SarahWurrey.com

I’m about to lay down a very important piece of life advice. It is vital to your future sanity. Are you ready for it? In fact, it’s not even going to come from me. It should come from someone with the appropriate amount of gravitas.

This ought to do it:

Listen up kids, because I am about to lay down some knowledge.

Now that I have your attention, and a spokesman with the right amount of gravitas, listen carefully to Morgan Freeman:

Never, ever, loan your books or movies to friends. And if you do, be prepared to never see them again.

Sarah! Morgan! How can you say such a thing? Don’t you trust your friends? You’re implying that your friends will maliciously make off with your possessions so they don’t have to shell out $12.99 at Target? That’s terrible!

Settle down, I’m not saying that at all. I’ve certainly loaned books and DVDs and gotten them back in a timely fashion. I’ve also loaned them and never seen them again. I’ve also borrowed books and DVDs and returned them, and in turn borrowed books and DVDs that remain in my collection to this day.

None of this is malicious. It’s just that a certain amount of time passes, and unless the borrower or lender make a specific effort, sometimes you just don’t return something, and then you move away, and then 5 years have passed and you’re like “Hey, I didn’t know I owned ‘The Big Lebowski’, let’s watch this Dude!” all the while some poor friend of yours back in New Hampshire is probably all “what mofo made off with my Lebowski DVD?”

Or you know, something to that effect.

Which is what was running through my head last week when I was attempting to track down my “Good Will Hunting” DVD. I know I had one. I remember watching it about 1,000 times before its mysterious disappearance. (I can’t decide if it’s the allure of a young and occasionally shirtless Matt Damon, Ben Affleck sporting an inexplicable pompadour and tracksuit combo throughout as if he were a Sopranos extra despite obviously portraying a Boston Irish type, or the math professor’s gay assistant–one of the most underrated performances in the whole movie…I just can’t resist Good Will Hunting.)

The movie is no longer in my possession. And that’s okay, because it’s my own fault, because if “Good Will Hunting” is not around despite the fact that I apparently own two copies of “What Dreams May Come” (on VHS no less), then I know that’s because I loaned it out. I am certain the person I loaned it to did not mean to steal it, any more than I intended to steal Lebowski. This stuff happens.

Which brings me back to my point: Never, ever loan out your books or DVDs unless you’re prepared to bid them a fond farewell. And go to Target and spend $12.99 on a movie you already own.

(And if it’s your copy of The Big Lebowski that made its way into my DVD cabinet, well…I kinda hope you don’t read this, because that was a pretty good get. )

It’s possible that I’ve quit smoking.

It’s been over a month since I’ve had one, and just about 2 months, I think, since I’ve smoked more than one or two. I can’t even remember, actually. So it’s possible that I’ve quit. As I wrote last year, the thought of quitting smoking seemed like some unbearable punishment. Mostly because, as everyone knows, smoking is awesome. (Remember kids, don’t smoke! Because it’s awesome, so you will never, ever be able to stop, and then you’ll end up accidentally essploding your oxygen tank, like happened in that one episode of that hospital show I saw that time, with the doctors who make out in supply rooms all up against the sterile equipment and stuff. Gross, doctors!)

My reasons for quitting can be boiled down thusly:

1) The awesomeness tax that has swept the nation has caused the price of a single pack of smokes to skyrocket to approximately $147. I could buy a ticket on Southwest for that, and go to Phoenix or something!

2) People hate awesomeness. They don’t let you smoke, anywhere. Not even at outdoor bars, where it is acceptable to smoke only if you get up out of your chair and take one large step to the left, to the other side of the invisible smoke forcefield.

3) My boyfriend made me.

Number three is highly problematic for a fire-breathing dragon-lady feminist like myself. It requires many rationalizations, such as:

1) Is smoking really worth fighting for as a feminist sticking point? Well, of course it is, if you really think about it, but on the surface: no.

2) I have a chit to cash in whenever I feel like it!

“I gave up smoking for you, and you can’t even shut the shower curtain after your shower? Well, I nevah!!!!”

3) I’m certainly not doing anything else that I started doing when I was 17. Do I have Leonardo DiCaprio pictures on my wall? Do I wear tie-dye shirts and Birkenstocks and flannel shirts every day? (What? It was the 90s!) Do I listen to Smashing Pumpkins albums on repeat, searching for hidden messages sent straight from Billy Corgan to my damaged teenage soul?

No, no, and BWAAHAHAHAH, no. So why am I still smoking?

Of course, now that I’ve written this blog I will no doubt set out to chain smoke at my earliest convenience, having irrevocably jinxed my chances of making this hiatus permanent. I’ll let you know.

This post at Pandagon had me cracking up.

Essentially, a blogger posted a bit of a web rant warning of the dangers of little Miley Cyrus and her possible foray from pop music into country. In short, the blogger was concerned that her somewhat tarted up image and alleged liberal leanings would taint the wholesomeness of country music.

I’m sorry…what?

Y’all, despite my Yankee status, I am a HUGE country fan. I love it; it is essentially all I listen to. A couple years ago, I even bought a “mega ticket” at the Nissan Pavillion (I refuse to call it by its new name) (snerk!) to go to 7 different country shows all in one summer. I wore a cowboy hat and sang along to every song. Zac Brown’s first big hit, “Chicken Fried,” might be one of my all-time favorite songs, and kinda makes me wish I was from Georgia. So please understand, what I’m about to say is coming from a place of love.

Country music ain’t wholesome.

This has driven me crazy for a while now, mainly because the country music station in DC edits the word “ass” out of the terrific Zac Brown Band song “Toes.” I’m always like, “Really? When every other country song is about killing someone? Really?”

No really, it’s true: So far as I can tell, many (many) country songs are about one of three things: Drinkin’, Cheatin’, or Murderin’. Don’t believe me? Let’s have some examples then, shall we?

Also–I am not judging…I think these songs are all pretty much awesome. Nothing wrong with a good honky tonk number — just feeling the need to point out the ridiculousness of the notion that country music could be “tainted” by, of all people, apple-cheeked little Miley Cyrus, who’s never sung a good drinkin’/cheatin’/murderin’ song in her entire young life.

Regardless — on to the categories!

Drinkin’ Songs:

Drunker than Me (Trent Tomlinson) – Guy is upset his previously teetotaling girlfriend has started boozing it up, forcing him to be the responsible one.
It’s 5 O’Clock Somewhere (Alan Jackson) – Guy blows off work to get drunk all afternoon.
Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off (Joe Nichols) – Self explanatory.
All Jacked Up (Gretchen Wilson) – Lady goes to bar for just one drink, ends up getting hammered, knocking out another lady’s tooth, and then crashing her truck.
Ten Rounds With Jose Cuervo (Tracey Byrd) – As a down on his luck guy drinks ten shots, his night improves with every drink.

Cheatin’ Songs:

You Can’t Take the Honky Tonk Outta the Girl (Brooks & Dunn) - Drunken trollop from the big city returns home and runs off with her second cousin’s fiance the night before the wedding.
Stays in Mexico (Toby Keith) – An insurance salesman from South Dakota cheats on his wife and family with a first grade schoolteacher after too many margaritas in Mexico.
The Thunder Rolls (Garth Brooks) – This a Very! Serious! Song! about the dangers of cheating. Mainly? Women always know.
Before He Cheats (Carrie Underwood) – Guys: if you value your vehicles, don’t cheat on Carrie Underwood. For real.
Why Don’t You Stay (Sugarland) – In another Very! Serious! Song!, a lady having an affair with another woman’s hubby comes to her senses and dumps the guy.

Murderin’ Songs:

(Soooo many to choose from, so I’ve broken it up into “Fun ‘n’ Folksy Murderin’ Songs” and “Very! Serious! Murderin’ Songs.”)

Fun ‘n’ Folksy:

Goodbye Earl (Dixie Chicks) – A favorite of karaoke gals everywhere, who because of the funny and folksy tone of the song may not realize that the song is less about gal power than it is about a woman who is so brutally beaten by her husband that she enlists her childhood best friend to help her murder him.

Papa Loved Mama (Garth Brooks) – Upbeat number wherein the titual Papa puts Mama in the graveyard for stepping out on him. At least the song also points out that he ends up in jail.

Kerosene/Gunpowder and Lead (Miranda Lambert) – Kerosene = You Cheat, You Die! Gunpowder & Lead = You hit me, you die!

Very Serious Murderin’ Songs:

Independence Day (Martina McBride) – Beaten wife kills her husband and herself in a horrible fire. Upbeat!

Folsom Prison Blues (Johnny Cash) – Shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die. Classic lyric, still a very bad thing to do.

Cocaine Blues (Johnny Cash) – Has the bonus of being about murder AND drugs! Drugged out guy shoots his woman then sleeps with the gun under his pillow.

Whiskey Lullaby (Brad Paisley/Allison Krause) – Ok, so it’s about suicide, but it’s still pretty dark stuff. Actually this might be more of a drinkin’ song….because it’s about former lovers who drink themselves to death. One from heartbreak, one from guilt. I mean…wow, now I’m depressed.

What are your favorite delightfully UN-wholesome country songs?

In the interests of firing up the old blog engine again after my usually scheduled four week break (which I take once every two weeks–blogging is hard work you guys), I am pulling a topic from the illustrious (in both esteem and hair) Meg Fowler. Nothing gets the writing juices flowing like a good old fashioned peeve-a-thon!

Therefore, here are Six Things That Will Always Annoy Me.

1) Incompetent Starbucks Baristas – I am not a person who berates those who work in the food service industry. My boyfriend works in this industry. My sister works in this industry. I almost always leave a 20% tip regardless of service at restaurants, becuase a) it’s easy math (math is hard!), and b) I don’t punish people financially for having a bad day or being grumpy and/or forgetful. If I myself were punished financially for grumpiness and forgetfulness, I’d be destitute.

(Here comes the but!) BUT–what’s up, Starbucks baristas??? It’s a Venti. Skim. Misto. Sugar-free caramel. And yet?

“Can I get a venti skim Misto with sugar-free caramel?”
“Sure. Calling bar! I need a venti Misto with vanilla!”
“Uh, no, it’s a SKIM, and that’s sugar-free caramel.”
“Oh whoops–Make that skim! And make it sugar-free vanilla!”
“NO. CARAMEL.”
“Caramel!”
“Sugar Free! Sugar Free Caramel!!!!!”

And even after all that they still hand me my finished drink without the caramel 3 times out of 5.

(Dunkin on the other hand, is right every time. *wistful sigh*)

2) Skinny People Who Complain About Their Weight – This one is tough, because some of my  best friends are Skinny People Who Complain About Their Weight. And yes, here is my obligatory admission that everyone from size 0 to size 300 will feel crappy about the way their butt looks in a particular pair of pants at some point in their lives. But for the most part? Cram it, Skinny People Who Complain About Their Weight! I think what bothers me most about this peeve is the silent understanding between me and the Skinny Person Complaining About Their Weight that if they woke up one day and looked like me, they would probably not even leave the house, except maybe to throw themselves in front of traffic. I just never really know what to say, so I usually go with the silent fume.

3) Message Boards – I got flamed for the first time last week, and I still can’t believe it took me 15 years of being online for this to happen. Long story short, I raised the ire of a regular commenter on the board I was posting on, and it resulted in a day-long event in which everyone thereafter posted HUNDREDS of comments questioning my moral fiber, level of attractiveness, intelligence, maturity, ability to read, and potential for finding a life mate. In short, message boards are, anthropologically speaking, bat$h!t CRAZY places. They are generally self-ruled by gangs of “regulars.” These regulars apparently don’t have jobs, because all they do all day long is post to their message board of choice. If you are new to the board and say something they don’t like, they will insult, taunt, and bully you endlessly. Trying to defend yourself only makes it worse; the only way out of it is to relent and admit they are your master, or post a final angry message about how you are taking your ball and going home. The second option is potentially more infuriating, because you will inevitably go back to this message board and wait for the flood of responses begging you not to leave and apologizing for how bat$h!t crazy the regular posters are, but you will instead be met with the Internet equivalent of that “Na-na-na-na hey hey hey good bye!” song. It stings. Avoid these places like the plague.

4) Reading Over My Shoulder – The easiest way to send me flying irrationally off the handle? Read over my shoulder, or ask me what I’m reading. Poor Chef Jon is obviously the most common victim of this one, as he can never help but ask me what I’m reading when I’m sitting with my laptop.

“Whatcha reading???”
“A blog.”
“What blog?”
“It’s a review of that movie we saw.”
“Oh, what are they saying?”
“OMFG LEAVE ME ALONE!”

And then he gets all hurt. I’m not saying it’s reasonable to yell at someone for this infraction. Nor is it necessarily polite to sit on your laptop and ignore your boyfriend when he’s at your house. I never said these peeves were rational, people! But damn. If I’m reading something, just let me be. Then maybe in the car later, “Hey have you read anything interesting lately? Can you recommend a funny blog?” Then I will be nice, because I am not being interrupted. Simple!

5) People Who Put You On The Phone With Their Children – This is self explanatory (one would think). Also, people who post photos of their kids as their Facebook picture. Yes, I’m an evil witch who eats babies for breakfast. But like I said, not all of these peeves are rational. It’s like people who hate Christmas. HOW CAN YOU HATE CHRISTMAS!? I exclaim. But they can’t explain it, they just do. That’s how I feel about Facebook profile photos of your admittedly cute baby. I’m sorry, really.

6) Sanctimonious Vegetarians/Workout Addicts/Ex-Smokers -

“I don’t understand how people can eat that! I don’t put anything into my body that wasn’t grown in the turd pile in my backyard. And can I just tell you how great I feel? And you should see my poop! Before I put it into my turd garden, I always check it thoroughly to make sure I’m digesting properly. And can I just tell you, do not get that generic brand of the pro-biotic poo-yogurt, only Pay$$$WhenYouAlreadyPooForFree! Yogurt will work. And ever since I gave up smoking and started 5am spinning and yoga every day, I am just so energetic! And did I tell you we got rid of our TV? We’re all just so much happier.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was distracted by the ‘Real World’ marathon that’s on and this ginormous bag of cheez-its. Also, can we talk later? I’m out of cigs. Byeee!”

If you live on the East Coast, or own a TV, you might know that my neck of the woods has gotten blasted in the last couple days with about ten thousand tons of snow. Here are just a few things I’ve learned in the last 48 hours:

Lesson #1: Sometimes, the Crazy Grocery Store People Are Right
My fellow New Englanders and I enjoy mocking all the crazed DC french toast enthusiasts who relieve the Harris Teeter of its entire egg/milk/bread supply in the 24 hours before even the slightest flurry. But seeing as how I was trapped in my boyfriend’s apartment for 36 hours this weekend with no hope of rescue, it turns out the crazies might have a point. Lucky for me, said boyfriend is a chef. There was plenty of food. But imagine if there weren’t!!! I mean, what would I have done about my boredom eating?

Lesson #2: Uggs Are NOT Snow Boots
Uggs are many things. Comfy, warm, remarkably unattractive, worn frequently by teenagers with their miniskirts on the hottest day of summer in an effort to enrage me. They are also $150. What they are NOT? Is snow boots. Trust.

Lesson #3: Snow Only Covers Poo, It Does Not Vaporize It
No one, and I mean no one, cleans up their dog’s crap when they walk it in the snow. Is that some sort of unspoken pet owner code? Like, “well, we have to walk these nasty mongrels in a damn blizzard, so no way am I picking up any poops. Just no.”

Lesson #4: Booze Can Solve All Your Problems
The snow wouldn’t stop for several more hours, but things really warmed up in our house when I remembered about that full bottle of Jack Daniels in the liquor cabinet.

Lesson #5: SUVs Don’t Mean ANYTHING
People who drive SUVs are some of the biggest idiots you’ll ever meet. As a reasonable, sensible, intelligent person, I think “well 4 wheel drive would be nice, but it sure won’t help me in a damn blizzard with five-foot snow drifts.” An SUV driver on the other hand, will say “Bizzard? WHAT blizzard? I can drive 90 mph la la la, four wheel drive, la la laaaa!” (crash)

Lesson #6: Putting Your Windshield Wipers Up In the Air Really Doesn’t Make a Difference Sometimes

Here I am, wrapped in a Snuggie because my heat is apparently broken, innocently watching “60 Minutes” because I was interested in the segment on famous shipwrecks (hey, I’ve been a Titanic junkie since I spent all of 1998 swooning over Leo with the rest of the 18 year olds) (okay, 14 year olds), and suddenly, I see this:

Watch CBS Videos Online

Transcript becuase the embed video apparently isn’t working (emphasis mine): “Want to do something special for your woman this Christmas? Call her doctor and schedule her pap smear. Pap smears save lives. This Christmas impress her–give her the gift that even Santa can’t deliver.” (Background: “Ho, ho, ho!”)

YIKES. I honestly rewound three times and watched it over and over, waiting for Kristen Wig to come into the frame and prove that this was some sort of SNL promo bonus skit….on CBS. YIKES. Even worse? At the next commercial break, I saw this:

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Transcript (emphasis mine): “Want to do something special for your woman this Hannukah? Schedule her pap smear! Just a “schmear” could save her life. Light up her menorah with the gift that says, ‘you look great, but it’s what’s inside that counts!’”

I’m sorry…did they really just compare a vaginal exam to…cream cheese?

Why yes, as a matter of fact they did.

Quick poll: What’s the worse holiday gift, a pap smear or the dog Snuggie? (h/t Momsey)

Seven Items From The Last Month While Y’all Have Been Whining About My Absence:

1) Vacation in Cancun that sucked so bad it was almost comical. It rained every day. All day. No kidding. And when it wasn’t raining, it was cold (no kidding) and windy (hello, Hurrican Ida…’sup?). I dealt with it by reading. And drinking relaxing. Here is the obligatory cartoon.

(Note my lack of tan. Thanks for the memories, Cancun!)

2) Do you ever feel a little ashamed when you see something in the Sky Mall that you would SO TOTALLY BUY? For example, the brownie pan that makes the whole batch turn out like the chewy edges! Omg, WANT.

3) Luckily, the next thing I saw was this. You heat them up in the microwave. Stressed out? Just throw your adorable pet husky into the microwave, and then wrap its hot, limp corpse around your neck and shoulders. Who needs a spa??

4) Facebook Relationship Ad Advice Update: Last time, Facebook had me stalking my boyfriend to ensure fidelity. A couple weeks ago, I seemed to have moved past the Needy Stalker phase and into the Pressuring for a Ring phase. Thanks, Facebook–without you, how would I know how my relationship was progressing?

5) Two Random 90’s Movie Reviews: Every time I watch “The Parent Trap”, I think two things: one, that Lindsay Lohan was a truly adorable, talented kid, which is so sad considering.

Cocaine's a helluva drug, y'all.

And second, the whole plot of this film hinges on the notion that two parents, finding themselves unable to get along, would simply split up their infant twin daughters in a semi-King Solomon style, and abandon them to the other for life. This scenario is accepted as pretty much totally fine by just about everyone, including the twins in question even after they discover they’ve been denied both a sibling and a parent (to say nothing of grandparents, etc.) for their entire lives. WTF, people. In reality, everyone involved in a situation like this would be in serious therapy at a minimum and family court for certain. Honestly.

Also–have you ever watched “Cats & Dogs”? This movie is fricking brilliant. I love it. Can’t help it–seriously, Netflix it if you don’t believe me! Siamese cats as ninjas? Omg, seriously. And I do believe Mr. Tinkles is the greatest movie villain of all time. He’s way more evil than that guy in “No Country for Old Men” who kills people with that helium tank or whatever.

6) Ok, so I actually only had five things. But the Patriots game is on at the same time as Family Guy, and switching back and forth between the two has been quite distracting. I’ll try to update again before Christmas though, m’kay?

While spending the last two days chained to my couch, being incredibly dramatic over my non-swine related head cold and rocking sweatpants and my gigantic WEEI long sleeved t-shirt, whose origins remain a mystery (this shirt is my favorite thing to lounge about in, and yet I have no idea how I came to own it), I’ve made several meaningful observations:

1) Despite the common notion that men whine like babies whenever they catch so much as the sniffles, the Chef has schooled my ass this week. He had the cold first, and basically acted like it was no big deal. I on the other hand, act as though I’m on my deathbed. Or, in this case, deathcouch. Also, I’m pretty sure it’s love when he still thinks you’re cute with a red nose, glassy eyes and couch hair.

2) That old “feed a cold, feed a fever” thing (yeah, I don’t do starving, have we met?) really just doesn’t work. The more cookies I eat, the more sick I end up feeling. It’s like, great, now I’ve got a head cold and a stomachache. Thanks, cookies.

3) When you have a friend in town for one night only who wants to go out, just go to the bar across the street. That way if you keel over, the couch is 50 yards away, and whiskey and NyQuil have very similar scientific makeup.

4) When delirious with cabin fever and dry mouth (caused by all the mouth breathing) (and all the cookies), don’t decide it’s a great idea to get “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” On Demand. Just….don’t.

5) No matter how much you want them to taste good, those blue corn tortilla chips from Trader Joe’s will never taste good. Even with salt. Move on.

6) You know how when people who cannot sing do karaoke, they always make those lame excuses beforehand “Oh, you guys are in for it tonight!” or “Ohmigod, I can’t believe I let them talk me into this!”….well I do that with cooking. I made breakfast this morning, and it was a constant stream of excuses. It’s that way every time I cook, or really every time I allow anyone in my kitchen:

“Okay, this pancake might taste like bacon, becuase I only have one frying pan. It might also taste like burning, because that one frying pan kind of has scorched-on something or other on it. Also, the pancake itself is burnt, soooo. Yeah.”

“Okay, we can make dinner here, but first let me take all my dirty dishes out of the oven….What? I don’t have a dishwasher, and sometimes you need to get them out of the way!”

“Sorry about that container of ricotta cheese that’s six months old, every time I want to throw it away I have a fresh bag in the garbage, and if I threw it away it would reek!….What? The garbage chute is all the way down the hall!”

7) I can sew buttons! I have this fab red coat that, for reasons entirely unrelated to my corpulence since the coat is not too small AT ALL (no really!!!) lost almost all its buttons last fall. I decided to use two hours (yes, really) of my couch time today sewing them back on, and it totally came out well! I think! We’ll see!! I pricked three fingers, my leg twice, and my lips. But check me out, I am like, totally domestic.

8. No, I was really serious about “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past.”

9) My cat keeps trying to get in the fridge. I am tempted to let him to teach him a lesson, but with my luck I’d forget he was in there and then I’d have to give him mouth-to-mouth like that “Punky Brewster” episode where Cherry got stuck in the old fridge that scared the bejesus out of me when I was 8:

I gotta say, I’m not sure how I feel about this. One day you go to bed with a relatively normal, if a bit oversized, head, and the next morning it’s a giant brick.

As if I didn’t already have enough trouble hat shopping.

I used to be a regular contributor at Blogstring.com, my buddy Nate’s most excellent 2.0/startup-marketing blog. I haven’t written in over a year, because I suck, but my email is still available there.

As such, spambots grab it and send spam that is essentially “from” me to god-knows-who. Spam-Sarah apparently really wants you to invest in some products that will, er, enhance your manhood.  I also love how they turn up in my gmail spam folder all at once, and beneath recipes for Spam Pie.

Oh and btw, Spam-Sarah is really NSFW…and while I approve of her use of “licentious” as a word-nerd, her general grammar is just…sigh.