Take your ass back to the Babysitter's Club

Like any good story, this one starts out with "So, there's this guy..."

In elementary school, I was devastated when he saw me fail every last one of the Presidential Physical Fitness tests. In middle school, I would have given all of my Green Day cds for a chance to couple skate with him at Jellybeans. In highschool, I defied the limits of my alcohol tolerance to try to get him alone at a party after prom (Still surprised that one didn't work. You should have seen the dress!). And yet, I never got to have The Moment that I so longingly wanted. When I found out we were to attend the same college the next year, I decided to lay low and wait for The Moment to present itself to me. Naturally, after a few weeks, his status and authority as "hottest guy EVER" was given to others. I hardly saw him, as we both found our niches and they did not intersect. Still, when I would see him on campus, I was reminded of my loss. And last weekend when I saw him at a party, I was double-reminded. He looked fantastic. The right shoes (It.Is.Important), the right body language (Comfortable, relaxed, open), the right drink in his hand (Stella), and after I made my move and began conversation, we talked about all the right things (Anything of sentimental value that brought back good memories, anything BUT our majors, how classes are going, etc.). After a few good solid minutes of healthy flirting, I saw a figure approach. As she came closer, I realized that she, too, had on the right shoes (Boots with a low heel, as this was a house party, not a club), had the right body language (gesturing towards him with palms open), and was carrying the right drink (Stella. One of his, I gathered). She looked familiar. I quickly placed her. Front row, hard class, always has something smart to say. As she joined in on the conversation that was rightfully mine, I discovered that she had substance. She was not intimidated by my presence, but rather, she made a pointed effort to include me in conversation (Again, it was mine to begin with, but whatever). Soon, the body language became too much to ignore, and I counted 3 instances of upper arm touches, 5 bats of the eyelashes, and her  knees were angled towards his the entire time. Classic. I asked how the two know each other, and got the answer I expected. "We met in the dorms freshman year. We've been dating since then." How sweet. I wanted to hate her, to find something to make fun of her for, but I couldn't. She was pretty, with the right amount of makeup and hair swept back off of her face, which showed her earrings, which accentuated her outfit, which was all very nice indeed. She swigged the last drop of her Stella, and noticing that our boyfriend was also holding an empty bottle, offered to get another for him. She turned towards the kitchen, and I saw it. It. The reason her hair was so prettily swept off of her face. She was wearing a scrunchie. Black velvet, with yellow polka dots. Not a subtle scrunchie, but a big one. Think Mariah Carey,  Salt 'n Pepa, 1996, Limited Too. She was flaunting that shit. Suddenly, my desire to hate her fizzled, and my mission was clear. I need to help her. And him. I judge her for wearing a scrunchie, and him for dating a girl who wears a scrunchie. My inner-self grinned. She may be smart, she may  be pretty, she may be dating my one true love, but she also voluntarily wears scrunchies. And because of that, I win.

You lying b*tch! That was NOT your last piece of gum!

And other things we lie about.

Today, my favorite scandalous friend told me, in detail, about her latest exploits. We've been friends for a long time, and she's lost the ability to surprise me. From a covert 3 year long relationship with an employer to to seduction of a man (boy?) half her age, nothing shocks me. This friend, let's call her Ava, has also given me some faulty advice throughout the years, but that's for a whole 'nother post. Today, I want to focus on something Ava said a long time ago, and has probably forgotten.

A:Well, I think I like him, but I don't know.
S: But what?
A: But nothing. everything you say before the word but is a lie.
That got me thinking. Since then, I've continuously conducted my own research into her "but" theory, and I've come to develop a list of things we lie about.

5. I'm going out of town, but I would (guilty!)
4. I'm already working 4 days this week and I can't take any more shifts, but otherwise I would
3. I left my wallet at home, but otherwise I totally would(so guilty!!)
2. I'm a virgin, but maybe next time?
1. Sorry, that was  my last piece of gum! But otherwise I would!

So, people, I have you allllllllllllllllllll figured out. I know what's really going on. And you aint foolin' no one with that "born again virgin" story.

The Lion, the Witch, and Your Unfortunate Wardrobe

I've seen you there before, Scrunchie Girl. It seems that we're always at the gym at the same time, and you're usually in some strange outfit. But you really outdid yourself today.  The first thing I noticed was that you were reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe while doing cardio. Next, I noticed your hair trying to escape from your ever-present scrunchie. Then I saw it. You were wearing jeggings. At the gym. There is a time and a place for jeggings, and we all know this. Going to the gym, however does not fall under the list of Times You Can Wear Your Jeggings. To make it easy for you, I will give you the actual list.

The List of Times You Can Wear Your Jeggings
by: Sarah

• When wearing boots
• When wearing flats (if you are tall and thin and the jeggings are disguised as actual jeans-otherwise no)
• When going out
• When going to class
• Generally, when going anywhere pants are required

So now that you have this list, I trust you will print it out and post it to your door, Scrunchie Girl. And not only your door, give a copy to the roommate who let you out of the house wearing jeggings, a scrunchie, fuzzy socks covering your ankles, and a Taylor Swift t-shirt to the gym. You wanna know why your face was so red? It's not because you were working particularly hard on that stairmaster. It was because your body was trapping heat from all that spandex and poly-blend faux denim!!

So wear your jeggings with caution and leave the scrunchies at home, or I will be making fun of you on the treadmill.

Don't let this be you.

Tall, hot stranger

Was in the post office again today (Damn you Nordstrom! Why must you always take so long!?) when I was accosted by a tall, hot stranger. Well, actually, I was not accosted and according to him, he is not a stranger. Read further.

Standing in line at the post office is about as fun as, well, standing in line at the post office. Therefore, the opportunity to indulge in something fun during my time there is always welcome. And as you know, the opportunity to feel like a celebrity is also just as welcome (if not more!). Read further.

The line was long. There were at least six people ahead of me and at least two of them were in stretch pants, which caused me to tilt my head to the side and contemplate the phenomenon that is stretch pants. Mid- thought, I felt a hand on the small of my back. I turned around instinctively, and let the image of this chiseled man behind me replace the image of stretch pants. Before I had time to assess the situation, he asked how I'm doing.
"Fantastic, and you?" I said. My usual response.
"Good, good" he said. Must be his usual response too.
"How's school going?" he followed.
"Oh, man. School is school!" I replied. I am an educated woman with great improvisational skills. Is "school is school" really the best response I could come up with? Ugh.
"Still dancing?" he asked.
Waaaaaaaaait. This is too specific. He must know me. Up until this point, I thought he had me confused with someone else, but couldn't make my brain and mouth connect enough to point this out. Now I was just hoping the expression on my face didn't betray me. I had no idea who this man was, but was happy to continue this conversation a little while longer. The line moved and we shuffled forward.
"Of course, and I have a few shows coming up" I said. "You should come."
AHH Sarah! Why why why? Now you've really done it.
"Yeah definitely", he said (also the usual response when I tell people to come see me dance. You know who you are.) "Send me the information on facebook."
I promised the hot stranger that I would facebook him the details and we continued to shuffle forward in line. The back of my neck was prickling and I started to feel flustered, but we'd gotten too far in the conversation for me to admit that I couldn't put a face with a name.
We hadn't said anything else by the time I reached the counter, and I couldn't think of anything to say as I turned to walk away. My plan was to saunter away casually, and hope that my nervous energy came off as confident and flirty (hey, that plan has yet to fail me). As I passed by, he said "See ya, Sarah", and waved.
I smiled without showing teeth (it makes your eyes look bigger. Use this move when you need a boost of sex appeal), and didn't return the wave. My trademark move. 
By the time I got to my car, I still hadn't made the connection between him and any part of my life. And as I write this, I'm still just as confused.

So, handsome stranger, if you are reading this, please make yourself known. And if not, well...a little mystery never hurt anyone. But don't be offended if you don't ever get that invite.

A little advice from yours truly.

Lingerie Obsessed, Pullitzer Prize Reading Alpha Female

I recently found a report card from first grade and read the remarks from teacher:
-seems to be easily distracted by boys
-good reader
-social leader

So some things haven't changed. Aside from my brief stint in middle school as science olympiad team captain, and a little while (okay, two years) in highschool as an obnoxious autograph giver (hands up if I offered you a copy of my headshot with an autograph and a lipstick kiss on the back), my 15 years or so since first grade has just made me a more amplified version of my 6 year old self.

But really, if you still want an autograph...you know where to find me.

The Thong Diaries

Was at the gym the other day, minding my own business on the elliptical, when who gets on the treadmill in front of me but Miss VPL herself. I'm not sure if I need to explain this acronym, or if anyone reads this blog besides Austin (thanks Austin, you've always been such a great supporter of all things S), but the VPL stands for Visible Panty Line. I put those words in caps because it is a situation that deserves the attention of capital letters. Speaking of situations that deserve capital letters, I have decided to compile a list of Things that are Painful to Watch.


Things that are Painful to Watch
by: Sarah

10. Anyone over the age of 15 admit to being obsessed with Justin Beiber or his affiliates
9. Youtube videos of ordinary people singing acoustic versions of top 40 hits (Alanis Morissette did it with My Humps and that was okay, because that was funny and no one had really done it before).
8. Boy in cardigans. Boys in cardigans and v-necks. Boys in cardigans, v-necks, and fedoras. Boys in cardigans, v-necks, fedoras, and skinny jeans. Boys in cardigans, v-necks, fedoras, skinny jeans, and keds. With a scarf tied around the neck. Almost covering up the knock-off wayfarers dangling from said v-neck.
7. Anyone try to convince me that "this bag is real!"
6. Girls rifle madly through the $3.99 bin at Victoria's Secret
5. A girl's hair straightened into submission, relentlessly trying to fight through the anti-frizz serum and hairspray, and unleashing little wispies around the forehead
4. Anyone get a tattoo of a quote by an author they've never actually read before
3.Guys walking around with a giant gold sticker visible under the brim of their hat (someone please explain this to me)

2. Anyone in velour. In public.Or ever.

 And the number one Most Painful Thing to Watch is, of course...

1. You, going about your business, fully unaware of your VPL!

shame on you.

betrayed by my own stilettos!

Things I learned last night:

5. there's always a way to avoid paying the cover
4. each roommate should carry a key so as to avoid yet another police escort home
3. you should avoid police escorts home whenever possible
2. also avoid sprial staircases while wearing 5'' stilettos
1. if he says he's gay, he probably is
0. if he says he's 35, he really means 50