A New Look.

By tomorrow morning (God-willing) — this site of mine will have a little bit of a facelift. I’ve got a special gal comin’ over here to help a sister out. Krista is stopping by on her way back from Osh-Vegas to enjoy a girl’s night. And by girl’s night, I mean it’s just her and I….not a slew of us. Ha.

So, this morning, I’m getting the Nerds in a nice serving bowl (nothing but the best), the pillows fluffed, my pinkest nail polishes out… and the game Girl Talk (yeah, that’s right…from the early 90s) may or may not make an appearance.

I know. You’re jealous.

Shit Cracks me Up.

Ok, I don’t know much about this website (wordpress) just yet (that will soon change…muhaha) — but I think my favorite part is that you can see how people got to your site…google searches, if you will.

Here’s the top searches that led people to read me:

1: Wednesday’s the new Friday.

2: My friend doesn’t listen to what we have to say.

3: Peed minutes.

HAHA. I love people.

I’m Not Complaining…it’s Just….

Yeah, so. I’m doing it. I’m going to yelp about the humidity. Doesn’t it know that I like to straighten my hair for work…so, I don’t look lazy and un-put-together?! Seriously. I like the heat just like everyone else… but the second the dew point goes over 60, my hair is a wicked mess. Literally. It looks like I bent my head over and sprayed the sam-hell out of it with Aquanet…then, flipped my head back over. So unruly.

It’s annoying. I swear, my hair has 2 good months. Months when it isn’t frizzy from humidity… or static-y from there not being enough moisture in the air.

How annoying.

*Smack.*

I love sitting outside in the summer. I soak up the sun, the buzz of kids on summer break.. I even enjoy the humidity every once in a while. Hell, it’s better than hypothermia.

But what makes me shudder more than anything else: Mosquitoes.

Well, good thing it rained for 62 days straight (Noah, you out there? Where was that Ark?) and flooded everything, everywhere. The water is all dried up, but what was leftover…is what will haunt me all summer.

The blood-sucking bugs are seriously HUGE.

I really thought I had swatted at a fly the other night. Nope. Just a monster mosquito. Now, unless they’re taking HGH or bodybuilding behind my back… these are seriously the biggest ones I’ve ever seen. (I’d have them tested…)

I don’t do OFF. You know, that crappy smelly bug spray. So, Tuesday, I just danced. Danced for the BF’s entire softball game. I was the only fan in the stands. No wonder. I bet all the other fans knew it was buggy as hell out. Hey, thanks for telling me. A-holes. That dancing saved my skin. The mosquitoes don’t like things in motion. They feast on those thick arms and meaty calves. I get the shudders just thinking about it.

So, today, before another softball game… I’m walking (that’s right, it’s within hiking distance) to Walgreens. There, I hope to find some other bug spray that smells like flowers and candy and teddy bears.

I hope mosquitoes are allergic to tulips, Whoppers and polar bears.

No Embroidered Towels for You.

I’d like to say that I’m pretty domestic. I love to be in the kitchen: cooking, baking…eating. I don’t mind cleaning and I do a mean load of laundry (or 5, like yesterday.) But one thing I don’t do…I don’t sew. I’ve never really sewed. I remember getting “cross-stitch” projects from relatives for whatever birthday or Christmas. I also remember always starting them, but never finishing. So, I have half-done ballet slippers, farm scene and Mickey Mouse cross-stitches laying around somewhere at my Mom’s house.

Don’t get me wrong — I know how to sew buttons on shirts. And I can even do the occasional rip (I’ve seen a similar surgery done on Nip/Tuck…it’s the same principle, right?)

But when I realized that I now have a pair of pants, a pair of capris and two pair of jeans that could use some “sewing” work (repairing hems and holes) — I knew what needed to be done. I needed to get my hands on a sewing machine.
Good news, Mom’s got one that she never uses. (She’s smart, she takes it to a sewer…or drycleaner… or whoever can fix that kind of stuff).

So, she gives me this pretty-much brand new sewing machine. Sweet. I’m amped. Granted, the box collected a thin film of dust before I actually took it OUT of the box…but hey, better late than never, right?

Yesterday, it was on my to do list: Learn how to use sewing machine. I mean, shit, it can’t be that tough. (Another sidenote: I don’t do step-by-step directions. I’m not good looking at diagrams and then “doing” what it tells me to in Step 5.)

I pull out the monster machine and its 66-page (!) instruction manual. Shit. Page 1: How to not start a fire with the light bulb. Easy enough. Check. Onto page 2. Well, needless to say, the steps get increasingly difficult. By just page 8, I’m learning how to thread a bobber. (Are we fishing?) I skipped over read the next 25 pages or so…and got to page 33. Threading the needle. Man, you mean, it isn’t already threaded? Well, after several attempts at shoving my fat fingers in the “needle” area (which in-and-of-itself is dangerous) and trying to look at the 4 diagrams while putting the thread through the smallest needle-hole known to man…. I got pretty frustrated. I decided it couldn’t be done. Well, it probably can, I was just a moron.

Hell, I even called Mom. I mean, it was her sewing machine. You’d think she’d be able to tell me how to make it work. Easily. Nope. Let me tell you, it’s near-impossible to convey to someone how to work the automatic threader over the phone. “You put the thread through the little thing there and pull it around that hook. Do you see that hook? I think it’s near the other loop.” Sheesh. Thanks, but no thanks.)

I don’t give up on too many things. I normally trudge through them and make it work. But dammit, you can’t mess with something that has an electric pedal and crazy needle that thrusts up and down on its own.

Now, the sewing machine sits. On the kitchen table. Along with spools of thread, random “sewing machine tools” (oil?!) and all my frustrations and confusion.

I promise it won’t collect that film of dust before I try to thread that needle again. The BF even said he’d be willing to help me try and figure the thing out.

But until then, that pair of pants, capris, and two pair of jeans will sit in my closet. They’re in no shape to be seen in public.

Wedding Weekend in the Bay. Part II.

Here’s how last Saturday went down, in pictures.

Here’s the BF and I, right after we pulled out of the apt.

Here’s Mr. and Mrs. Berry.

Here’s what happened when the BF said, “hey, quick pose!” We posed.

Here’s JC and the BF making their way in our group to the reception, post-afternoon bar time.

Me and my TV-2 gals. (Yeah, this is before Tuck was taken to the ER. Poor child.)

Aaaand, let the dancing begin. I believe this was to  JT’s “Sexy Back.”

Here’s one of 62 self-pictures I took. Sure, someone else would have gladly taken it for me, but what fun is that?! This one is of the BF and I.

Two questions came to mind when I saw this picture. Why was the BF taking a picture of our beer…and two, why did I throw the “peace” sign in there?

Man, the combined BAC of this group is likely .85. Sheesh. This was midnight. Need I say more?

So, the BF and I found this ho’bag at the bar. She’s got some low-cut something-or-other-on. Add in an obvious black bra, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster. I’m pretty sure she thought this looked good. I beg to differ, hence, why I made him take a picture of it over my shoulder. That’s how I roll.

And the finale. Hot dogs from a street vendor. Not sure if he was up-to-code…but damn if those doggies weren’t delicious.

Random Thoughts

Welp, it’s Tuesday. (My Friday.) Here are some random thoughts for the day:

–Maui Melon Mint gum, by Orbit, is not good.

–After doing squats and leg presses and other strenuous leg exercises yesterday…I should not have biked today. I’m walking around like I dropped a load in my drawers.

–It’s supposed to be super-muggy these next few days. I almost complained about the humidity. Then I realized I should shut the hell up. We only get 4 good weeks of nice weather in the summer. You won’t hear me complain ever again. (About this, at least.)

–A nice gal pointed out to me (through a comment on wordpress) that I have an abundance of dressers. Krista needs just one. I wonder if the BF would ever give any of them up. Ya know, though…they’re crappy. I’d almost rather buy Krista one than give her one that’s a pile of scrap wood.

–I love having a sun roof on my car.

–I got my electric bill today. It’s only $55!!

–I had to chuck some of the 623 pounds of fruit salad I cut up last week. It was starting to ferment. Apparently man cannot live on fruit salad alone. (The BF and I almost turned into a blueberry and hunk of watermelon, respectively.)

–Summerfest starts Thursday and I’m still not sure whether I’m ready to drop my next paycheck there. It’s expensive. Maybe I’ll go during the day, when I can bring in things like ice cream covers and non-perishables…to get in free.

–I’m not a fan of leftovers, but I’m jacked-up to eat me some leftover tacos from last night! Ole!

–The Scion needs a car wash.

–I need to schedule another date with Krista. (Hey, Krista…any ideas!?!)

–I need to shower. I’m sitting here in a sweaty-ass sports bra and grunts. (Blech. Sorry.)

You’re Doing What?

Dear Miller Brewing Company,

My name is Sara. I enjoy drinking your product, MGD Light. I recently heard you are doing away with that line of product, and replacing it with MGD 64. Now, I understand you’re trying to cater to a more health-conscious society. But, really?! When I drink the beer, the last thing on my mind is calories.  Have you tasted that 64 crap? It’s like pee-in-a-bottle. What’s worse? It has less alcohol than a normal beer. As a beer drinker, I’m willing to take those extra calories, for a full alcohol beer.

I’m shocked and saddened by this decision. I hope you eventually reconsider. Until then, I’m going to keep drinking my other favorite Miller Product, Miller Lite.

Don’t worry, I’d never be a traitor and go to the Dark Side (Budweiser). My loyalty is with you. I’m just a little miffed right now, that’s all.

Call me if you have a change of heart.

Until then, you can take your 64-calorie long-neck…and shove it.

I Do.

Well, I don’t. But two people who I’m mini fond-of did, over the weekend. In the Bay. I was there. Here’s how it went down. Cool-or-Not-Cool-Style. Enjoy.

Cool: I had Saturday and Sunday off. The first since I started my new job in the MKE.

Not Cool: It was kind of warm outside. I sweat. A lot. Like a man running 65 miles in the Sahara Desert. No lies.

Not Cool: The BF didn’t get up right away b/c we had plenty of time. We left the apartment 20 minutes after the initial ETD. As a news producer, part of whose job is to make sure things are timed correctly, it all, quite frankly, drove me batty.

Cool: We got to Appleton in plenty of time for the ceremony. After a stop to fill-up the gas tank and take some cash out of the ATM.

Cool: I knew more people at the ceremony than I thought.

Not Cool: One of those people was my old college RA who called the cops on me after I peed outside (drunk). Long story. Here’s a synopsis: She’s a bitch.

Cool: The bride, Kerry, married a guy named Todd…Berry. Yeah, that’s right kids. Her married name is Kerry Berry. No hyphens, no keeping her maiden name…no nothin’. I giggled.

Not Cool: The BF didn’t notice until after the ceremony that he forgot to button-up two of his shirt buttons…because he got partially dressed outside the church. (Because apparently, wearing a tie and all the buttons done-up on the shirt was too much for the 90 minute ride up 41. Whatevs.)

Not Cool: Because the BF and I were both running around in the morning, neither of us had time to eat breakfast. It was 2pm. I was starving.

Cool: We decided to go to Subway. I heart Subway.

Not Cool: A piece of Southwest Sauce-covered spinach leaf fell on the dress I was wearing. Seriously. We hadn’t even gotten to the reception yet. Spatial awareness, Sara, really?!

Cool: The BF, myself, Justus and Kara trekked over to Oneida. With money burning holes in our pocket. (And obviously an insatiable need to donate it to the Indians. No offense.)

Not Cool: Creepy dudes and crotchy women looked at the four of us like we were definitely in the wrong place, all dressed-up and whatnot.

Cool: We made that shit look good.

Not Cool: The feeling I had in my stomach when I pulled up a chair at my first Blackjack table. (Maybe it was the Southwest Sauce playin’ tricks with my gut. Either way.)

Cool: I walked away from the table ahead $25. Woot.

Cool: The BF won $30 at the same table.

Not Cool: We walked out of there smelling like a dirty half-smoked pack of Pall Malls.

Cool: The hotel we checked into following the casino was within walking distance of the reception.

Not Cool: It was Creepville Central in there. Carpet on the doors? Are you kidding me?

Cool: It was pretty cheap and again, within walking distance.

Not Cool: The handle to flush the toilet, was one of those metal knob-arm lookin’-things (you know, the kind in public bathrooms). So yeah, I flushed the toilet, with my foot. *shudder*

Cool: We walked into a bar on Washington Street at 4pm on a Saturday. The four of us…and a homely looking man at the bar…were the only ones in there.

Not Cool: The bartender was a fill-in and couldn’t make an Old Fashioned to save his life. Doesn’t he know we’re in Wisconsin? That’s all people drink during cocktail hour. Ha.

Cool: A few pitchers and several games of darts later, we walk over the the reception.

Not Cool: A poor, ol’ dead bird (I’m talking freshly dead.) almost got a heel to the head. I totally didn’t see it coming. Good thing I’m agile. Errrr..

Cool: Free beer. All. Night. Long.

Not Cool: The BF and I guessed “Celebration” would have been the first “all dance” song at the reception. It wasn’t. The montage of “Brown Eyed Girl,” “Shout,” and “Twist and Shout” won out. Dammit.

Cool. There was no Chicken Dance.

Not Cool: I sold out and danced the Electric Slide. (I blame that free beer.)

Not Cool: Tuck had an allergic reaction to the food and had to be taken to the ER. (She’s fine.)

Cool: She kept me updated on her status by text message…as she was hooked up to an IV. (What a trooper!)

Cool: The BF danced. And not just to slow songs.

Cool: We managed to stumble to the bars after the reception was over.

Not Cool: Of the 6 of us that went out afterwards, 4 left within 20 minutes. Can’t hang, I guess.

Cool: The BF and I pooled together all the beer that was left in the glasses, put it back into the pitcher and handed it off to some guy before we left. He appreciated it. Hey, who wouldn’t enjoy a half-pitcher of cold beer.

Cool: The BF and I knew when to stop drinking. I heard sharing one toilet to puke in isn’t ideal. I don’t do tubs or sinks.

Cool: We walked a few blocks just to hit up the hot dog stand. Man, it was delicious.

Cool: We got back to the hotel in one piece. That, in itself, is a miracle.

Not Cool: The alarm going off at 9:15am Sunday morning. (We had to get going. The BF had a hard-ball game in Saukville.)

Not Cool: Driving nearly two hours. Hungover. With the sun blaring in your eyes.

Cool: Stopping at McDonald’s for breakfast. A salty hash brown cures-all.

Not Cool: The rain falling during the game.

Cool: Putting two pizzas in the oven when we got home, and polishing them both off. (God, we’re sick.)

Cool: Showering and crawling into bed at 7:45pm.

Phew…that was my weekend. Super fun, relaxing and friend-filled. Exactly what I needed. A good Bay Boost! Hopefully, some pictures to come.

Saturday Itinerary.

Here’s what’s on the docket:

11:00am: Leave MKE for Appleton.

1pm: Attend wedding ceremony for friend.

2pm: Drive up to The Bay to do some gambling.

2:56pm: The BF and I lose $50 apiece (or so we’re predicting)

4pm: Make way to GB hotel to check-n

4:15pm: Walk to local watering hole to enjoy a few “pre-reception” cocktails.

5:30pm: Cocktails starts (continues) at reception (which, mind you, is right across the street from said hotel).

6:30pm: Enjoy some likely halfway decent wedding food. I’m anticipating mashed potatoes and beans in mix. Hoping for a complimentary glass of vino or champagne. (Too much to ask?)

7:30pm: Dancing commences at reception. Will not partake in: Electric Slide, YMCA, Shout, Chicken Dance, bouquet toss (over-rated).

7:45pm: WILL dance to: Sex Bomb (Tom Jones), Love Shack, Get Low (to the windoooows, to the waaalls, ’till the sweat drip down my….).

12am: Leave reception, likely buzzed up… and walk to downtown bars.

1:30am: Likely make fool out of myself by dancing more and saying things that are totally inappropriate.

2:30am: Walk Stumble back to hotel. Fall asleep Pass out.

There, now you can follow along with my day. Enjoy yours.

CONGRATS TODD & KERRY!!