superstar

sonia : 1
dentist: 300

don't be fooled. this is still a victory for me.

also, don't be fooled by people telling you to use laughing gas

1. it doesn't make you laugh
b. it makes you feel like your body is about to explode
3. could be just me, but i had them shut it off and did it the old fashioned way. swig of whisky. piece of leather to bite on.

i think i get special treatment because i'm little. and because i cry. whatever the reason, i felt like a champion today with all the "oh my gawsh! you are doooin' soooo goood sweetheart!" and "wow! you are our superstar patient today!" part of me was embarrassed because i am 26, but the majority of me just liked being called a superstar. i've always loved the spotlight.

comedic genius

i bought the most magical thing at a thrift store for $3 yesterday. i haven't been this excited about an inanimate object since i got a marionette doll for my birthday.

i was talking to my sister on the phone after i forced my dad to tell me who had the cutest baby pictures. " sarah is his favorite daughter! you are his favorite baby pictures! what do i have going for me!?!"

somehow, partial hearing heard this, and with impeccable comedic timing called up the stairs "you have my favorite dog!".  nice one chas. you're getting better with this whole joking thing.

game world, fun for every hmong

my mom walked in on me singing into a hairbrush. i thought that only happened in the movies, but i proved myself wrong. i also thought it was only embarrassing in the movies. wrong again.

the only thing more embarrassing than engagement pictures (don't get me started) is honeymoon pictures. "here is a picture of one of us standing in the water. now here is another picture of the other one standing in the water. here is a picture of our room where we have lots of sex. does that make you uncomfortable? ok, fine then here are 120 pictures of just one of us standing awkwardly in front of a beach, zip line, hotel lobby or festive mexican street market. maybe we'll do the self timer and stand in the water together!".

ok. i guess the only thing worse than engagement and honeymoon pictures is me looking through them. every time. and complaining about it.

my dad told me he went to see a james bond movie instead of prom. he started the confession with "listen to how much of a nerd your dad was..." to which i reminded him that he was talking to the girl who went to Game Word in GreenBay instead of her dances. he didn't remember that so he asked"who'd ya go with?" "just all the other nerdy girls, dad." i didn't go to dances but i was damn good at dance dance revolution.

there is nothing wrong with being non-traditional...or nerdy, as my dad puts it. I would wager a pretty penny that my times spent at game world were a lot more fun and a lot less expensive than the neenah high school gym prom. i would also like to make a future wager that my honeymoon will be a lot more fun when i save myself $5,000 bucks and a digital cameras battery life by not going to a sandals couples resort and documenting the whole thing.

or maybe i will. i just won't put it on facebook.

manly fantasies

they say the best thing about waking up, is folgers in your cup. while i do love a warm coffee hug in the morning, i disagree. the best thing about waking up is knowing you can go back to bed whenever you want.

for the past two weeks i spend my days trying to remember what i forgot. everyday i wrack my brain asking myself just what it was that was so important. then i lay myself to sleep and put my hands behind my head. ahhh. then i remember. deodorant!

my bed is a disaster zone. i occupy a strict 5' x 2' area, but my bed is still full. it is mostly full of books. i have adult add and can't just read one at a time. and i also don't have the time to put them back on my shelves. currently on the racks of my sleepy library are 2 david sedaris memoirs, a huge ass book of scandinavian fairy tales (i read the pancake man last night) jesus calling (all good christians read it), and my ibook from 2006. thats a computer, but it has the word book in it so i thought it should count too. at the bottom of my bed are at least 12 pairs of socks. (seriously, who can sleep with socks on???) bras, pants, a mens pajama set that i somehow take off in the middle of the night and an occasional bowl that was once filled with pickles at 4am.

my sleeping habits have become more than habits. obsessive compulsive rituals may be too strong of a title, but we're gaining on that. When i was little I forced myself to breathe out of my mouth because i was scared my nose would get plugged at night and i would die. now i know only chubby people breathe through their mouths, so i started sleeping with a fan to aid my respiratory system. little did i know the fan also covered up all those annoying noises i used to tolerate. wind. clocks ticking. dad's snoring. the soft soft sound of my own breaths.  i used to be so gracious. if left without a fan or whitenoise app on my ipod, i toss, turn and sometimes cry myself through a sleepless night, thinking of my beautiful turbo power mini fan bought on sale at wal-greens.

i've tried to ween myself slowly from my mini-fan dependence. i stopped letting it be the first thing i packed when traveling. i allowed for it only when there was adequate space. (somehow there always was....who needs underwear, really?) i know it is a joke. i know that my husband will snore and breathe heavier than any turbo fan could cover up. i know that i can conquer this. but i think i'll focus on my other fears first. i need my fan.

looks like i just did a bed themed blog. i love themes. i think they're funny. i once had a 101 dalmations themed room. then i had a broadway musical theme. nowadays, i just have a dream to go to one of those themed hotels. i think they're used mostly for weird lovers and their role play, but whose to say they're the only ones who can have fun and whose to say role play can only be for intimate times? while my hotel neighbors will be enjoying their arabian palace for sexy-time, i will happily be living out my little house on the prairie fantasies (the appropriate kind) in the covered wagon room talkin' to imaginary pa and wishin' Manly Wilder was there to walk me home from school!

popcorn bucket

I’ve got a pocket full of sunshine and a mouth full of fillings. I’d rather have that than a potty mouth. I’m pretty sure my dog has a potty mouth, because his breath smells like the boy’s gym bathroom. Woof.

Once again, I am at home. Nothing says “dependence” more than a mommy-daughter date to the DMV to get your licenses renewed…to the same address. Whatever, man. It’s nice to have some consistency.

I tried to teach my mom how to use a stability ball. The only thing we learned was that trying to teach your 63 year old mother how to use a stability ball only leads to bladder instability.

I’m moving to Washington. Well, I’m putting stuff in my car and driving there. Seems like such a waste after renewing my license. My picture was horrible though…I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get a re-do.

Maybe I’ll just get an up-do. I once had to for a friends wedding. It cost me 60 bucks for a overweight woman who smelled of Brittany Spears’ “Circus” to tease my hair and give me 3 curls. I paid for the experience, no doubt.

I asked a boy I know to tell me a funny story. He told me his mom got drunk at a No Doubt concert and threw up in a popcorn bucket. If you have a better story than that, I’d like to hear it. I’m doubtful a better story exists. Although, I heard Anna Karenina is ok.