P: That would weigh heavily on my conscience.
A: But what if that was the $50 they spent to buy explosives and blow up the planet?
A: yeah, exactly.
P: But if they tried to buy their explosives and the card was rejected because there wasn't enough credit available.
P: I'd be the hero then.
A: And the president has been secretly viewing your credit charge history to see if you're a terrorist spy. A death ray charge would look suspicious. It's a good thing you had the foresight to spend unwisely all of these years. Your bad credit decisions have saved you from jail time.
P: Well, that's what I tell the government.
P: And the people who keep calling trying to get money.
A: "I'm just screwing up my own credit before someone else does!"
P: And the president, of course.
P: That's pretty clever, actually.
P: It's a pre-emptive strike against identity theft people.
A: lol
A: You could just pretend to be an identity thief when the bill collectors call.
P: I do try to talk with a Nigerian accent.
A: Hey, this is Bill. I stole Phil's identity to buy an Xbox and some beer. I gave it back to him now, but I'd like for you to relieve him of all liability for those charges.
P: Yeah, except I'd have to call myself Dr. Ngimbi or something.
A: Hey, this is Zortak from the planet Mentos. I bought butt plugs and a laser gun on Phil's account. If you don't release his obligation to pay these debts, I'll probe you.
P: Hang on, I need to go charge a bunch of crap I don't really need. For the sake of humanity.
P: I wonder what channel QVC is here.
P: Maybe I could get some Ron Popeil shit.
P: I could save the world by fighting off the aliens with the Salad Shooter.
A: Hi, this is Dr. Ngimbi from the pygmy tribe of clicky-clicky-click
A: HAHA, salad shooter.
P: LOL.
A: You know how those martians are afraid of vegetables.
P: Oh, yeah, Martians hate greens.
P: I think they like fried foods, though, but who doesn't?
P: I could burn the aliens with a George Foreman grill.
A: Take brussels sprouts, you lard-ridden alien!
A: *whoosh*
P: Eat broccoli, bastard!
A: Why don't you probe yourself with this asparagus, you disgusting pervert!
P: Hey, wait, why would someone from the planet Mentos be buying butt plugs?
P: That seems a bit unlikely.
A: Well, they want to drink Pepsi, but they want the explosion to shoot from their nostrils, not their asses.
A: It will be their secret weapon to take over our planet.
A: I just read your George Foreman comment, ahaha.
A: That would be pretty convenient. You could cook them on both sides without having to flip them. Genius.
P: Especially if the aliens are sort of gelatinous rather than bipedal or whatnot.
P: A gelatinous alien wouldn't last for more than a minute in the Foreman grill.
P: Although a hamburger turns out deliciously!
P: Actually, I've never eaten any Foreman Food, so I'm just guessing.
A: Well, maybe they will be mutant cows from Mars.
P: Wow, how weird would that be!
P: Although cows are kind of cute in their own way, so maybe that would be a nice way to be invaded.
P: A bunch of Martian cows standing in a field grazing wouldn't be all that horrifying.
A: I saw a cow shitting in a field when I was riding the bus once. It was the grossest thing ever. And we were travelling like 2 mph because it was a dirt road.
P: My uncle had a dairy farm, so I've been very close to shitting cows.
P: You kind of get used to it after a while.
A: What kind of life did you live? Poor thing. You're eating Cocoa Puffs, you look outside to see the beautiful day... "Oh, look! A rainbow. A shitting bow. Two dogs humping. A dead bird. Ah, nothing exciting."
A: A shitting bow?
A: lmao!
P: Shitting Bow was a famous native American warrior.
A: That would be a nice decoration for a gag gift.
A: HAHAHA.
A: Yeah, he flung shit at the enemies.
P: Thanks for the new plates. I especially enjoyed them being wrapped in a shitting bow.
P: You're thinking of the famous Chinese warrior: Hu Flung Poo.
A: "Haha, white man! Here is some shit from my papoose's deer-skinned diaper!"
A: HAHAHA Hu Flung Poo.
A: Hu flung poo. I don't know, who flung poo? No, Hu did!
P: Oh, yes, Hu definitely flung poo.
P: Also, my parents never bought us Cocoa Puffs.
A: I just cried a little from my laughter.
P: Somehow they thought letting us spend the summer scooping up cow pies was better.
P: Not for breakfast, though.
P: I hope I didn't give the wrong impression.
A: hahaha.
A: Well, you wouldn't fully appreciate the milk for your cereal until you scooped up the feces from the animal who provided you with that milk.
A: I hope you weren't breastfeed.
A: -d
A: or e.
P: Would you prefer that I had suckled at the teat of a cow?
P: Sort of like
P: And I didn't found
A: Well, unless you want to scoop up your mother's poo also, sure.
P: See, now that's just icky.
A: exactly.
A: I'm just going on your parents' child-rearing philosophy.
P: Although I guess if my mother was crapping in the barn, I would have cleaned up after her.
A: You said it. I didn't.
A: haha, maybe.
P: OK, so here's how you imagine my life:
P: I was raised on the teat of a cow.
P: My mother crapped in a barn, and I had to clean it up.
P: We were constantly fighting off alien and/or zombie attacks.
A: The same cow who was shitting in the field later, which is why it didn't bother you.
P: I've seen cows shit while they were being milked.
P: It's never safe to be around a cow's ass. That's my point.
A: Well, who's ass is it safe to be around, really?
A: whose, too.
P: Yeah, good point.
P: So stay away from zombies, aliens, and asses.
A: If I had the choice of an ass to stand behind, it would be the alien wearing the butt plug.
P: Wow, you've really planned ahead!
A: Well, you never know when you might find yourself in that situation.
A: A line of creatures, asses all facing you, holding hands like you're playing Red Rover. Only you have to choose which ass you have to run toward...
A: Your mother's, a cow's, an alien's, or a zombie's.
P: I'd pick the zombies.
P: I think brains would cause constipation.
A: Yeah, that might work. They took their last shit at death.
P: It also might be difficult to identify exactly which part of the alien is the ass.
A: Of course, their rotting ass flesh could be revolting.
P: Rotting ass flesh, you say.
A: I could pick my mother, though. I've smelled her farts for a lifetime, and they never killed me.
A: She did have her gall bladder removed, though. Hmm.
P: Lacking in gall does not necessarily mean lacking in stink.
P: Although she might not have the gall to fart in public.
A: No, on the contrary. It makes the stink worse.
A: Now, when she farts, it's like it had less time to warn her of its arrival, so she acts surprised.
A: I guess the gall bladder is a sensory organ.
A: "Hey, you're going to fart in 3.2 seconds. Prepare the sphincter!"
A: did I misspell that?
P: No, "that" is how "that" is spelled.
P: You were also correct on sphincter.
A: Whoa, thanks.
P: When in doubt, I recommend www.m-w.com.
A: My rotting zombie brain is lacking in spelling skills.
P: It's the dictionary!
A: Yeah, I try that. But I always forget the website address. Is it m-q.com? m-f.com? shit!
P: As a zombie, the odds of getting into a spelling bee are very slim, so that part of the brain tends to shut down.
P: m-f.com can only tell you how to spell dirty words.
A: I could eat the brains of the other contestants.
A: But that might disqualify me.
P: But it would let you absorb their spellng knowledge.
A: HAHAHA.
P: Sarah just came out of the shower.
P: She wants to know why you didn't go to bed yet.
A: spellng, that sucks.
A: Because Phil won't let me eat his brain.
P: Oh, well, Sarah says you should go to bed.
P: It would be too expensive for me to overnight my brain to
P: And three-day delivery would not maintain the freshness you desire.
A: She must have read our conversation, then. I do need sleep.
P: OK. You shuffle off to slumberland then.
A: Well, try not to use it much for now. I'll try to make a special trip to get it later on.
P: OK. I won't think too much this weekend.
A: I think Sarah is trying to get rid of me. I'm okay with that.
P: Actually, she's planning how to eat your brain.
A: I don't know that eating an already-dead zombie brain would be very good.
P: Except for creating new zombies maybe.
P: All right, well I'll let you shamble off to bed now.
A: is it just me, or does Sarah's picture on Yahoo look fuzzy?
P: It's just you. You've been huffing too much paint.
P: I'm going to sign off now so you can go to bed.
P: I think we're going to eat some brains then retire for the evening also.
A: alrighty.
P: G-night.
A: thanks for entertaining me, g-night!
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Things I may or may not have done
I'm borrowing this list from SJSFalter+ for today's ramblings. I have a real and GREAT concert to attend tonight, and I don't want to fuss over a blog when I could be making myself pretty and coming up with questions to throw into the pickle jar at Mike Doughty's Question Jar Show.
So, I give you 150 things I may or may not have done. Things in bold have been accomplished by yours truly.
01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain (and I turned around)
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula (no, but I watched Phil do it)
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said "I love you" and meant it (I've meant it every time.)
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg (lettuce - yes. Titanic variety - no.)
19. Slept under the stars (at first I read this as, "Slept under the stairs")
20. Changed a baby's diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb (no, but I can hear them screaming)
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and didn't care who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day (I couldn't help it; I was in England.)
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe (I had a backpack while in Europe, but I don't think it's the same thing)
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Taken a midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Played touch football
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theatre
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken (does this mean "never had your heart broken" or "in a relationship that hasn't ended"? Be specific, list makers!)
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on a television news program as an "expert" (interviewed at Natural Products Expo West for some show)
83. Gotten flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music (not in a studio, but as a young'n I would tape myself as I sang along to the radio)
87. Eaten shark
88. Kissed on the first date
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children (well, I'm raising a child)
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
98. Passed out cold
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication (published in scientific journals because I'm a great big nerd)
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Touched a stingray
110. Broken someone's heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a TV game show (ha, no. but I watched as Phil won Dots candy on a game show)
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery (not sure how to count my wisdom tooth removal nightmare)
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. States
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Touched a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad and The Odyssey
135. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146. Dyed your hair
147. Been a DJ
148. Shaved your head
149. Caused a car accident
150. Saved someone's life
If I counted right, I've done 80 out of 150 things. What about you?
The missed travel opportunities make me want to run out and catch a plane.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Memes of days gone by
I'm going through old bloggies that I posted in the last two years, give or take, on my Myspace blog. When I find something that amuses me, I will post it again here for you. This is a meme I did back in September that I find mildly amusing. Enjoy.
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I'm doing this because Lotus told me to do it. And when one is instructed to do something by Lotus, by God, you do it.
This is a collection of 10 random, cruel and/or unusual facts about me. I'm sure all of you could write 10,000 more unusual facts about me after reading my nonsense.
I'm supposed to tag 10 people to do this as well after I have completed it. Unfortunately, Lotus stole many of the people I would have tagged, because those are the people I know would have done it. So, I am forced to force 10 other people to complete this, despite the fact that I know they will not want to do it. I lack the energy to pick 10 people, so pick yourself if you find this interesting. By the power of Soapy, I command you!
Alrighty. Without further ado...
1. I save "used" paper towels. We don't buy napkins anymore. We buy those rolls of paper towels that come in smaller sheets you can tear off. Sometimes I am less messy than other times. So, instead of throwing away a perfectly good (or what seems to me) paper towel, I save it. I think this is driving Phil insane. My version of saving means that it sits on the couch in some manner until I use it in the future. I am a slob. I feel some amount of shame mixed with horror over my paper towel saving because in my former life I made fun of my mother for saving paper plates that had been used. She felt that if a mere sandwich and chips had touched the plates, then they were worth saving. I think if some kind of juice or sauce had soiled them, that was the only way she would dispose of them. How vulgar, I used to think. Now it is me who is vulgar, yet earth-friendly.
2. I am a genetic freak. While I was taking a lab course in genetics, I discovered that I am indeed a medical oddity. We were instructed to observe our various bodily features, specifically our fingerprints and earlobes. I have attached earlobes, which are less common than detached lobes. Not so weird, you say? Well, I haven't talked about the fingerprints yet. There are three main types of fingerprints. whorls, loops, and arches. This article may help you understand what I am talking about: geeky stuff about fingerprints. People are supposed to have a random mix of at least two or three of the kinds of fingerprints.
As I watched, all of my classmates typed their fingerprints as a random mix of whorls, loops, and arches. I kept looking at my fingers, and then at the chart, and then at my fingers, and then at my classmates, and then at my fingers, etc, etc. As it turns out, I have a freaky and consistent pattern of loop, whorl, loop, whorl, loop. Repeated on both hands. This, my friends, is not normal.
I went to parents' house soon after this freakish discovery. I demanded to see my parents' hands. My mom's hands were normal - a random mix. My dad's hands, however, were more freakish than mine. His fingerprints - every single finger - are ALL whorls. Now who's the circus freak, eh? Huh? Amos' hands are too small for me to investigate whether or not he has inherited this collection of oddities.
3. I talk to myself in the mirror - a lot. I replay conversations I've had with people, sometimes punctuated with even wittier things that I should have said. I create conversations that have never and perhaps will never exist. When I think I'm alone in the house, I'll even walk from room to room and have these conversations, complete with gestures and giggles that the other person should have. Phil has probably heard me do this, and again, probably thinks I'm insane. My guess is that I developed this quirk as a child who had to play by herself a great deal. I was called "motor mouth" by my mother, and I would hide in my room and talk to myself, since no one else apparently wanted to hear me. Now I use my blogs to blather on and on. Aren't you the lucky ones.
4. Some people know this, but not all. I was a metal chick. I had big hair in high school (yes, even bigger than what it normally does), and I went to a lot of concerts and shows. I was somewhat of a groupie, but I didn't sleep with musicians. People in my school thought I was a slut because I dated or had familiarity/friendships with various musicians, local and beyond. I was actually a devout virgin at the time.
Countless singers, drummers, bass guitarists, and whathaveyou were the focus of my desires. I was invited to "hang out" in the hotel room of Mark Slaughter and Dana Strum, the fellas from that cheesy metal band, Slaughter. I told them I didn't think my mother would appreciate that. I had a penpal/flirty thing going on with the keyboardist from a well-known, top 40 band. I swapped spit with lots of coverband musicians, some of which I will regret for the rest of my life. Some, not so much.
Observe:
5. Probably mentioned this many times before, but I am a bastard child. My parents met in Reno, Nevada after both of them went through nasty divorces. My dad went to a casino to beat up a guy who stole his silk shirt, but he couldn't find him. So, he sat down in the casino coffee shop for a nosh. He just happened to sit next to my mother, who was waiting for her cousin to get off work. She shared her pie with him. Ten months later (or so), I was born. They married two months after I was born.
I didn't find this out until I was 15, and I found out on my own as I snooped through some documents in their room. I was looking for my SAT scores from taking the SATs in the 7th grade (yes, I am a great big nerd who took the SATs in junior high), and I stumbled upon something called "Marriage Certificate." I thought, wow, I've never seen this before. Then I saw the date. It listed "1973" instead of "1972", as they had always told me. Eventually they admitted it to me. To this day, I sometimes shock my mother by trying to be funny and calling myself her bastard child.
My folks around the time they met, give or take a few years:
Dad with my siblings, Michelle and Jason.
Dad as a happy go-lucky, smoker-a-go-go.
Mom, caught in a rare moment of laughter.
The hottest woman in cat glasses.
6. I attended something like 9 different schools in three different states before the sixth grade. We moved around a lot because my father bopped around from job to job and probably has a raging case of ADHD. I did really well with the moving and making friends in new places. My siblings, however, did not. They were older and in junior high or high school, and they tended to not do so well in class. It was hard on my family as a whole. But... I find that it has made me a well-rounded individual with a yearning for travel and to see new things. Luckily, I married a man who is not tied down to his hometown and also enjoys the sights and sounds. I look forward to showing Amos that there is life beyond Denver.
This is me in the 2nd grade at the first school I attended. I believe this was our Easter pageant. Phil calls this picture "Sarah and the Pips." It is funny and very wrong for him to say that.
7. I am shy and introverted, and somewhat of a hermit. That is, until I get to know you. My shyness, coupled with my intelligence, makes a lot of people think of me as snooty in person. It pains me that people think that of me, but it's just how I am. Once you get to know me, I tend to go too far in the other direction. I am boisterous, loud, and I try to outwit everyone or be the funniest person in the room. I have a dry, biting wit that can make many people feel very uncomfortable and think that I am attacking them rather than just trying to be funny. I also bleed from the mouth. I don't censor what I am thinking, and I am always wanting to swallow my words. If you know all these things about me before diving head-first into a friendship with me, it's best for everyone involved.
Also, just about everything I write in my blogs, comments, or whatever, is written purely with tongue firmly planted in cheek. If it ever seems that I've said something to you that was just downright cruel, please don't take it that way. I am almost always joking. When am I not joking? Well, that's probably the part that makes it difficult to read me. Sorry. I don't mean to be an enigma.
8. I'm having one helluva time trying to come up with more than seven things. This is probably because I am far too truthful in my blogs and I tell you too many things about myself. Damn it. I need more secrets.
9. I am attracted to Jewish men. I developed this proclivity after I met Phil. I think it is an attraction born from seeing men who sort of look like Phil. Phil isn't Jewish, but so many people think that he is. This explains why I am hot for Zach Braff and Dave Attell. Yes, I get all blushy and flustered when I think of the squatty, gnome-like Dave Attell.
Ah, I should also add that I am attracted to FUNNY Jewish men. I am loathe to admit that I even find Rabbi Shmuly a tad attractive (the guy from "Shalom in the Home"). I laugh and laugh at the thought of saying, "Oye vey, Shmuly. You've shmucked my gefilte fish." Which probably makes absolutely no sense in Yiddish.
10. I was a sad and dark soul before I met Phil. I was the product of a sad family, and I went to a sad little school in a sad little town where I met sad people. I dated sad boys and made sad remarks, and I sat in sad little heaps in my sad clothes. Then, I met Phil. Everything changed after that. I discovered that I really like to laugh, and I really, really enjoy making others giggle. I am still somewhat sad sometimes, but it pales in comparison to the brighter, happier person I am now.
To give you some idea of how sad and dark I was, here is the description my friend Keith (who is one of the most astutely observant people I've ever met) made of me, when asked how he pictured me ten years after high school:
"Sarah will be living in a tiny apartment in New York City. She will wear nothing but black. She will be surrounded by huge piles of books in her tiny apartment. One day, one of those piles of books will fall over on her and kill her. No one will know about it for days. Many will mourn her passing."
Ha! I've shown you, Keith! Now, I will be killed by a huge, falling pile of slightly used paper towels. And many will laugh about it.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
I suck you
The Porter Three went shopping yesterday for the lil' man. We traveled to baby consignment shops to find clothing that Amos will wear for approximately two days until he grows out of the britches. It's shocking how fast little kids grow. One day, Amos is wearing pants that fit him and reach past his ankles. The next day, the pants have become capris. Or, as my friend Judy called them, manpris. Amos is so smashing in his manpris.
The most surprising thing to come out of our shopping experience: Phil went nuts over finding clothes for Amos. It is like Amos is Phil's little doll so that he can play dress-up. Someone should have given Phil a doll to play with when he was a boy of yay-high. I giggled and giggled as Phil would find a little outfit for Amos and then coo over "how cute" it is. Egad, people. I married a teenage girl.
I admit that I find dressing Amos to be equally endearing. Quite often, both of us will hover over his crib and declare him to be the most adorable baby ever, only to change him into something else so that he can be even more adorable than the most adorable baby ever. Sometimes we even struggle over which of us will dress Amos.
"Ugh! No, I'll do it."
"Get out of the way, woman! Don't you see that the boy needs these pumpkin socks to compliment that onesie?"
I suppose we are just expressing our undying love for our offspring. It's like the male bird who sits on the egg while the momma bird goes out to forage. Like the gray wolf or the lowly prairie vole, we have mated for life. This made me wonder... what animals do mate for life?
In my never-ending quest for more freaky biology facts, I stumbled upon this little factoid at WonderQuest:
"One species is absolutely monogamous. In the black darkness of the deep sea, the tiny male anglerfish (perhaps one tenth the female’s size) detects and follows the scent trail of a female of his own species. Once found, he bites his chosen one and hangs on. His skin fuses to hers, their bodies grow together (he gets his food through a common blood supply and becomes essentially a sperm producing organ). They mate for life — a short life for the male."
Hmm. This answers many questions for me. We had a fish tank for most of our time together. One of the longest living fish we had was a plecostomus, one of those creepy, algae-eating sucker fish. Every once in a while, Phil would turn to look at me, I'd look at him, and then he'd lean over and attach himself to my arm, my leg, whathaveyou, with his mouth and start sucking. He did so with such a creepy look on his face that I always yelled and pushed him off, saying, "Ewwww!" Because really, if the plecostomus ever attached itself to me, I'd say the same thing. Apparently, Phil puts this under the category of foreplay.
Now I understand. Phil was merely expressing his need to mate for life. He wanted to attach himself to me, allow our skin to fuse together, and then follow along behind me as I went about my day. How lovely that would have been as I dragged my conjoined twin around as I showered or made dinner or went to the ladies' room. That's love, people. That's real love. Oh, how I adore my sperm-producing organ.
In our quest for love, we discover that it's not very easy to find a match. Then, one day, a dame swims by and catches the fella's eye. He is caught. Ensnared by her charms. He MUST attach himself to her flank. They are one. Together forever in the black darkness of the deep sea. No one ever said that nature is kind.
Friday, November 16, 2007
More under the category "too much information"
Ding dang, people. I got tagged for this damn meme THREE times. Lotus, Bill, and Salty Miss Jill decided to tag me n' bag me. Cruel, cruel world! This is the longest friggin' meme in the history of man! Get a grip on the memes, people!
*shakes fists in the air*
Whew. Alright. Without further ado, more details about me you would rather not know.
Grumble, grumble...
8 things I'm passionate about:
1. Phil. After 14 years of togetherness and 10 years of marriage, he still makes my loins ache. We met when I was 19 (not a girl, yet still not a woman, or how do those lyrics go?) and he was a deliciously pervy old man of 23. We have one of the best marriages/relationships I've ever witnessed, and I am thankful everyday that I stumbled upon this bearded freak so many years ago. I look forward to growing old and cranky with him. Life just doesn't exist without him.
2. Amos. After two unsuccessful pregnancies, I tried to be nonchalant about Amos in those first weeks of him becoming a tiny person in my body. It didn't work. He kicked me when I least expected it, and he made me laugh before I ever saw his face. Now that I know him, I don't ever want to know life without him. Looking into the face of someone who is half of me and half of Phil is the greatest moment of my life, over and over.
3. Writing. I don't care what it is that I write, I just want to do it. It entertains me and soothes me to spew my thoughts onto paper or the virtual world. I am currently pursuing opportunities to write for dollars. If anyone knows of dollar-making opportunities involving words, please let me know (And no, I do not mean "Strip Tease Poetry Slam.")
4. My family. OH GOD, how predictable! Yes, I know. It's like I'm making an Oscar speech. "I'd like to thank my husband, my son, God, and my family for winning me this piece of plastic..." But seriously, folks. Can I call you "folks"? Let's get real. I came from a shitty family. Not so much that everyone was shitty or that every situation was shitty, but overall, the taste and feel of the meal was pretty darn shitty. I'll spare the details for now, but over time I've learned to love these people more and more, despite our differences. I am about as different from them as night versus day, but I ask you, does night not become day? Oh, there I go with the "thinking" questions...
5. Crafty things. "Oh, jeez. She's Martha Stewart." That's what my beloved friend Nancy said about me one day when she observed my mad skillz as a soapmaker and otherwise crafty mo'fo. I created my own company out of my passion for making natural soaps. My current insanity is based around knitting. I made a great deal of scarves one year for Christmas for Phil's family, and they all graciously smiled and wore them for one day, and then probably tucked them into the "donate to Goodwill" bin. Ah, but it was fun making them. I have a need to create things for Amos, so I'll do that soon. I even made my own purse, which looks like some sort of furry black thing. I call it My Pet.
6. Science. Despite the way I turned my back on it and ran for the hills, I still enjoy the world of science. Did you know that I was once a molecular biologist? Did you? Yeah. I was head-over-heels for splicing genes and creating dwarf plants. I worked in diabetes research for a few years and left before I became completely enslaved by my overlords, only to donate myself to an insane lab where I was the only woman amongst seven men studying plants. I learned a great deal in that span of time. It's strange to think that if I had stayed on that path, right now I would have my PhD and probably be on my way to being a tenured professor at some university with my own research lab. Life is funny.
7. Natural living. This is such a broad topic, but it stems from the days when I was very sick for years and sought help from health food stores, vitamins, etc. I learned about proper nutrition, organic foods, natural and raw foods, herbs, essential oils, and on and on and on. My interest in science and insatiable quest for knowledge fueled this journey. This is how I started my soap company, in a way. I'm very witchy and hippie-ish in some ways with my creepy knowledge of how to heal with natural things, but I am not a witch or a hippie. Why? Because I don't live in Salem, Massachusetts or Woodstock, New York. (But I did see Goody Smith dancing naked with the devil.)
8. Humor/Laughing. This should really be first. I live to laugh. I love to make other people laugh. Sometimes my jokes fall flat (see previous blog), but my intent is good. Laugh, people. It is good for the chicken soup soul.
8 things I want to do before I die:
1. Travel. (Oh, for Pete's sake! Stop being so predictable!) I don't care where, just take me there. I traveled a TON when I was a kid. Not because we were rich and sailing near the Riviera. No. We were vagabonds who moved around the country. It is in my blood. I am gypsy. Do not fear me. Here are my tears.
2. Write a book. It will happen. It WILL happen. (This friggin' meme feels like it's as long as a book... grumble, grumble...)
3. Meet Lotus and Amanda in person. It will happen. It WILL happen.
4. Watch Amos become a handsome, intelligent, giving, and humorous man. Basically, who his father is.
5. Have a basement-level, impressionist show off the strip in Las Vegas. I do the best (worst) impressions of Christopher Walken, William Shatner, George Takei, Kathryn Hepburn, and Arnold the Governator, along with many others. It's the best (worst) show you'll ever see in a basement.
6. Finish this meme. Sigh.
7. Enjoy some truly fine wines. I've had good wine, just not the best. Someday, I'll understand why people save bottles in their cellars for decades.
8. Forgive them.
8 things I say often:
1. "Ding dang" - It's a great replacement for cursing, and it makes me sound like a hick.
2. "Approximately a shitload" - when there is no other form of measurement to be found.
3. "While you're up, can you get me..." - some wine, some cheese, some water, some money, etc.
4. "Jump, Amos, Jump!" - He loves his Jumperoo.
5. "How much has he eaten?" - Will I ever stop saying this now that I'm a mother?
6. "What else?! What else?!" - This started when I worked at UT Austin. Sometimes I would get lunch at the Asian lunch cart on campus. I would order an egg roll, and the little woman would yell "What else!" So, I would order fried rice. "What else!" "Um, change, please." "What else!"
Now I use this phrase when we are making up grocery lists or whathaveyou. "I think we need toilet paper..." "What else!"
7. "Give me the burps!" - Said to Amos, sometimes to Phil.
8. "You are teets." - This started when we moved to Denver. Denver International Airport has a strange circus-like tent top to its structure. White, pointy caps that are supposed to represent the snowy Rocky Mountains. We joked that it looks like the pointy bra that Madonna wore, except made for dog teets (because it has many, many pointy white points). Somehow, this conversation degraded into bad Russian accents, resulting in Phil and I yelling at each other, "You are teets!"
Jeez. Some of our "in jokes" need a lot of explanation.
9. Honorable Mention: "Shitfist" - Sometimes, especially when I was pregnant, I would forget words. It is very frustrating to forget words. I would tell Phil, "And then there was a... um... the, uh... you know, the... oh, damn it." Which would then lead to me becoming angry with myself: "Oh, come on! You know! The shitfist thingy on the dealy. Just stop staring at me!" So, to sum up, "shitfist" is substituted for something you can't remember. "Get me a cup of shitfist." "I gave your mother the shitfist." "Get your feet off of the shitfist!"
8 Books I’ve read recently (or am still reading):
This is one of the reasons I delayed doing this blog. I was pregnant for approximately a shitload of months. During that time, I obsessed with all things baby. So, I read baby books. A LOT of baby books. This skews my otherwise snooty ability to devour a literary classic in two seconds. So, I give you 8 books I have read over some amount of time in the last centon.
1. The Girlfriends' Guide to Pregnancy. Amusing, but not much substance.
2. The Girlfriends' Guide to the First Year. Ditto.
3. Vogue Knitting. I still don't know how to make an I-knot.
4. The New Baby Book. Excellent resource. Thanks, Lois!
5. The New Natural Cat. My cat died despite this book. I should sue.
6. Touch and Feel Farm. It's not what you think, pervs.
7. Your Pregnancy, Week-by-Week. Almost as scary as What to Expect...
8. The Undaunted Garden. One of my favorite gardening books.
8 Songs I Could Listen to Over and Over (And do!)
Holy cow, this is hard. I'll refer to my resources...
1. "Melt with You" - Modern English
2. "Sweet Thing" - Van Morrison
3. "Do You Realize?" - The Flaming Lips
4. "Float On" - Modest Mouse
5. "God Only Knows" - The Beach Boys (Damn you, HBO's "Big Love"!)
6. "Three Is a Magic Number" - Blind Melon version (thank you, "School House Rock"!)
7. "Beans and Cornbread" - Louis Jordan
8. "Dirty Old Town" - The Pogues
8 Things that Attract Me to My Best Friends:
1. Sense of humor. Make me laugh. That's all I ask. Although, I'm jaded from years of watching comedians on stage, mind you. No pressure.
2. Keepin' it real. I don't dig on pretension and putting on airs. Be who you are. Don't tell me about all of your stocks and bonds or how political affiliations define you.
3. Clever, witty, cunning. Make me blush with your intelligence. Tell me something I don't know. Anything.
4. Ability to listen when I'm speaking. I can't even keep track of how many people I know who interrupt me when I speak. I just spent 15 minutes listening to you complain about your boss or your mom. I might have a few... but... wait... I... give up.
5. Appreciate your talents. Don't pretend that you aren't good at something. Don't brag about how great you are, either. If I'm already aware of how loved and admired you are in your field and how you sacrifice yourself so ENDLESSLY for everyone because you are the "only one" with answers, and I only heard this from you, then perhaps all is not what it seems.
6. Skip the passive-aggressive antics. Talk to me when there is something amiss. Don't beat around the bush. I'm not always aware of how you feel. You might be overreacting. I might be overreacting. Speaking to me with honesty and true feelings is what keeps me here with you. When I am overloaded with passive-aggressive actions from someone, I will walk away. It's not worth the aggravation, even if I love you. This is one thing that has been the catalyst for me leaving a friendship, even though I have been guilty of this behavior at times. (Hypocrisy, thy name is Sarah.)
7. Be open to change. Old dogs CAN learn new tricks. We are not set in stone. I'm still learning new things. Aren't you? Learn new things with me. We can both be better people for it.
8. Learn to be there for me, even when I tell you everything is okay. This is a hard one. I've never been good at telling people that I need them. It's something I'm trying to learn (see #7). I can do it with Phil, but it's like pulling teeth to get me to show my needs for other people. I am human. I bleed. So do you. We need each other. That's what friends are for (cue Dionne Warwick).
8 People I Think Should Do Crazy Eights:
Whoever the hell has the stamina to do it. Good grief.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Most inappropriate
I was challenged today by Jon Deal to write a post about a time when I said or did something very inappropriate. This is indeed a challenge, my friends. Not because I am low in examples, but because I am notorious for doing such things. However, lucky for all of us, I was able to narrow it down to one incident many years ago...
Phil and I are great friends with a comedian fellow who lives nearby, and we were starting to get to know his lovely wife. We were staying home for Christmas and had no one nearby to share our festivities, so we invited Comedian and Wife to our home for Christmas dinner.
Now, up to that point, we enjoyed a very silly, jokey relationship with Comedian. He was known in our circle as a practical joker, and I was known to throw a great deal of sass his way whenever we would interact. Comedian is also very generous with his time and volunteers to help out his friends whenever they need it. For instance, in October of that year, Comedian showed up to help me at an open house at my soap studio while Phil was out of town performing some comedy.
Comedian and I had quite a night of joking around and getting smashed on all of the leftover wine at my open house, as only a handful of people showed up to enjoy the free wine and cheese. He asked me, "So, are you and Phil thinking about having kids?"
I thought about it for a moment. "Well, maybe someday. I don't think either of us are mature enough for that just yet."
"Yeah. Me, too." Comedian looked at me seriously and seemed deep in thought. I was too drunk to care or to ask him the same question. We giggled some more through the night, and then we parted ways.
Fast forward to Christmas night:
Comedian and Wife arrive as we are finishing up dinner preparations. We gather in the kitchen to serve up the food.
"Would you like some roast beef? How much?" I ask them.
"I'll take the amount you have there, but Wife needs enough servings for two," Comedian said as he patted her belly.
So, me being me, I blurt out at Comedian, "Oh, yeah. Like YOU can breed."
I laugh to myself. I look up. No one is laughing. Everyone is staring at me.
I suddenly realized my stupidity. "Huh?" I said.
Phil said, "Really?"
Comedian and Wife nod their heads. Wife is staring at me like she is going to cry. I try to recover. "Haha. I mean, of course you can breed. I mean, obviously, there's the belly..."
Good job, Sarah.
We eat our food, engage in small banter, and I try to smooth things over with Wife. Oh. My. God. That was hard to do. I was eating my foot the whole night while the others dined on delicious roast beef. Also, Wife is allergic to cats, so of course she suffered mightily from the three cats in our house. I later realized that Wife must have gotten pregnant right around the time Comedian was asking me about kids at the open house.
Other things I have said to Wife that were very inappropriate:
At another party at our house: "You know what I think is cool about pregnancy? Babies are basically parasites. They burrow into the uterine lining and emit chemicals to prevent the mother from rejecting them. That is parasitic behavior. I'm sure when I have a kid, I'll be amused about my own little parasite..." And of course, she stared at me blankly.
(I was indeed amused by own little parasite when Amos came to be. I have a degree in biology, and my favorite thing to learn was stuff I call "freaky biology." I just assumed everyone else enjoyed facts like that as well.)
At Comedian Baby's first birthday party, I leaned toward the smiling child and said: "You know what, Comedian Baby? You are too cute. When you grow up, I'm going to be your Mrs. Robinson." I looked up to see Wife staring at me in horror.
Yeah, that's right. I just threatened to sleep with your one-year-old when he's 18. Isn't that funny? Heh. Heh?
So, my friends. As you can see, I can be pretty darn inappropriate. I have a somewhat crass sense of humor. In the above situations, I was even more crass given that Wife was married to one of the most crass people I know. I guess that doesn't always translate to understanding the crass sense of humor in someone you aren't married to.
Stay tuned for more inappropriate moments. They are sure to happen...
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Actual conversations, Part Two
"Hard to believe that Jon Bon Jovi has only screwed someone named Dorothea all these years."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, let's consult Metal Sludge."
Moments later...
"Says here, 'Back in the day Jon was a huge slut but he's chilled out a little. Jon has an average size cock and like a lot of guys prefers to receive oral than give it. He has good rhythm though and will even wear 2 condoms if you ask him to.'"
"That's bullshit."
"What do you mean?"
"Everyone knows that if you wear two condoms that friction works against you, and they are more likely to break."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Um. No. Where did you get this fact?"
"On the street."
"Which street and what decade?"
"I don't know. It's just a fact."
"Before you knew me?"
"It's just a fact. It's physics. Ask Stephen Hawking."
"Um. Okay."
In Stephen Hawking computer voice: "It is a fact that two condoms create enough friction to break the condoms."
"Well, then."