Guest Blogger: Gabriel the Cat

Greetings. Gabriel, here.

Something incredibly disconcerting has recently come to my attention and I felt it was imperative to hijack my mom’s blog for the purpose of addressing it. My sister, Bella, and I have been overhearing a disturbing amount of Humans ask my parents when they are going to Hurry Up And Have Children Already.

I beg your pardon?

What bestows upon you the right to ascend into MY abode and start uttering such preposterously offensive language? Are you under the impression that just because I’m a cat I don’t know what you’re saying?

Oh, I know. I know.

I hear you, every time you inquire as to when they are going to Start A Family. Every time you unwittingly imply that Cat Children Don’t Count. Every time I am indirectly equated with Chopped Liver (except, I never actually understood that expression, because I find liver rather delectable).  We ARE a family. Cat Children DO COUNT. And I AM NOT CHOPPED LIVER.

Okay. I apologize for my outburst. Believe it or not, my usual demeanor is rather agreeable and extremely pleasant in fact - I also actually quite fancy the vast majority of Humans who call on my parents.  But, I must ask you – no, implore you - to PLEASESTOP trying to get them to Have (Human) Children.

 Bella & I have discussed this, and we prefer for things to remain just as they are.  We have been previously exposed to Human Children (well, not Bella because most people scare the crap out of her, but she can hear the Human Children and their Noise from her Secret Hiding Spots when they are on the premises). They are vile, odious creatures - vermin best kept to those Humans who are not evolved enough to reside with cats.

In an effort to prove my point, I have compiled a list of Reasons Why Cat Children Are Better Than Human Children. I humbly request that you read it, and do so with an open mind, as I believe that the logic behind my reasoning will speak for itself. Let us begin.

Our Parents Already Have Someone To Nurture And Love And Post Obscene Amounts Of Pictures Of On Their Social Network Of Choice

Often times a couple will have a Human Child because they desire to have something to love and nurture and raise and discipline and populate the earth with. This is all well and good – but a cat can meet all of these needs for you. We need lots of love and nurturing. In fact, because we’re animals, we will always need you just as much (if not more) in the middle and end of our lives as we do in the beginning. We aren’t  ever going to learn how to get our own food and water, scoop our own feces, put on our own preposterous outfits, drive ourselves to doctor’s appointments, or what have you (and even if we did we sure as HEdoublehockeysticks wouldn’t tell you about it).  If you want to feel needed, HERE WE ARE. We won't outgrow your love either. True, some cats get crotchety as they get older, but the majority of us will still sleep in your bed, and cuddle up on your lap and purr, and let you kiss all over us well into our teen years. How many Human Children can you say that about.  It’s the same results as Attachment Parenting, but way less creepy.

And we certainly need discipline. Bella & I still jump onto the counters sometimes, even though we know those are in the Forbidden Zone, and Lord knows we still try to scratch on our parents’ nice leather couches even when they are sitting right there and even though we have a Very Sweet Cat Tree with scratching posts in our room. Why do you think we try to scratch the couches in front of them sometimes even though we know we’ll get into trouble?  It’s for them, not us. The opportunity to discipline and mold and shape us into becoming Good Cats Who Make Good Decisions is a rewarding experience that they derive a deep (though, granted, likely unacknowledged) satisfaction from – and, even if they aren’t keenly aware of this, it’s still quietly, subtly filling a void in that area of their life that they now do not have to seek to fill with a Human Child or (shudder) Children.

And, as far as the pictures go, I’m pretty sure my Mom has over a hundred in her Gabe & Bella album on Facebook, so.

Let’s Just Get This One Out Of The Way

No Human Child could ever be as Really, Really Ridiculously Good-Looking as I am. I’m just saying.

Human Children Are Loud. We Are Not 

Our parents are able to maintain a quiet existence with us in their lives. That’s not to say we NEVER meow or make noise, but the instances are infrequent and short-lived. Like, we’re pretty much quiet all the time. Human Children are loud most of the time. So are their toys.  And their god-awful television shows. And have you ever HEARD a Human Child throw a tantrum? That alone should be effective enough to make the rest of my list unnecessary.  But, I’ll continue.

Human Children Are Messy. We Are Only Somewhat Messy

Have you ever noticed how much CRAP comes with a kid?  Our home is relatively clutter free and only gets messy if my parents are sick or Currently Addicted To A TV Show That They Haven’t Seen Every Episode Of Yet and don’t clean it as much as they normally would. Admittedly, Bella and I do leave a toy or two on the floor from time to time, we aren’t the World’s Neatest Eaters, and we do sometimes get cat litter on Things That Are Not The Litter Box. However, our mess is manageable - utterly and completely manageable.  A Human Child’s mess, on the other hand, will kickyourass. Every hour of every minute of every day. There will always be Kid Furniture And/Or Supplies everywhere, toys scattered throughout every room, and every surface will have a Mysterious Stickiness on it. Your house is not your own anymore, it has been taken over by Human Child Crap. And, let me just say,  if I couldn’t stretch way out on the carpet because a pile of Hot Wheels Cars and a pink baby doll stroller was in my way, I would be slightly pissed.

 Have I Mentioned Diapers?

I realize that we cats use a litter box, a litter box that has to be scooped out and maintained...once every day or two.  And I can GUARANTEE you nobody has to wipe my derriere. A Human Child means changing diapers into the double digits, every single day, until they are old enough to use the bathroom by themselves. I came to my parents already potty trained. I win.

My Parents Still Know What Sleep Is

We never wake our parents up during the night. And, in fact, we let them sleep as long as they want to on the weekends, even though that may mean getting our breakfast several hours later than what we’re used to. We’re just awesome like that. Human Children will wake you up during the night often and don’t really give a crap if you want to sleep in on the weekends. Our parents get to sleep as much as they want. And, as a cat, I understand that sleep is a Very Beautiful Thing.

Baby-Sitters Need Not Apply

Our Mom & Dad can get up and go anytime the mood strikes them, without giving it a second thought. Whenever, wherever. Heck, they can even go away for MULTIPLE DAYS if they so desire, without having to worry about us. Since Human Children, however, are Pathetic Creatures That Require Constant Supervision, our parents would either have to bring them along or find a Baby-Sitter to come and sit on the children in their absence; they would also probably have to pay said Baby-Sitter for their services. Which brings me to my next point.

Human Children Are Expensive Little Boogers

My mom is currently the only one bringing home a pay check, because Dad is in school trying become a BAMF Fighter Pilot Dad. That being the case, they can only afford to accommodate the living expenses for the four of us – trust me.  And Bella & I do cost money. We go to a Nice Vet’s Office that only treats cats, we eat Good Food, we pee and poo in High-Quality Litter. We do not, however, eat three meals a day (plus snacks) or drink anything other than free water, wear clothes and shoes and diapers, get an ear infection once a month, own more toys than what could fit in a small warehouse, need an obscene amount of Supplies,  or have any plans to attend college.  Human Children are fricking expensive. We are only slightly expensive. Slightly > fricking.

We Do Not Require Our Parents To Watch Nauseating Kids Shows That Make Them Want to Stab Something Sharp In Their Eye And/Or Ear

Our parents have full control over the remote, 24/7. Sure, there are shows that are more interesting to us than others, but we are happy to watch whatever floats their boat. Lately, it’s been a lot of Supernatural. (Partly because it’s one of the greatest shows ever made, and partly because Mom has a crush on Dean.) But, the point is, they can watch their show as often as they want, for as long as they want. They don’t have to wait until Bella and I go to bed, and they don’t have to spend our waking hours watching Dora the Explorer and The Wiggles. And, as shallow as it sounds, I think there’s something to be said for that.

(Bella would like to add one)

People other than my Mom & Dad are Very Scary. Me no likey people. NO MORE PEOPLE NEED TO LIVE HERE EVER.  

Okay, I’m back. I hope that my list was enlightening. If you already have Human Children and are now like, “Blast, this sucks”, I apologize. I would never want anyone who has already been saddled with the little vermin to get rid of them or anything on my account. My only point is that my Mom & Dad (and Bella & I, for that matter) are still Free And Unaffected By The Things Discussed In The Above List. And I for one would like to keep it that way as long as possible.

So, stop telling them to Hurry Up And Have Children Already. Or I will find you and claw your eyes out with the nails that I’ve been sharpening on their leather couch. You have been warned.

No Offense, But...

You know what bugs me? The phrase, "no offense".

When people preface a statement with "no offense, but...", all I hear is, "I'm about to insult you, but don't get mad at me" (aka: I'm trying to say something douchey without actually sounding like a douche).

Really?

I would much rather someone just say whatever it is they want to say, sans the aforementioned introduction, because then I could at least pretend that they honestly didn't realize that whatever came out of their mouth immediately following said introduction would most likely be interpreted as Mean, Insensitive, Hurtful, Rude, And/Or Highly Offensive. When someone says "no offense, but...", it's like they're saying "It definitely occurred to me that the following statement will most likely be interpreted as Mean, Insensitive, Hurtful, Rude And/Or Highly Offensive but, not only am I going to say it anyway, I'm going to be condescending enough to assume that me telling you not to get offended by it will magically make it less Highly Offensive".

This, of course, also applies to people concluding a Highly Offensive Statement with "no offense". When you were growing up, and you hit another kid with a stick or snatched their toy away or held them down and farted in their face, an adult would always make you say "I'm sorry". It got to the point where you felt like you could get away with anything as long as you followed up the Preposterously Vile Act with a flippant and barely recognizable "Sorry." You remember how it went.

"MOM, he punched me because I wouldn't jump off the roof to see if thinking a Happy Thought will really make you fly."

"But I said sorry!"

"Since you punched your sister, you get no dessert tonight.

"But I SAID SORRY!"

Saying you were sorry was like a Magic Eraser, the "abracadabra" in the disappearing act that made whatever you had just said or done Cease To Exist. Except, it really didn't. Your sister's eye still turned black. The kid who inhaled flatus through all of his facial orifices still puked his guts out. And the kid who got their toy snatched still cried for two hours, even after it had been returned and they been given both a pony and an entire baseball team as consolation.

I'm not saying that kids, and adults, shouldn't apologize when they do something hideous to someone else. They should, especially if they mean it. The point is that you shouldn't do something that you know is mean just because you think you can justify it, or Magically Erase it, by saying you're sorry afterwards. Nor am I saying that it isn't, at times, appropriate and/or necessary to say something to someone that they might find Highly Offensive. I'm just saying that that adding a "no offense" to it does not make it any Less Offensive and, perhaps, makes it even More Offensive than it would have otherwise been, for the reasons previously mentioned.

"No offense, but you're One Of The Most Mind-Bogglingly Annoying People I Know."

"Your singing is so terrible that it actually hurts my feelings. No offense."

"No offense, but you smell like Dog Poo That's Been Sitting In The Sun For Twelve Days."

"You look like a Creepy Mentally Impaired Clown. No offense."

See? It doesn't really work.

I realize that, sometimes, when people preface or conclude a statement with "no offense" what they are trying to say is "despite the fact that I'm telling you something that will most likely be interpreted as Mean, Insensitive, Hurtful, Rude And/Or Highly Offensive, I want you to know that I'm not doing it with the intention of hurting your feelings." This is a nice thought but, let's face it, there is only one person in the entire world who can successfully pull off Saying "No Offense" And Having It Come Across As Not Douchey, and that is my brother, Billy, who happens to be the Sweetest Person In The United States Of America And Possibly The Universe. If you are not my brother, Billy, then you are not allowed to say "no offense" without causing me to experience Obscene Levels Of Annoyance. Just so we're clear.

No offense.

PS: This post is not Me Passive-Aggressively Telling Someone Who Recently Said "No Offense" In My Presence That I Think They're A Douche - I actually just heard the phrase "no offense" about seven different times on T.V. today, while watching Supernatural and Late Nineties Teen Movies, and it got me thinking. It got me thinking.

PPS: Don't worry, I also love my brother Brian - very much, in fact - but, honestly, if he ever made a statement to me that was prefaced or concluded with the phrase "no offense", he would most likely be saying it in a snarky tone with a Giant "I'm Laughing At You On The Inside" Smirk. Let's be real here.

Top Ten Fav's From the Month of July

My Top Ten Fav's from the month of July are, in no particular order, as follows:

1. My Birthday

Happy Birthday to ME. I turned cough29cough this month, and had so much fun celebrating with family and friends! I have not yet decided if my birthday is going to be in my Top Ten Fav's for July 2013 - it depends on how traumatized I am by turning thirty. Someone plan me something uber cool for that birthday, to help take my mind off becoming an OLDLADY and to ensure that my birthday definitely merits a spot in my Top Ten that month.

2. Independence Day

First off, I want to publicly thank Fergie for ensuring that I never forget how to spell any form of the word "independent", ever.

Also, the 4th was a blast. Hubby and I started off the morning with a hike up Humpback Rock, or The Gigantic Mountain That Made Fun Of Me For Being Super Out Of Shape And Hurt My Feelings. Really though, despite it kicking my butt, it was actually a lot of fun and only about an hour round-trip - the view from the top was pretty spectacular too. More importantly, I made a new friend! Some of Anthony's buddies from school hiked with us and, thank the Lord, one of them brought their wife and I had someone to walk at an Incredibly Slow Pace with. Walking at an Incredibly Slow Pace gave Dara and I the opportunity to get to know one another, and she's awesome! So, all in all, the hike was a win. Then, a bunch of us went to a local park with a beach and cooked out and then we went back to our place and played Rock Band 2 (like true Americans) and then we went to watch fireworks. All of which were also a win.

3. I Got A Raise

Not a huge one, but I'll end up with about an extra $75 each month. Of course, it's probably all going onto the Giant Evil Student Loans STOPTAKINGALLOFMYMONIESDAMNYOU but it's still pretty sweet. I've always been a big fan of raises.

4. I Started A Blog

I started a blog! And you're reading it! Right now! I really appreciate all the positive feedback I've gotten from some of you. I started blogging basically just to have an excuse to write, but it makes me so happy to know that other people are able to derive enjoyment from it. Also, to the Woman Whose Cat Made Her Bleed Profusely Because She Was Laughing So Gregariously While Reading My Post About Dog Vomit And Apparently It Freaks The Cat Out To Be Sitting On The Lap Of Someone Who Is Laughing So Gregariously About Dog Vomit Or Anything Else For That Matter: I'm so sorry.

Most awesome picture ever.

5. THIS.

Please note: If the above picture makes no sense to you, refer to item #4 of my July 27th post then return here and commence hysterical laughter.

This is why Faith (pictured above, but not on the shirt - that's me) is my BFF. If you too would like to become the proud owner of your very own Sara Forrest T-shirt (please also refer to my July 27th post for suggestions regarding proper use of the shirt), then you should know that this Stunning Masterpiece was created by the good people at Airbrush Customs. Visit their website at www.airbrushcustoms.net or give them a call at 1 (303) 744-7848 and GET HOOKED UP WITH THIS SHIZ. Also, don't be afraid to think outside the box - hats, onesies, hoodies, and tattoos are also acceptable ways to display this Very Important Information. I don't think they actually do tattoos there, but they might know a guy.

6. Masontasticness

We got to see part of the original Mason clan this past weekend. The Masons are, basically, some of the coolest people on the planet, and we have the kind of unique bond with them that only comes from working alongside someone for Years & Years through the blood, sweat and tears of church ministry.

Also, the patriarch of the Mason clan is Really Really Ridiculously Good-Looking. Obviously.

 Check out their website www.lifeontheverge.com to read about the exciting things they've been doing, and consider helping to support their powerful and kick butt musicianary ministry, Life on the Verge, so that you can also become kick butt.

7. Private Selection's "Southern Red Velvet Cake" Ice Cream

Imagine sex, Michael Buble's voice, and sweatpants combined into ice cream form. It's SO GOOD. I strongly suggest that you travel to your nearest Kroger and procure a carton or twelve. RIGHT NOW. I'll wait.

8. Supernatural, or I Might Actually Be A BAMF But Probably Not

I discovered this month that Supernatural is not a Show That's Way Too Creepy For Sara To Watch. I thought it was. I was wrong. I'm glad to have had this little misunderstanding cleared up because it's really a pretty great show (and I appreciate Dean's sarcasm). It  occured to me that, perhaps, Supernatural really is as creepy as I always thought it was and that I'm just turning into a total BAMF who doesn't mind watching Very Creepy Shows but, really, it probably isn't all that creepy and I was simply being a Very Large Wuss about it before. Maybe.

9. Buffalo Chicken Dip

My friend, Jenn, brought some Buffalo Chicken Dip to my house this month, and it was DELISH. She gave me the recipe and everyone to whom I’ve served it has raved about my Mad Skills In The Kitchen (except I really have no Mad Skills because it's pretty much the easiest thing ever, but shhhh). Here is the recipe in case you too would like to fake having Mad Skills In The Kitchen or just enjoy a super tasty dip that is Very Very Unhealthy (you could make it healthier by using fat-free everything, but why ruin a perfectly good dip? If you're truly worried about it then eat some celery instead, or perhaps a rice cake).

Preheat oven to 375

1 package of cream cheese

2 cans of chunked chicken breast

1 cup of Ranch dressing

1/4-1/2 cup Franks hot sauce (I use 1/2 cup)

2 cups of shredded cheddar cheese (medium or sharp)

Soften cream cheese in the microwave for about 1 minute.

Drain the chicken and add to cream cheese.

Add the Ranch and hot sauce.

Add 1 cup of the shredded cheese.

Combine mixture until everything is mixed together.

Spray the dish with a bit of nonstick spray, Add the dip and cover with the remaining cup of cheese.

Bake in oven for about 10 mins or until the top layer of cheese is melted and bubbly.

10. Juno

I finally bought Juno on DVD. Ellen Page & Michael Cera in the same movie? Duh.

This has been my Top Ten Favorite Things for the month of July. Tune in next month for ten more examples of awesomeness.

Happy August.

Don't Forget: Lock The Door

I did something last night that I never ever do (ever). I went to bed with the door unlocked.

This was not intentional. In fact, it usually stays locked 24/7 because, despite my relatively idyllic childhood, I am Obscenely Paranoid & Untrusting. Even though I know we always keep the door locked I will still normally ask Hubby if he's SURE it is locked (since he's usually the last one home) right before we fall asleep, unless I know for a fact I double checked it myself. And if his answer sounds anything less than 137% confident I will get up and check, even though I detest getting out of bed after I'm already under the covers but I figure it's less horrific than getting murdered. Maybe.

One may deduce from my behavior that we live in a Very Scary Place. According to the Apartment Review Websites you will get shot and killed at least once per week if you are stupid enough to reside in our complex but, personally, I think all that stuff is made up by people trying to cause the complex to lose business because they're bitter about the fact that it takes about 3.87 years to get your broken dishwasher replaced. It's a rather highly-populated complex and, in that respect, I guess the potential for violent crime is increased, but I have lived here a year and in that time have never encountered anyone I had an issue with. Mostly because I Say No To Drugs and keep my door locked 24/7.

The thing is, that particular evening, it didn't occur to me to double check the door before bed, or grill Hubby about it before we fell asleep, so I drifted off in utter peace, completely oblivious to the fact that I was in the midst of a Very Dangerous Situation (dun dun dun). Nothing happened, obviously, and 99 (or even 100) times out 100 it probably wouldn't - but had I known the door was unlocked while I was trying to fall asleep, I would have been a legitimate wreck. How do I know this?

This past year, Hubby would often get up at the Butt Crack Of Dawn to go to PT or something else equally horrible to do at the Butt Crack Of Dawn which is anything other than sleep or eat pie. He was normally good about locking the door behind him and I appreciated this since, as previously mentioned, I wasn't trying to get out from under my covers to go lock the door ordoanythingelseforthatmatter. One particular morning though, as I heard the door open and close, my ears failed to register the click of the deadbolt which was my All Clear Signal and invitation to go back to sleep for another several hours knowing that I was safe and soundin a locked apartment.That's because the deadbolt never turned. I was not in fact safe and sound in a locked apartment - I was in the midst of a Very Dangerous Situation (dun dun dun).


On that particular morning it was exceptionally cold. I toyed with the idea of not getting out of bed to lock the door and just assuming that I was going to be fine. I toyed with it pretty darn hard. No, I thought, I just need to get up and lock it, it will take 30 seconds. That's when my cat, Gabriel, jumped onto the bed, curled up next to me, and started purring. Let me stop here.

I don't know why, but a soft, warm, snuggly, purry kitty cuddling into me while I'm lying in bed is about the Most Relaxing Enjoyable Experience Ever In Life. It puts me under a spell (no, really) and I seriously can't get out of bed (seriously). And, even if I could, Gabriel might have jumped down as well and not felt like coming back up and then I would have missed out on the Most Relaxing Enjoyable Experience Ever In Life. And I couldn't live with that.

This is the predicament I found myself in on that chilly, weekday morning. It was decided that I would not get up to lock the door. As I laid there with Gabriel for a minute or two, becoming further hypnotized by his Purry Voodoo Magic, I thought, "This isn't so bad". I felt like a BAMF of epic proportions. Suddenly, I heard a Strange Noise and my heart started to pound out of my chest. OHMYGOD. Somebody is breaking in RIGHTTHISSECOND (except they don't even have to break in because the DOOR IS ALREADY UNLOCKED for them). I was fairly confident Hubby had taped a giant note to the door that read, "Attention all Thieves, Kidnappers, Murderers, Rapists, Lunatics, Rabid Wolves, Marilyn Manson or anyone else who considers themselves to be Scary Beyond All Reason: There is a Small & Defenseless Woman in here and I forgot to lock the door, so, have it. P.S. We also have Very Ginormous Flatscreen TV that you might be interested in as well." I was utterly and completely petrified. I heard the same noise again and, this time, realized that it was coming from the ceiling. The Elephant People who live above us and Never, Ever Sleep were on the move. Sigh. I had never been so happy to hear them clomping around.

Seconds later, I heard another sound and, this time, it definitely wasn't The Elephant Show. My mind immediately began to race as I attempted to determine what Weapons Of Self Defense I could reasonably access without having to walk past the front door. Anything on the other side of the apartment was out, which meant no knives, frying pans, or couch pillows. I had some pepper spray in my purse, but was my purse in my bedroom or by the front door? There was also, of course, my book of C.S. Lewis quotes/excerpts which is actually the Largest Book Of All Time. And I had nail clippers and tweezers in the bathroom which all of the airlines unanimously agree are Legitimate Weapons. The decision was putting too much pressure on me, so I just I pulled the covers up higher and clutched them around me as tightly as I could. I think we would all agree that bedcovers are basically like having our very own Invisibility Cloak, which is why we think know that being under them will successfully ward off Very Scary People and/or Things. Except I was still freaked out of my mind.

Moments passed. I was both Very Very Sleepy and Unbelievably Jacked-Up On Adrenaline which is a preposterously uncomfortable feeling. I'm fine, I thought. I'm fine. No one else in their right mind is even up this early in the morning. Very Scary People need sleep too. My thoughts were then interrupted by what I could have sworn was the door knob turning. I was paralyzed with fear. My life flashed before my eyes and, in that moment, the Spell lifted from body. With the moves of a jungle cat, I was off the bed and on the other side of the room in one swift, silent motion. I realized that my purse was, indeed, in the bedroom so I grabbed my pepper spray, unlocked it, and poised my finger over the button, prepared to open up a can of whoopass on the Vicious Murdering Rabid Wolf Kidnapping Marilyn Manson Rapist Thief Lunatic. I quickly realized there was no one else in the house but myself and the cats. So, I ran toward the door like my life depended on it (which it, obviously, did), locked the door, and raced back to my bed so quickly that I slammed my leg into the side of it and said a Very Bad Word. Then, I jumped under the covers, pulled them up high, and clutched them around me as tightly as I could. And, finally, now that I was both Invisible and Safe & Sound In A Locked Apartment, I drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Moral of the story: Ignorance is bliss. And, say no to drugs.

How To Make Me A Famous Blogger

It was recently suggested to me, by a new friend, that I quit my job and become a famous full-time blogger because, apparently, I'm That Awesome.

I'm definitely not going to quit my current job until Anthony and I are preparing to relocate to wherever he has to live while attending flight school (it will most likely be either Florida or Ohio - where would I prefer to live? I'll give you a hint: It's not Ohio). But, it got me thinking - once Anthony and I relocate, I will have to find another job (our deal is that I have to work until my student loans are paid off. No, I am not too proud to accept hand-outs - just make the check out to Poor Unfortunate Soul Who Realized Too Late That She Was Paying Way Too Much Money To Go To College And Procure A Really Nice Wall Decoration That Makes Her Look Smart Except She's Not Actually Smart Because If She Was Then She Wouldn't Have Gone To College In The First Place Since She Is Never Going To Use Her Degree Ever And Even If She Was It Was Still Way Too Much Money. You may have to write kind of small).

Since I will have to procure another job then anyway, becoming a Famous Blogger by that point in my life just seems like best way to go.

With that in mind, I have compiled a list of ways that you can help make me a Famous Blogger by the aforementioned deadline. I'm giving you at least two years' notice, so I don't see any reason why you can't make this happen.

1. Share the link to my blog (or the links to posts that you particularly enjoy) on Facebook every hour on the hour. Then, switch it up the next day and share them every hour on the half hour. Then, go back to on the hour and so on. This will help maximize the amount of people who see your posts.

2. Send out a mass email and a mass text to everyone on your contact list, containing the info for accessing my blog. Have them reply with a message that states what their favorite flavor of Pringles is, in order to verify that they both received and read your message containing this Very Important Information. Keep a running list of those who message you back - on the following day, re-send the message to those who have not messaged you back. Repeat this process once per day until everyone in your contacts has responded. Use a subject line that's sure to get people's attention, such as "I think I found your Aardvark".

3. Take out the phone book and start calling people. I would suggest either starting in the A's and working your way forward, or in the Z's and working your way backward. Given the fact that there are a lot of numbers listed in the phone book, if you start to realize that you're not getting anywhere with a particular person then just hang up and move on to the next one. I know you have two years, but that's no reason to use your time inefficiently.

4. Make a T-shirt with my picture and the web address for my blog on it (in Large Bold Font). I would suggest wearing this T-shirt once per week, switching up the day each time (ex. first week - Monday, second week - Tuesday, and so on.) When you get to Sunday, just start over with Monday again the next day. Doing it this way means that the people at your Wednesday Spots will be just as likely to see the shirt as the people who frequent your Friday Spots. Here is a picture you can use for the shirt.

5. Photobomb other people's pictures while wearing your shirt. You could also keep a travel-sized handmade sign with you that you can hold up in case the blog address on the shirt will be obstructed by something else in the photo.

6. Write a song about me and my blog. Make sure "saraforrest(dot)blogspot(dot)com" is in the song a minimum of twelve times. Find someone who can record this song onto a cd for you (make sure the singer(s) annunciate well). Once you have an acceptable cd recording of this song in your possession, assemble a large group of friends together to do a flash mob in a well-populated public area. I would suggest making the T-shirts with my picture and blog address on them prior to doing the flash mob, so that everybody can wear one during the performance.

7. People Who Fly Around In Planes All Day always get left out of cool stuff, like watching flash mobs, so you should go to a beach and spell out the address for my blog in rocks or seashells or whatever for those guys to see.

8. If you're a Person Who Flies Around In Planes All Day then you may be thinking, the above suggestion was very considerate of you, but what if I actually want to help get the word out? I'm so glad you asked - fly around in a giant blimp displaying the address for my blog. If you would like to paint a picture of me on the side of the aircraft, for added effect, please refer to item #4.

9. Go to a pet store and teach all the parrots to say "Check out saraforrest(dot)blogspot(dot)com". In the interest of maximizing your success with the parrots, you may want to come with a pocket full of crackers. Parrots like crackers.

10. Anytime you are in a public restroom stall and do not see "For a good time, go to saraforrest.blogspot.com" on one or more of the walls and/or the stall door, rectify this immediately. You may want to keep a sharpie on you at all times, simply for this purpose. I would suggest both a black and silver option, because you never know what color stall you're going to find yourself in.

11. Patronize various stores and/or businesses that sell devices such as Magnadoodles and Etch-a-Sketches, or have unattended whiteboards/chalkboards, and write Very Important Information about myself and my blog on them.

12. Leave a one word status on facebook, stating what color underwear you were wearing the day Britney Spears shaved her head bald. As we all know, the One Word Undergarment Color On Your Status method has already proven to be Monumentally Successful in raising awareness of Very Important Things, such as cancer and child abuse. I'm not sure, but I think it's mostly because of how Not Vague it is.

13. Bribe people with Lindor Chocolate Truffles. Trust me.

So, this is my list of ideas for making me a Famous Blogger. I welcome any and all photo documentation or video footage of you carrying out any of the suggestions on the above list. Who knows, I may even send you some truffles as an expression of my gratitude.

If you have any ideas for making me a famous blogger that are so amazeballs they make mine look Lame & Stupid, please share with the rest of the class.



Happy Friday.

Attack of the Hot Lava Dog Vomit

I am a nanny for a wonderful family with a dog. Oribi is an extremely sweet Labradoodle who loves playing, napping, going for walks, having her butt scratched, and fishing food droppings from the seat of the high chair. And also throws up sometimes. Attending to this when necessary has never been an Issue Of Monumental Proportions. Being a pet owner myself, and especially a nanny, I am exceedingly accustomed to having to rid my surrounding area of vomitrocious disgusting crap, such as vomit, diarhhea, urine, snot, drool, unwanted bodily fluids. Today, however, did not bring with it an Ordinary Amount Of Bodily Fluids That Needed To Be Cleaned Off Of Wherever They Happened To Land - today brought all that it could carry...and then some.

I arrived this morning to learn that Oribi had recently vomited in one of the upstairs bedrooms - no big deal. A couple of hours later, while we were in the playroom, she threw up again. Whatevs, it happens - a little Pepto, Ginger Ale, and Saltines, and she'd be good as new. This, however, was not the case.

Fast forward several hours. The kids are upstairs napping and I'm in the living room mindlessly entertaining myself and enjoying a break from the sound of my name. (You know the phrase, "that's my name, don't wear it out"? I'm relatively positive that some nanny, somewhere, coined it. And I'm pretty sure mine is actually worn out.) Anyway, there I was, completely engrossed in a magazine article on how to find the most flattering shoe for my foot shape, when Oribi wanders into the living room and steps onto the oriental rug. "Hi, Oribi", I say, as I reach my hand out offering to scratch her butt. She takes one step toward me, then stops in her tracks and starts heaving. At that moment, two thoughts enter my head: 1) I wouldn't have pegged myself as a pointy-toed shoe person, because my foot is already pretty narrow - maybe I should go back and read the first part of that article again to see if I misunderstood something. 2) Dog vomit + oriental rug = OHCRAP. I leap off the couch and rush to her side, gently but firmly trying to guide her off of the rug so that whatever comes up will land on the hard floor. After several seconds, I switched from Gentle Yet Firm to GETOFFTHISEFFINGRUGNOW (as much as could be done without hurting with her, at least) but she wasn't budging, and I sure as HEdoublehockeysticks wasn't strong enough to pick her up, so the situation seemed Inevitably Disastrous. As I stood there, trying to hear myself think over the sound of her dry heaving, it suddenly came to me - if I went to the kitchen and grabbed a paper plate, I could have her blow her cookies onto that and the rug could escape unharmed. Instantly, I took off toward the kitchen like a deranged cheetah swift-legged gazelle to apprehend the paper plate. With lightning speed, I fished it out of the cabinet and headed back towards the (potential) scene of the crime. The veryexactprecise second I darkened the doorway, clutching my green and white flowered Circle of Salvation, I saw the vomit drop onto the rug with a mocking "SLOP" sound. I stood there for a brief moment, looking back and forth between the plate and the vomit. Really?

Oh well, no use crying over spilled barf - the deed had been done; I decided to quickly use the bathroom before I started cleaning it up. Upon exiting the restroom, I was greeted by Oribi and three more piles of vomit - one on the high chair mat and two on the kitchen floor. Sigh. But, it wasn't her fault, and I really did feel bad for her. I decided to clean the rug first. I went and got the cleaner out from under the kitchen sink and made my way back to the living room, carefully avoiding the gigantic piles of Hot Lava Dog Vomit. I got the excess off of the rug with a paper towel and went to spray the cleaner, but nothing would come out. I realized it was practically empty, but had seen another bottle next to it in the cabinet. I got up and made my way back through the kitchen, examining the bottle (aka: not looking at the floor) as I went. Suddenly, I felt something cold and mushy under my left foot. I was desperately hoping that I had been bitten by some radio-active gelatin during the night and was now involuntarily manifesting my new ability to shoot Jell-o out of my feet. This, however, was not the case. I looked down, and my worst fears were confirmed - I had dog vomit all over the bottom of my foot; chunks and all. After cleaning up my own vomit, I washed off my foot, the rug (it was fine so no worries), the mat, and the floor and, thank goodness, Oribi didn't throw up again after that.

But, I still think it would be the shiz to be able to shoot Jell-o out of my feet.


Happy Monday.

Reflections on Aging, or Thirty Is The New One-Hundred

The term "old" is relative. A person who has been alive for ninety-five years, when the average human lifespan is only around eighty, could be considered old. A child of six years, who is still breastfeeding (WUTthecrap), could be considered old. And, a plus-sized woman of forty-five, who is convinced that she still looks just as Hawt in that neon tube top and spandex capri number as she did (?) in 1986, could be considered old. Age is just a number, they say - all that matters is how young you feel, right? Well, I am neither ninety-five, a Too Sexy For A Whole Outfit middle-aged woman, or a first-grader who thinks the terms 'straw' and 'nipple' are interchangable (didImentionWUTthecrap) - even so, lately, I have found myself afflicted with fleeting but alarmingly vivid moments of OHMYGOSHTHEAGINGMAKEITSTOP.

The feeling was comfortably sporadic until this month, when I had my 29th birthday - then, quite suddenly, it morphed into A Dilemma Of Epic Proportions. I am twenty-nine. TWENTYNINE. Which wouldn't be so disheartening in and of itself, but can only mean that the time is becoming increasingly imminent when I will be officially booted from the Twenty-Something club and, thus, required to relinquish all perks that come with its highly exclusive membership. (Except the jacket. They told me I could keep the jacket). The Twenties, it seems, is a particularly agreeable decade of life to find yourself in. Most people younger than that want to hurry up and get to their Twenties. Most people older than that would like to still be in their Twenties. The way I see it, it's because, as a Twenty-Something, you are basically old enough to do whatever the frack you want but still young enough to be generalized into an age group of people whose newest members were a teenager the year prior. It's the best of both worlds. It doesn't matter if you're twenty or twenty-nine, you are still a Twenty-Something - you are both young and adult. You are a Young Adult, the shizziest kind of paradox.

And here's where my Dilemma Of Epic Proportions comes in. Once I make the plunge into The Thirties, I will no longer be a Young Adult but will be magically transformed into a Real Live Adult. This is a matter of great concern.

For one thing, I'm already (usually) the oldest person present when the hubby and I hang out with a group of friends because, socially, I am not twenty-nine. For the most part, we end up hanging out with People Who Also Do Not Have Kids - this isn't necessarily on purpose, it just works out that way (thoughIhavetoadmitIdon'tmind). And, normally, those people are early to mid-twenties since, of course, many women have had their first child by the time they're on the brink of thirty (Idon'twannayoucan'tmakeme). Which is fine, since I am presently also a Twenty-Something, but what happens next year when all I have left of my Twenties is a cool jacket and some sweet tattoos? Will I be too old for my current social circles? It's not like I can just up and join a Mommy & Me group to make friends with Other Old People because, apparently, cats don't count as children WHYDON'TCATSCOUNT.

Also, does this mean I can no longer openly enjoy things that could be considered Somewhat Juvenile? The other day at Staples I bought a journal with a big picture of a kitty cat on the front of it - I needed a journal and I heart cats, so it seemed like a logical decision. And, one afternoon this week, I came home from work and watched The Emperor's New Groove (aka: Funniest Disney Movie Of All Time), by myself. When I was a teenager I would not have admitted to such things because, at that age, you still feel like you have to prove to people (including yourself) that you are Mature & Grown-Up. You opt for the journal with the plain leather cover and pass up the Disney cartoon for something Serious & Deep, because it makes you feel (and look, you hope) More Adult. You choke down coffee around other people, and are constantly burdened by an irrational fear that someone will discover you still wear Tweety Bird pajamas to bed. The Twenties are great, because you no longer have to do (or not do) anything to make yourself feel or look like the adult that you actually aren't - because, at long last, you are an Adult. You can wear silly clothes and read Twilight and listen to nothing but Justin Beiber all day and it doesn't matter - you are still (technically) an Adult. You don't have to prove anything to yourself or those around you, you don't have to do anything to make it more legit; it is what it is. But, how does it work in your Thirties? Does the stuff that you could shamelessly get away with in your Twenties suddenly become Weird & Off-Putting? Did I just buy my last kitty cat journal? These are the things I contemplate.

I'm convinced that when people are meandering between twenty-nine and thirty they switch into Dog Years Mode and actually age seven times faster than they have prior or ever will again. Which would explain why thirty is SO MUCH OLDER than twenty-nine (and why I've suddenly started to find it wickedly amusing to chase my cats around the house). But since this looming fate is, unfortunately, inevitable, I have decided to try to find the silver lining in my Cloud Of Calamity, and have come up with several reasons why being in my thirties might be (almost) as cool as being in my twenties (maybe).

1. "Peak"-a-Boo

I recently read somewhere that, statistically, women are perceived as their Most Attractive when they are thirty-one. Great, that takes care of one year.

2. I Don't Look My Age, or The Curious Case of Benjamin Button Except My Name Isn't Benjamin Button But Other Than That

Despite my Shockingly Old Age, I actually look like I'm about seventeen (true story: last year, I got mistaken for a freshman in high school - two different times. Thanks?). Normally, when people whom I'm meeting for the first time find out how old I am they are visibly flabbergasted. The conversation usually goes something like this:

Me: "My husband blahblahblah".
Them: "Oh, you're married? ...Really?"
Me: "Yes...?"
Them: "How long have you been married?" (expecting me to say, "oh, about five minutes")
Me: "Four years."
Them: "OH, wow! Um...how old were you when you got married?"
Me: "Thirteen, why? (Basically) twenty-five."
Them: "Wait...what? HOW old are you?"

And so on. Whatevs, it's been happening for as long as I can remember, and it used to bother me - but can you imagine how much funnier it will be when I can tell people, "Oh yeah, I'm thirty." The shock factor will be increased by exponential proportions (since thirty sounds/is in fact SOMUCHOLDER than twenty-nine), and I might derive even more amusement from it than I have from chasing my cats around the house this past month.

3. That's all I've got, sorry. But, if you have anything else I can add to the list, I'm all ears. Hurry though, because my ears may not be working much longer. You know, old age and all.

                                                   Happy Thursday.

The Eight Deadly Sins of Facebook

(Disclaimer: Even if you know you do something(s) mentioned in the list below, I promise I don't hate you. The majority of us have probably all been guilty of at least one of these things in one instance or another, and this is all in good fun. There. Glad we got that out of the way.)

We all know them. Maybe some of us, at one point or another, have even been One of Them. You know who I'm talking about - that person whose Facebook posts are so obnoxious that we keep them on our friends list either because we know if we delete them it will be become A Thing (thank you, Unsubscribe button), or because we still want to be able to see their posts so we can laugh about them and pat ourselves on the back for being cool enough to know better than to post such Ridiculous & Unnecessary Material on our social network of choice (hold on, I'll be right back, I need to update my status so everyone knows what flavor of food my cats had for supper).

Okay, I'm back. Anyway, the truth of the matter is, each person has the right to post whatever they want on their own Facebook page - it's their page, and they aren't forcing anyone to be on their friends list and, thus, expose themselves to any unwanted viewing material (unless, of course, it's their boyfriend/girlfriend, because if they can't put that they're "in a relationship" with that person then, really, is there any solid foundation for said relationship to build on in the first place? I think not). The point is, if someone doesn't like what you post on your page, they don't have to be subscribed to your posts, or even be on your friends list for that matter (in most cases) - but, really, who wants to be That Person Everyone Is Unsubscribed From Because They Might Possibly Be The Most Annoying Person Ever On Facebook ?

In light of this undesirable fate that is currently afflicting countless of people across the nation, and around the world, I have compiled a list of the Eight Deadly Sins of Facebook (I know the Bible only had seven deadly sins but it's Facebook and, yes, it's That Serious). As you read through the following items, pause to reflect on whether you recognize yourself in one or more (all? shudder.) of them and, then, know that those of us on The Other Side are rooting for you should you seek to make some positive changes in your future Facebook activity. Or, if you don't find yourself recently guilty of any of the transgressions listed below, just enjoy chuckling at the people who will most surely pop into your head, and consider educating them on Proper Social Network Etiquette by sharing this post with them at your earliest convenience.

I may want to unsubscribe from/block/delete you after being tempted to stick Something Sharp & Unpleasant in my eye if you are a repeat offender in one or more of the following areas:


1. Drama

An obvious one, albeit, but it has to be said. No one needs to relive middle school or high school and, if we really want to, that's what DeGrassi is for. Savethedramaforyourmama or your Teen Angst-Ridden Television Series of choice.


2. TMI

"TMI", in this case, suggests one of two things. It can either mean "Wow, I'm not sure I wanted to know all the intimate details of your cousin's STD, but thanks.", or it can mean, "I wonder if she's alright, because she hasn't updated her status in about 15 minutes and I'm now slightly concerned. Let me give her a cal--oh, wait, never mind--she just posted something." Regardless, it always means TOO MUCH INFORMATION. Keep the private, intimate details of your life how they're supposed to be (hint: private & intimate), and resist the urge to alert the media every time you, your kid, yo mama, yo daddy, or yo bald headed granny even remotely change activities. It's not that serious.



3. Attention Whoring

You are definitely might be an Attention Whore if you have posted a status similar to one or more of the following in the recent past:

"I just uploaded 197 pics of myself, COMMENTS PLS!!!" When you consider the amount of time it requires to take 197 'acceptable' mirror pics with your cell phone, upload them all to Facebook, and put a Dashboard Confessional lyric caption under each one, it seems like it would make more sense just to skip all the aforementioned steps and post something like, "Hey, I'm feeling a little insecure today, so if you could leave a comment under this status telling me how cute/gorgeous/pretty/beautiful/hot/bootilicious you think I am, that would be swell." Honest and to the point, plus, not having to scroll through A Mind-Bogglingly Excessive Amount Of Duck Lips Self-Portraits saves everyone precious time that they can use to watch Mad Men episodes on Netflix. We all win.

"I don't think I have a lot of true friends on here who actually read my posts so, if you are really my friend, 'like' this post, leave a comment underneath saying what you ate for breakfast the day that you met me, then repost this status. For those of you who don't, I'll know where I stand with you (aka: the next time I see you I'll be super awkward and stand-offish and will refuse to tell you what's bothering me when you ask because, really, how could you not know)."


"I just can't take it anymore. I've hit rock bottom. Things can't get any worse. Don't ask what's going on and, no, I don't wanna talk about it - it's way too personal and, besides, I don't want the attention." If you don't want to talk about it, and you don't want anyone to know about it, then what was the point of posting it in the first place? Oh right, because you "don't want the attention".

"I'm so bored" (...7 minutes later...) "Still SO bored" (...5 minutes later...) "SO SO SO bored" (...3.5.minutes later...) "NEVER BEEN SO BORED IN MY WHOLE LIFE" (...2.14 minutes later...) "Still bored" (...etc..) Cool story, bro. Tell it again.

"I can't believe that happened at work today!" or "Totally didn't see this one coming..." or "I wish I could take it back." etc. aka: I am purposely omitting crucial information from my status in hopes of procuring some warm & fuzzy comments from Concerned Friends because, apparently, I don't realize how obvious and sad that is. aka: "Vaguebooking"



4. Excessive Political Propaganda

I get that People Who Are Into Politics often feel very passionately about their opinions, especially in the case of a presidential election. It is a big deal, and the way that other people vote will ultimately affect you since you will have to sit under whichever president is elected just like everyone else will. And, Facebook really is a great platform to utilize when you want to make Very Important Information available to 473 of your closest friends all at once. Thatbeingsaid. I do not need, nor desire, to see 27 posts per day related to your political candidate of choice (this is including but not limited to statuses, video clips, and Catchy Campaign Slogans underneath Epic-Looking Pictures of their head photo-shopped onto a bald eagle) which may or may not be accompanied by 27 more posts that talk about all the reasons why the opposing candidate is The Devil (along with foosball, Ben Franklin, and little girls, of course). If I want to see An Unnecessary Amount of Political Propaganda Squeezed Into The Tiniest Block Of Time Possible then I'll watch something on Hulu, thankyouverymuch.

I'm Sara Forrest, and I approve this message.


5. Old Skool Txt Tlk

Typing lk this is gr8 & all but cn get ann0ying after a whl 2 th0se who hv 2 read it. D0n't u c h0w this c0uld b irritating if sum1 d0es it ALLthetime? D0ing it in a txt msg or on a lcnse plate is 1 thing but when ur typing sumthing out on the internet it's m0re asthetically pleasing 2 others if u just type ur w0rdz out nrmlly, w/ all the ltrs present & acc0unted 4. Jst syn k? L8r.


6. Manipulative 'Share This If You Love Jesus Otherwise You Are Declaring To The Entire (Facebook) World That Satan Is Your Homeboy' Statuses and/or Pictures.

I have no beef with someone 'liking' Jesus on Facebook. I also take no issue with someone posting a "Share This If Jesus Is Your Superhero!" picture of a cartoon Jesus sporting a superman-esque "JC" on his not very superman-esque robe. People 'like' and show support for things on FB all the time (Chick Fil-A, Amazon...Nickelback), and neither of the two examples mentioned above are things meant to manipulate or induce guilt in anyway. But, let's get one thing straight. I do not I repeat do not have to validate my relationship with and/or love for Jesus by reposting a manipulative status or a picture of him crying on a unicorn with the text for Mathew 10:32 beneath it in Large & Intimidating Font, and if you truly believe otherwise then that's your issue, not mine. To be honest, if my relationship with him was really based on such shallowness and not on, you know, stuff that actually matters, I'm not sure I would hold it in very high regard anyhow so, either way, I'mnotrepostingthedamnthingthanks. Luckily for me, Jesus doesn't give a rat's derriere about all that poppy cock, mostly because he's too busy wanting us to share his message in a way that's relevant, effective, and Not Weird.

All this to say, if you happen to post something like that at any point in the future and notice that I am online at the time but have neglected to repost, don't waste any valuable energy worrying about the state of my soul. I'm alright. But, since it would be rude to completely ignore your post, I will be sharing this picture in response:

7. Make-Out Pictures

One word: Thatisunnecessarynottomentiondisgustingwhereisyourmother


8. Sending Multiple Game App Requests To People Who Don't Play The Game

I get sending a request to a non-player the first time. Maybe they've never heard of the game before and would possibly enjoy it, or maybe they've been meaning to check it out but keep forgetting, and then when they see your request they're all, "How convenient. I've been meaning to check this game out, but keep forgetting". This is perfectly acceptable to do - once or twice. If you've sent multiple (aka: daily) requests that have been ignored or declined, then it's probably safe to assume that person is not interested. And for the love of all that is holy, if you see that I do not play Farmville, do not send 17 different requests asking me to till your dang field or buy you a cow. You shouldn't even be permitted to send app requests like that to people who don't play the game. PLEASESTOP.



So, those are my Eight Deadly Sins of Facebook. Is there anything you would add to or remove from the list if it was yours? Inquiring minds want to know.

Happy Facebooking, and Happy Tuesday.

Top Ten Fav's From the Month of June

Top Ten Favorite Things from the Month of June:

 1. Anthony Returning From Field Training, or The Day I Got My Sanity Back

These ten things are in no particular order but, if they were, this one would still be numero uno. Anthony was gone for four weeks (or a month, whichever sounds longer and more heart wrenching)  at Air Force ROTC Field Training or, as I like to call it, the Evil Land Of No Phone Or Internet Access. Field Training is basically a place where officer trainees get to apply some of what they've learned thus far in the program, get a taste of what it's like to be deployed, and prove they have what it takes to hack it as an officer in United States Air Force. And that they can shower, eat a full meal, get their living quarters inspection-ready, and run five miles in exactly 90 seconds while being screamed at by Scary Guys in Intimidating Sunglasses. I was really glad he had such a great time, but ohdearLordImissedthatman. Having him home again has literally been the greatest thing since boxed mac & cheese and I also learned I am actually his fourth wife, an oversight I'm glad has been brought to light after all this time.

2. Long Weekend in G-town       

While Anthony was gone I went to Gloucester for a long weekend and got to see lots of family & friends. I also scored some great maxi dresses for $15 bucks at TJ Maxx and got served by the Hottest Waiter Ever at Red Robin.

3. My Nephew Was Born

This blessed event happened to take place during my long weekend in Gloucester (yayayay) but it deserved it's own place in the Top Ten, for obvious reasons (Hottest Waiter Ever declined the slot). Drayden Reed graced us with his presence about 7:00 on Saturday morning, June 2, after a sleepless night of hospital chairs, vending machine snacks, and ohmygoshWHYdidwegethereat2AM. And, thanks to my rebel mother, who told the doctor that the hospital could take their No Filming the Birth In Case We Do Something Stupid rule and feed it to their donkey, there is now video evidence of the whole shebang.      

 Now's the part where you get to admire how cute my nephew is.

4. "Heaven Is Here"

My MIL gave me a great book she had recently finished called "Heaven is Here", a memoir written by Stephanie Nielsen (mother of four and only a few years older than me), who was in a small plane crash with her husband and sustained burns over 80 (yes, EIGHTY) percent of body Her story recounts the details of her idyllic life leading up to the crash, her physically and emotionally harrowing recovery process, and how she was able to find her joy again. It was one of those books that I finished in about a minute because it was hard to put down, and I recommend it to anyone looking for a good, easy read or for something to make themselves realize how lame most of the stuff they complain about really is and how many seemingly insignificant (though, actually, Highly Significant) things they take for granted on a daily basis. Yajerks.

5. Aeropostale Polos

 Aeropostale had their polos marked way down because, apparently, they're a Fall Item but, being the rebel that I am (thanks, Mom), I decided I would rock some this summer. Not only did they have basically every color ever created by God or man, they had several different styles AND they actually rang up lower than the marked clearance price, which was already very acceptably low imo. An Interesting Thing I discovered whilst trying them on was that the large (this is not a typo) actually fit more to my liking than a medium or small, which pretty much never happens with any item of clothing ever because I am destined to be eternally housed in the body of a twelve year-old. Granted, I'm a lessthanayearawayfrom30 year-old who was shopping at store designed for People Who May Or May Not Be Old Enough To Drive but, still, it was weird. Anyway though, the shirts are great and I love how polos can give a casual look a slightly sharper, sportier edge without it looking like you're trying. And, without it being painfully obvious that you still shop at stores whose target age demographic you exceeded about 10 or 15 years ago.

 6. "Snow White & the Huntsman"

Here are my thoughts on SW&TH:
- I really enjoyed the landscapes/scenery, special effects/cinematography in general, and minor characters such as the Band Of Dwarves, the Fairytaleish Woodland Creatures, and the Weirdass Mirror.
- Charlize Therone makes a BAMF wicked queen.
- One word: eyecandyofthemalepersuasiontimestwo
- It was fun to compare Kristen Stewart's Snow White to her Bella Swan - and, really, not that difficult.

7. Sperrys

OHMYSperrys. I had never owned a pair of Sperrys prior to last month, but I do now and I love them LOVETHEM. Plus, I now fit perfectly into the college town I hail from, where "Do you own or are you planning to soon purchase one or more pairs of Sperry foot ware?" is one of the first questions on the university's admissions application.

8. Library Card

I got a LIBRARY CARD. Commonly used to CHECK OUT BOOKS FROM THE LIBRARY and READ THEM FOR FREE. How I managed to live here this long without procuring one of these devices is beyond me but, since the situation has been rectified, I guess it doesn't really matter. Now I can read All The Books and, hey, do you know who Library Card's initials remind me of?

9. Season Premiers, or Vampires + Gordon Ramsey = A Bloody Good Time

The answer to #8's trivia question is none other than Alcide (pronounced, basically, like LC), one of True Blood's most eligible werewolves. True Blood's 5th season premiered in June, and things are already hella crazy in Bon Temps. Master Chef & Hell's Kitchen (both Gordon Ramsey shows) also had season premiers air last month and I love that they are still showing new episodes of each one back to back two days in a row. If I had to compare Gordon as a Master Chef judge to an original AI judge, I would say he's Randy (Joe & Graham are definitely Simon & Paula, respectively), but on Hell's Kitchen, he's just Very Scary. I love him and his Very British Accent on both shows, although Master Chef is my favorite show between the two.
                         

                             




10. Community, or We're The Only Species On Earth That Observes Shark Week
I'm sure that, with all these great long-time favorite shows coming back around last month, one would assume that I had no time with which to discover any new material for my viewing pleasure. Ha. Enter, Community, a sitcom about a group of unlikely friends from the same community college Spanish class that band together during a fake study group meeting. I don't know what to say, you just have to watch it. We've been watching it on Hulu.              

                                             

Anyway, those were my Top Ten Things from the month of June, as best as I could recall them. Stay tuned for July's Top Ten next month.

Happy Friday the 13th. Here is a picture of a black cat to make all you superstitious people feel super uncomfortable.

Gabriel