The Woes of Being a Short Person…

This past weekend I went to a concert with my very tall friend, Reagan.  We went to see Morrissey at Terminal 5 in NYC.  One of the reasons I was so excited about this concert was that it was a small venue and standing room only, which meant a great view and an opportunity to get close to the stage.  So, why is Reagan’s height significant to this story you ask?  It’s simple.  She could see and I could not, because well, I’m short.

Sure the music was great, and Morrissey can still sing like he did in the 80’s, but I might as well have been listening to him on my iPod, because I couldn’t see a thing.  Nada.  Not even a little bit.  You know what I think is funny?  (You short people will hopefully identify, and appreciate this) All of the tallest men in the whole damn joint were somehow strategically placed in front of me!  Why, Why, Why does that always happen?

Throughout the concert, I became accustomed to watching other people’s faces around me for their reactions, because I couldn’t see anything myself.  Occasionally the crowd would “Ooooh” or “Ahhhhh” and I just had to assume something really cool was happening.  The most exciting part of the concert was when Morrissey sang the lyrics, “Close your eyes and think of someone you physically admire,” in his Bri-ish accent and followed it up with ripping his shirt off like He-Man.  The only reason I know this happened was because my tall friend who could see, turned to me and squealed, “Oh my God, Sar, he just ripped his shirt off!  That was crazy!”  I had to judge by her reaction of shock, then laughter, and then glee that she was thoroughly entertained by his antics, and that it was the highlight of her experience.  However, I did not see any of it.

At one point I blindly held my camera up in the air, set the zoom mode all the way up, and took a pretty decent picture.  In fact, I didn’t realize how good it was until I got home and saw for myself.  Geez, the lengths short people have to go to, to see what’s going on!

Not bad, huh? What can I say, I make the best of my circumstances.

On a side note, I left with a cool souvenir.  I bought myself a t-shirt with Morrissey in a barber’s chair, getting that signature ‘do of his.  How fitting for my profession!  Although I didn’t buy one, they were also selling tote bags that said “Shoplifters of the World Unite.”  Ha!  I thought that was quite cheeky and clever (forgive me for the British slang, but I’m going with a theme here…)

If I learned anything from this experience it’s that next time I go to see one of my favorite artists live, I will invest in some really, really good seats or skip the “standing room only” shenanigans all together, because it was kind of the pits.

Can any of you short people out there identify with this?

~The End

This Is Thirty.

A few months ago I asked Matt what he wanted for his 30th birthday and he promptly answered, “I want to go to Hawaii.”  I said, “You and me both, but that’s not gonna happen.”  We don’t have the time nor money to take another trip to Hawaii, so I decided to do the next best thing.  Bring Hawaii to Matt in the form of a surprise luau birthday party for this epic 30th occasion.

It all went down two Sunday’s ago at Matt’s parents house in Long Island.  It took place poolside where delicious Hawaiian grub was served, and the most amazing, authentic Hawaiian singer played renditions of Bob Marley, Jack Johnson, “IZ” Kaʻanoʻi Kamakawiwoʻole, Elvis, and an array of other Hawaiian tunes.

About three years ago when Matt and I got engaged, he had the ukulele version of the song “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” playing while he proposed.  He told me then that he wanted that song to play at every milestone in his life, so we also danced to it at our wedding, too.  He probably forgot that he told me that, but I didn’t.  The day of his party, I arranged for the singer to be playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” live when he walked into the surprise.

When we arrived at his parents house for the shindig, we could hear “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” faintly playing in the background.  Matt asked, “Do you hear music coming from somewhere?”  I said, “Yeah, I do, but I can’t hear what.”  I had to laugh, because it took him a while to actually hear what song it was.  As I led him to the backyard, where everyone was waiting, he was shocked to see all of his closest friends and family there to celebrate his birthday.

Matt may not have gotten to go all the way to Hawaii, but I’m pretty sure he was transported.  The next day and after it was all over, he declared, “I miss my party.  I wish I could do it all over again!”  <–Success!

The big reveal.

Mr. Palma

The twinsies.

The Palma’s.

The festive cake.

Sorry to all you Veggies out there.

Tiki torch

Poolside

Matt’s buddy, Brendan.

The wedding, I mean, birthday singer.

We’re silly.

Oh and Matt?  You might be 30, but don’t worry, you’ll always be my teenage dream.

~The End.

Leo, You Just Don’t Do It For Me Anymore….And Other Ways I Realized I Was Growing Up.

I was like any typical fifteen year old growing up in the late 1990’s.  I was in love with Leonardo DiCaprio.  Swoon.  I mean, wasn’t he just so dreamy in Romeo and Juliet, and forget about Titanic, um…to die for!
My walls were lined with posters of Leo like this one.

Oh, Leo, “you kiss by the book.”

Just when every teenage girl thought they couldn’t love Leo anymore, Titanic came out.  The combination of Jack and Rose’s courtship, highlighted with the haunting score of violins playing in the background as they stood together at the front of the boat intertwining hands was almost too much for any young girls heart.

C’mon, who doesn’t remember this scene?  It was epic.

I mean, could Leo be anymore dreamy than he already was.  Why, yes, yes he could, and he did it so well, didn’t he?

Back then, Leo was my go-to celeb crush, and it stayed that way well into my twenties.  I remember catching Titanic on TBS or some other cable channel, and having to stop whatever I was doing to experience Jack and Rose’s love affair one more time (and probably for the thousandth time.)

Recently I flipped the television on to find Leo’s face as none other than Jack Dawson staring back at me.  I got excited when I discovered that the movie had just started.  Matt was at work, my homework was done, and I had nothing else on my agenda but watching Titanic.

Fifteen minutes went by and I couldn’t help but have the following thoughts:

“Geez, Leo’s a bit scrawny, eh?”

“He looks like he’s about sixteen.”

“This movie is kind of corny.”

I continued to watch and willed myself to enjoy it, but I found that I was distracted.  I was checking my email, texting Matt, and going on Facebook.  Could it be…Was I over Leo?

After an hour of Titanic, I couldn’t deny it anymore.  I was not only over Leo, but I couldn’t understand how I was ever into him to begin with.  He was skinny and feminine, his hair was greasy, and he seemed immature to me now.

This could only mean one thing:  I had grown out of Leo.

And Leo isn’t the only thing I’ve grown out of.  As I approach thirty, I’ve been noticing other things that I’m over…

Journaling:

I used to live for jotting down my feelings in notebooks.  I haven’t done it in years, but recently when we moved into our new apartment, I came across a journal from about seven years ago.  There was a quote scribbled on the cover, and as I read it, I couldn’t help but feel that it was indulgent, childish, and dramatic.  As I held it in my hand, I cringed so much that I wanted to burn it or throw it away.  I never did get rid of it and instead tucked it away into a drawer, but not without looking up who coined the awful quote first.  When I googled it, I found that it was none other than the bratty Avril Lavigne.  Figures. I don’t have any intention of starting another journal anytime soon; I guess I’m just kind of over it, and that’s what my blog is for now.  I can only hope that a few years from now I don’t look back on this thing and cringe….

PDA:

So, I’m not talking about a little hand holding.  Holding hands is totally fine by me.  Matt and I hold hands all the time.  What I am talking about are the groping teenagers on the subway, sitting on their boyfriends laps and making out, as his hand creeps up the back of her shirt.  Gross.  Something has happened to me over the last few years.  Public displays of affection make me uncomfortable.  It used to not bother me at all, but now…well, it makes me want to look away or scream, “Where is your mother when you’re behaving that way?”

Loud Music:

I used to listen to my music really, really loud.  However, now I can’t stand to have music blaring loud.  I can’t concentrate.  I can’t think.  It makes me want to rip my hair out.  I also don’t like shopping at places where they play music too loud, because get this, I can’t shop properly!  Recently I went into Abercrombie and Fitch and between the screaming music, extremely strong perfume that they spray all over everything, and the dim lighting, I didn’t last but thirty seconds.  There is proof that my distaste for the store has everything to do with my age, because I loved that store something terrible not even ten years ago.

Pork:

So, you’re probably going, “Pork?!!  Huh???”  But yeah…pork.  This is perhaps the biggest sign of me being a real grown up.  When I was younger I used to loathe pork chops.  Like, with a passion.  When my mom would make it for dinner, she would have to make me a hot dog because I refused to eat it.  In the last two years, I’ve noticed my tastes in food changing; a little gorgonzola here (which I used to hate) a little goat cheese there (which I used to think tasted like feet, but now love), but perhaps the most shocking change has been pork.  Sometimes when I’m eating it, I’m like, “Who am I?” I used to vow to never ever eat pork, but here I am, eating pork and developing the palate of, well, an older and more adult-ish person.

~The End

Pictures by IMDB

My (humble) Advice for the First Year of Marriage…

Matt and I recently celebrated our first anniversary back in July, and since then I’ve gone back and forth about doing this post.  I’m no expert on marriage and I don’t pretend to be.  I mean, we’ve only been married for one year, but during the year I think that we’ve both learned a lot.  I’ve heard people often talk about the first year of marriage and how it’s the hardest and blah, blah, blah.  I’m not really sure if that’s true…I’ll have to let you know in ten or so years.  What I am sure about, is that marriage is a wild ride filled with twists and turns and highs and lows.

I don’t want to get too preachy in this post, so please keep in mind that these are simply things that I’ve learned.  No marriage is the same, and each relationship has its own dynamic.  What might ring true for us, might be completely different for another couple.  I can honestly say, though, that the following list are all things that I will genuinely take with me in the future.

5.  When in Doubt, Shut the Hell Up.

No, seriously.

I can’t tell you how much trouble I’ve gotten myself into just by running my mouth.  I’m the type of person that just has to say how I feel, even if that means regretting it later.  In the moment it feels good to get it all out there, but do you want to know what doesn’t feel good?  Wishing that you hadn’t said whatever it was afterward.  In fact, it feels terrible.

The point is, sometimes when you just shut the hell up, you realize later that whatever was compelling you to go on a rant, was probably something that would’ve blown over anyway.  So, is it worth it to say something that you might regret later just because you’re mad in the moment?  Probably not.  So, shut the hell up and wait for the storm to blow over.

4.  Do Not, May I Repeat, Do NOT Talk Smack.  Like, Ever.

Just say no to gossip.

Gossiping about your husband or wife to friends, family, strangers, etc. is not good.  Period.  Yes, you will eventually forgive your spouse (at least I hope so), and you will likely forget whatever you said, but do you want to know who won’t forget?  The person that you talked smack to!  Oh yes, that person will always remember, and most likely the gory details, too.

Be conscious of how you portray your loved one.  You should build them up in others eyes, and never put them down.  One of the things that I love most about my husband is that he brags about me.  How do I know this?  Whenever I meet someone new, they’ll ask about my blog, or school, and let me know in some way that he was talking about me in a positive light.  I do the same for him, too.  I’m constantly talking about how brilliant he is, and all of his accomplishments.  Matt- If you’re reading this, I think you’re awesome, and now everyone else knows, too.

3.  Live by the Mantra: Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner.

You tell ’em what’s up, Johnny.

Hey, remember when Patrick Swayze aka Johnny Castle tells a table full of people that nobody puts Baby in the corner?  Well, in a marriage, you can’t ever let anyone put your spouse in the corner…figuratively speaking.  You have to always have each others back no matter what.  You have to be each others greatest defender ’til the end of time.  Why?  Because you’re married and because you’re a team that sticks together through thick and thin.  Why else?  Because nobody puts Baby in the corner.  Period.  It’s that simple.

2.  You Don’t Have to Agree on Everything.

Hey, that’s one way of looking at it.

In a relationship, you’re not going to agree on everything.  Think about it, you’re two different people with different ideas and thoughts.  How could you possibly agree on everything?  It’s impossible.

Matt and I are alike in many ways, but we are very, very different too.  For instance, I like to go to bed early and get up early, and Matt is a night-owl.  I love trashy reality television, and Matt loves the news.  I like to listen to pop music on the radio, and Matt likes to listen to classic rock.  Matt doesn’t like to have stuff lying around the apartment, and I’ve been known to leave my sunglasses, purse, shoes, etc. anywhere that I put them down.  The list could go on, but you get the point.

Throughout our first year of marriage, though, I think that we have found a good way of dealing with our differences.  For example, when Matt’s around I’ll turn the Kardashian’s off, and when I come into the room Matt turns the news off.  Then, we find something on television that we can both agree on:  FOOD.  Because we can always agree on the food network.

I think early in our relationship, we used to try to convince each other more about things that we were passionate about as individuals.  After we got married, I think we both realized that it takes way too much energy to try and change the other person.  Now we just let one another be, and things are much more peaceful.

So, you can say tomato, and he can say tomahhhto, but isn’t it more fun to just say bloody mary?  Because who can’t agree on a bloody mary?

1.  Love to Give.

There was a moment during our wedding where my father-in-law was giving a toast and he said, “It’s not about how much you give, but how much you love to give.”  Even on that day, when there was so much going on around me, it made me stop and think, “Do I love to give?”

Anyone who has known a student in medical school is aware of how busy they can get.  Matt is no exception.  Most of the time, I am the one who takes care of all the household chores, amongst lots of other things, and it’s not always easy doing it on my own.  When he asks me, “Hey, can you iron this shirt?” or “Hey would you mind running to the store for me?” or “Can you take care of this phone call?” or “Can you run here or there?”  I ask myself, “Do I love to give?”  It’s easy to give when you have nothing else going on, but between my job, school, blog, chores, etc., it’s not always convenient.  But do I love to give?

In all honesty, yes.  Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I want to scream, “I don’t want to iron another freaking shirt!”  But for the most part, I can say wholeheartedly that I love to give.  Why is loving to give so important?  I’m not sure that I fully grasped it the first time I heard it in the speech, but after one year of marriage under my belt, I think it’s because when you love to give, you’re not doing it because you have to, or it’s expected of you, or you’re obligated to.  You’re doing it because you genuinely want to do something kind.  When you do something because you have to, it’s easy to become resentful, and when you become resentful it can create a whole host of other issues.

Next stop…the two year mark…and so on and so forth.

~The End.

Pictures by IMDB, Pinterest, and Anne Taintor.

I’ve Been Working on the Rewrite…

I just wanted to pop in to let you all know that I am working on the final edits of the young adult novel I started last year.  I mentioned I was writing a novel in my New Years Eve post back at the beginning of this year.  I am getting ready to query agents in about a week, so it has been crunch time.  Not to sound pretentious, but I had writers block for about two months straight.  There was a part in the plot that had to be re-written, but I couldn’t figure out the best way to bring it together.  It all started to work its way out once I got over the hump, so I’ve been writing every single chance I can get, which has meant no blog posts.  Sorry about that!  I PROMISE I have a post coming soon (I already started writing it) but I have to crank this novel out first.

Anyway, I thought I’d leave you with a song I have been listening to inspiration while I finish up my novel.  Gotta love Paul Simon.

Listen here to –> 04 Rewrite

Holy Sh*t! Airplane Manners, People!

It leaves you speechless alright, and sometimes not in a good way.

So, yesterday I flew back to New York after a week and a half with my family in Detroit.  The flight from NYC->DETROIT is typically a quick hour and a half flight, and relatively painless: key words being “relatively painless.”  Yesterday’s flight was anything but.

I seriously cannot believe the array of stupidity that I saw yesterday.  People have actually survived in life thus far being so completely unaware and clueless?!  The sh*t show of bad manners was ridiculous, both through normal airport protocol, and simple airplane etiquette.  C’mon these things we should all know by now, people!

First Offender:  The So-Called “I Didn’t Realize I Just Cut in Front of You…” Person:

By now, you have all probably had your own run-in with this type of person.  It’s the person who cuts in front of you, and pretends that they didn’t see you there.  This person might also pretend to be looking at something, than casually inch closer and closer, until they downright step in front of you.  It’s a sneaky little tactic, and most of the time these people get away with it, because the person they cut in front of, is too embarrassed to speak up and say something.

So, yesterday I didn’t have one, two, three, or four people cut in front of me.  I had FIVE!  Yes, you heard me right, FIVE.  It all started when a young woman with a giant suitcase cut in front of me while I was waiting in line to check into my flight.  It bugged me, but I didn’t say anything, because I was there very early and I decided to give the girl the benefit of the doubt.  I kept seeing her look over her shoulder as if she was waiting for someone, and I thought that was odd.  Suddenly a man and a woman, whom I’m guessing were her parents, joined her in line with two enormous suitcases in tow.  Before I even had the chance to process the stupidity of these people, two more young women joined the crew of three.  Each of these girls had enormously stuffed suitcases as well.  As the group stood there, loudly chatting about, I decided to say something.  “Excuse me,” I said trying to match their collective volume, “I was here first, and you…” It was no use, no one even noticed me talking.  They were so engrossed in conversation with each other that I didn’t even get a second glance.  I gave up, but it didn’t stop me from angrily brooding over it for the next twenty minutes, and posting multiple rants about it on Facebook and Twitter.

I watched on in horror as one after another stepped up to the check-in counter, and had to be told that each one of their bags were overweight.  They bitched and moaned about the additional charges of a bag over fifty pounds, and luckily the woman behind the counter  stood her ground.  The whole debacle added close to thirty extra minutes onto my schedule, and I was livid.

When it came time to go through security, I saw the party of five making their way in the same direction as me, so I hauled a** as fast as I could, and managed to successfully get in front of them.  A small victory for such an annoying fiasco.

Second Offender:  The Dreaded “I’m Going to Perform all of my Gross Rituals in Public…” Person:

Being a regular commuter in my daily life has taught be a lot about reading people while traveling.  For example, I can spot someone who wants to talk for the whole flight, and I’m good at predicting whether someone will be considerate.  The minute I saw this man approaching I just knew I was in for it.  I prayed he wasn’t going to be the one to occupy the seat next to me, but of course he was.  It’s always like that, isn’t it?  First of all, he stepped on my toe while getting to his seat, and also hit the woman in the head who was sitting behind us.  He never apologized to either of us.

It could have been an accident, so I chalked it up to an honest mistake.  That is, until he proceeded to get himself very comfortable, and one of the ways he accomplished that was by taking off his smelly sandals.  His feet reeked of vinegar, and everyone around us turned to see who was creating the stench.  If that wasn’t enough, he picked and prodded his smelly feet for at least a half hour, while I tried not to gag.

Eventually he passed out into a peaceful slumber, but he was the only one who found peace.  The rest of us had to listen on as he noisily snored, and I personally had to deal with his elbows as he slept with both of his arms up above his head.  Don’t even get me started on the offensive body odor that emanated from his pits.  When he finally awoke, he got up to use the restroom, and stayed in their for at least fifteen minutes.  When he finally resurfaced, I decided to use the bathroom as well.  It wasn’t a surprise to me, when I walked into the cramped space that he carelessly left the toilet seat up, and may or may not have urinated all over the bathroom floor.

The flight ended up being terribly delayed because of rain storms in New York, so we circled around for close to an hour, and until it was safe to land.  For the rest of the flight I tried my best to tune him and all of his bad manners.  I think I actually succeeded at it for a little bit, too, but by that time the flight was over anyhow.

I really thought I had seen it all between the subway in New York, and traveling on the Long Island Railroad.  However, yesterday it became obvious to me that there is clearly still a lot more to see.  Lucky me.

Does anyone else have any bad manner airport/airplane experiences to share?!  Is anyone else disgusted by how some people behave?

~The End

Photo by Pinterest.

Dolly and Bunny in the City that Never Sleeps…

Last weekend was a BFF extravaganza.  My husband went away to Montauk for his brother’s bachelor party, so I stayed at home in Brooklyn and had a little party of my own with my friend Reagan.  There is something about my friendship with Reagan that makes both of us revert back to grade school giggling, where we laugh until we can’t breathe at just about nothing.  Do you have any friends like that?  You know, the kind that make you laugh so hard you pee?  Reagan is that friend for me.  We’ve been friends for a long time, and have been with each other through some pretty tough stuff, but we’ve always managed to laugh and that’s what I love most about our friendship.  Laughter is what makes our relationship so special.

Me and Reagan aka Dolly and Bunny

When I was young my grandma used to tell me stories about her friend, who was nicknamed Babe, and all of the shenanigans that the two of them got into.  I loved those stories, and I could always picture Babe and what she must have looked like, with her strawberry blond hair in banana curls and red lipstick.  Usually the stories all had a similar theme with Babe being the more adventurous one, and my Grandma, whose name was also Sarah, following her lead and getting into trouble.  I’m not sure if my Grandma had a nickname, too, if she did, she never told me.  Sometimes I like to imagine that she did, and what it might have been.  About a year ago, I told Reagan the story about my grandma and her friend Babe, and she decided we needed ‘old lady nicknames,’ too, for when we tell stories someday.  Thus, the nicknames Dolly and Bunny were coined.

This past weekend was filled plenty of Dolly and Bunny stories and tons of hilarious antics.  What if I told you we saw a psychic, took in an awesome Off-Broadway show, visited Reagan’s daughter named Piper Jane, and sang Kumbaya with Woody Harrelson?  Would you believe me?  And yes, that last one is true.

Our weekend was quite eventful.  On Saturday, we saw an Off-Broadway show in Soho.  Reagan’s friend Jen is a really talented lighting designer for numerous Broadway shows, and highly recommended a musical she recently worked on called Triassic Parq.  It’s a hilarious parody about Jurassic Park from the dinosaurs points of view, and I’ve got to tell you, I felt truly inspired by the fine arts after seeing it.

Triassic Parq

Reagan and I have talked about going to a psychic forever, but the timing has never been right.  After seeing Triassic Parq, we walked out of the theater and were just about to hail a taxi cab, when some crazy gypsy lady called out to us from her little shop.  We kept on walking until we both took one look at each other and said, “Should we go back and do it?”  We said, “What the hey,” and turned around and went for it.

Me getting my reading.  So…the gypsy lady told me I was going to have twins…BOYS!

A weekend with Reagan wouldn’t have been complete without a visit to Blythedale to see  her sweet daughter, Miss Piper Jane.

One of the happiest and silliest kids I know.

The Pip loves stories about pink fairy princesses.

Reagan and I being silly and trying to fit in Piper Jane’s super cute plaid blazer.

It really was a great rendition of Kumbaya.

So, why were Reagan and I hanging with Woody Harrelson?  Reagan’s friend Jen, the lighting designer, is working on a new play with him and she invited us to join the rest of the crew for a bite to eat after a rehearsal.  Woody was really nice, and as I mentioned before, we really did sing Kumbaya with him.  Yes, it was random, and I have no idea how or why that happened…but it did.

Last weekend is sure to go down in Dolly and Bunny history.  Just like my grandma’s friend Babe who was always getting her into mischief, Reagan certainly gets me into some monkey business, but I don’t mind.  It gives me plenty of material for many ‘old lady stories’ to tell in the future.

I used to wonder if I would ever have a friend like my grandma’s friend Babe.  I think life has a funny way of bringing people into your life that bring out something different in you that no one else does.  Maybe Reagan brings out my goofy side.  Maybe Babe brought out the silliness in my Grandma, and that’s why she had such fond memories about her.  All I know, is that I’m sure happy that I have a true friend, a Bunny, and that we laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.

~The End.

Photos by Broadway.com and moi.

Words With Trends.

***WARNING*** 

This post is a rant.

I have a confession.  Sometimes I get really, really annoyed with my generation.  I don’t mean to be a traitor or anything, but I can’t help myself.  In my daily life, as well as the internet on sites like Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest, I see the same trendy fads and phrases popping up nearly everywhere.  It’s like one day they’re not there, and then POOF, they’re EVERYWHERE.

So, I have to get this off of my chest…

I bring you…

My Top 5 Most Loathed Words With Trends:

1. Swag

As in, “He’s got killer swag.”

Oh, “swag”, I loathe you most of all.

Swag, swag, swag…Before ‘swag’ I never knew that I was capable of loathing a word so much.  I don’t know what it means, and to be honest with you, I really don’t care.  All that I really know is that I cringe every time someone uses it in reference to a virtue, and if I never heard the word muttered from any other human beings lips for the rest of my life, I would be a very happy girl.

2. Fingerstaches

Can we stop this? Please?

Can we talk about fingerstaches for a second?  I’d honestly like to know why, when, and where this mustache fetish started?  Not only is the term for this horrendous trend ridiculous, but I find the whole “let me hold up my finger with a fake mustache drawn on it” really sort of dumb.  I have actually seen people with a tattoo of this absurd fad, and I can’t help but think, “C’mon, seriously?!”  I mean, I get it, it was funny for about two seconds…wait, no it wasn’t.  It was never funny.  Ever.  So, can we all resolve to stop this mayhem?

3. Awesome Sauce

As in, “Dinner was totally awesome sauce!”

I’m cringing just reading this.

Oh…’awesome sauce,’ I really don’t like you.  This is one that didn’t bother me much in the beginning, but then I started hearing it, and then I started hearing it some more, and then I started hearing it so much, in reference to so many people, places, and things, that it made me want to rip my hair out.  Why can’t something just simply be awesome?  Try it.  It feels good to say something is just plain awesome.  It’s sincere.  It’s effective.  If I had the choice, I’d never hear ‘awesome sauce’ again, unless of course, it was in reference to a sauce that was actually awesome, like Frank’s RedHot, then it would be entirely acceptable.

4. Adorkable

As in, “She’s so super adorkable.”

The gal who inspired the craze.

I admire Zooey Deschanel.  She’s quirky, whimsical, and she’s also really, really smart.  She has marketed herself as the cute-dress wearing, 60’s inspired, unique actress who stars in the coolest independent films.  Plus, she has really great bangs, but that’s not the point.  The fact is, there is no other actress out there like her, and she did a great job at setting herself apart.  Genius.  You want to know what’s not genius?  The dumb stigma that someone labeled her with- “Adorkable.”  Yes, she is adorable, and she might even be a bit of a dork in her free time, but can we just call her what she really is?  A very smart business woman.

5. (Insert adjective and select a gender here) problems.

As in, “Being too short to see out of the peephole of your front door = Short girl problems.” (By the way, that happened to me.)

I blame you, Jersey Shore.

So, it all started with Jersey Shore, as most annoying sayings do.  Pauly D referred to Snookie and Co. as having “meatball problems” when bad fortune started to come their way.  That was it.  A mania was born.  Suddenly you couldn’t go on Facebook without someone lamenting about their, “short girl problems,” or “tall guy problems,” or “nerd girl problems,” and so on and so forth.  Everyone wanted in on the action, and it became, well, exhausting.  So, I have to ask, can we just keep all of our whatever guy/girl problems to ourselves?  Please?

~The End.

Pictures by Ghettoredhot, Pinterest, shortgirlprbs.tumblr.com

My Ode to Snoop Dogg (if he should ever read this)…

What’s that you say, Snoop?

Dear Snoop D-O-Double G,

I want to hereby thank you for preparing me with the knowledge of knowing what to do in  situations that involve the 5-0 (aka the cops). You see, the other day I took ride to CVS to pick up a prescription for my husband.  After completing my purchase, I exited the store, got into my car, and proceeded to pull out of my parking spot.  However, as I was doing so, I glanced down at the prescription I had just bought, and started second-guessing whether I had picked up the right one.  So, what does any good wife do?  She texts her hubby to make sure, of course!  As I was texting, though, a police car suddenly pulled up beside me, and I started to freak.  I’m no dummy; I know it’s against the law to be texting and driving, but the thing was, I wasn’t technically driving, so I wasn’t sure what to do.

Snoop Dogg, just like an angel from above, I heard your voice say to me, “When the pigs try to get at ya- Park it like it’s hot/ Park it like it’s hot/ Park it like it’s hot,” and I calmly pulled back into my parking spot and turned the ignition off.

And can I just tell you, Snoop Dogg, you were so right.  The police officers looked into my car at me, and I was like, “What?” because I knew there was nothing they could do about it.  I was in a parked vehicle, and I wasn’t breaking the law.

So, I just wanted to say thank you for indirectly providing me with the tools I needed on that fateful day, because to be completely honest with you, I had no idea that a song I listened to on repeat in my beaten down Ford Tempo back in 2004, would be so influential on my life.

So, thank you, Snoop Dogg.

Your fan,

Sarah Palma

~The End

Photo by fanpop.com

4 Awkward Things That Have Happened to me Lately…

1. Practically giving my client a shower at work the other day.

The experience should have been something like this.

Everyone can agree that when they go in to get a hair cut at a salon that the shampoo portion of their overall experience is essential, right?  It sets the stage and is sort of a foreshadowing of what the rest of the service will be like.  Well, the other day, I had a little mishap when shampooing my first client of the day.  The woman came in, swinging her bright orange purse, with an assertiveness that made me a little nervous.  She plopped down in the chair that sits in front of the shampoo bowl and told me exactly how she wanted her hair and then informed me that her main goal was to relax and “veg out for the next hour.”  I said okay, and proceeded to turn the water on, which was the part where, as if on cue, I lost control of the shampoo hose and accidentally sprayed her (and me) and the entire surrounding area around us.  The hose slipped out of my hand like it had a mind of its own.  The more I tried to catch it, the worse the water got all over the place.  I blurted out something frantic like, “I’m sorry there was conditioner all over it and it slipped out of my hand,” and braced myself for the reaming I was sure I was about to receive.  Luckily  she graciously forgave me as she dabbed her smeared mascara, and told me it was no big deal.  I was thankful, but I couldn’t help still feeling incredibly awkward after that.

2. Repeatedly getting stuck in awkward conversations with my landlord.

I have a hunch- the old lady cartoon dubbed “Maxine” could quite possibly have been based on my landlord.

Okay, so don’t get me wrong, I sort of love my old lady landlord who lives across the hall.  Sure, she is always popping out of her apartment and getting in the mix of whatever I’m doing, but she is incredibly entertaining.  She is great with one-liners, and she loves to counsel me on how to stay young.  Amongst her most quotable advice that I’ve already been given in the one short month we’ve lived in our apartment has been, “Eat chicken,” which she yelled out to me randomly one day as I was getting my mail in the foyer of our building.  Another one of her gems was, “Wait to have kids- kids complicate everything.” But probably my favorite words of wisdom so far was, “Eat corn- it keeps you regular so that you are not constipated.  Being constipated gives you wrinkles from clenching.

See the thing is, I never really know how to react to these haphazard statements, so I usually end up just smiling and nodding.  The one thing that I can be sure of, though, is that this landlord (who shall remain nameless) is certain to appear as a character in some of my writing in the future, because she is so fun, colorful, and wonderfully awkward.

3. Almost kicking the girl giving me a pedicure smack-dab in the face.

Picture this:  You have extremely ticklish feet and the girl giving you a pedicure is practically tickle torturing you with the nail filer.  It was stuff nightmares are made out of.  Trust me.  Last weekend I went in for a pedicure, and the girl who normally does my nails was busy.  I was in a hurry, so I took the first available nail technician.  I informed her that I was very ticklish feet and to bypass both the foot massage and heel filing part of the pedicure.  Well, I don’t think she understood me, and she must have thought I was telling her to simply do that part more gently, because she was being so delicate with my feet that after two straight minutes of her lightly scraping the heels of my feet with the foot filer, I couldn’t take it anymore and my foot sprang up involuntarily and came two inches from kicking her clean in the face.  I felt really bad and apologized a bunch of times.  However, even then I don’t think I got the message through, because she picked the torture device (foot filer) back up, and resumed lightly filing my feet.  Ugh.

4. Overhearing a TMI conversation.

Trust me honey, nobody wants to hear your convo.

I was oddly getting cell phone service on the subway the other day, when the train was stalled above ground for a few minutes.  There I sat, minding my own business and texting a friend, when a woman, around my age, had gotten on at the stop right before and sat down next to me.  Almost immediately, she decided to make the most out of the train delay and apparently call her gynecologist.  I am not going to get into the details about the personal matters she discussed, but let me just say that it involved, “unusually large blood clots,” “foul-smelling discharge,” and “dryness.”  For a moment I thought I might be on that show “What Would You Do?“, so I decided to not act too obviously disgusted, you know, in case I was getting ready for my big close up.  However, once I realized that this was for real, I couldn’t believe that someone would discuss such personal matters in public.

~The End.

Photos by donmilleris.com, and Pinterest.