New favorite blog.


Because I don't spend enough of my time reading blogs, here's another to add to the list. So far I've read about her drinking games at bad movies, and her saved text messages. Good grief, she's hilarious. Her name is Sarah, and she's a friend of Dooce (Heather). Here's a snippet for you of bad-movie-drinking-games:

"This movie was hands down THE BEST worst movie I’ve ever seen, like someone crammed three movies into one hole and just let it fester and burn. And it totally burned; everything in this movie burns, including a fiery moose that was screaming and bucking like a bronco, and definitely the highlight for all three of us. This movie was so awful that we didn’t have to worry about bothering anyone by drinking and laughing; the entire theater was laughing as well, and Chris started a slow clap at the end that caught on and I would have totally bought a round for everyone in there because we all earned it...

This movie also inspired Tracie and me to decorate a room in our homes as the Crazy Room, that tiny room they always discover in movies where the crazy person has been holed up, covering the walls with articles cut out from newspapers, and it’s always SO SCARY OH MY GOD NEWSPRINT EVERYWHERE EVERYWHERE. I think it’d be a fresh new direction in interior design, a bold change from all of this current mid-century clean lines mixed with occasional quirky antlers business; just a small, poorly lit room wallpapered with curling, yellowing articles, a rickety card table and a jar of questionable amber liquid, maybe some bowls of fingernail clippings here and there. We’ll put Etsy out of business with this shit. You should come over."

What I would GIVE to be this funny. And here's a bit from when she saw He's Just Not That Into You:

"There was this one great scene, though, when Jennifer Aniston had to walk a dog down the aisle in a coral satin bridesmaid dress, smirking and hurting, head held high. Man but America sure does like Jennifer Aniston to do our hurting for us, don’t we? Nick said she’s like our Princess Di, which makes sense to me, because America seems to love her best when she’s all fragile and dumped and blonde and brave facing it on a beach somewhere. There was a time about a year ago when we were still in dark days as a nation, no hope or end in sight, when I remember thinking that maybe the one thing that could cure America’s pain was for Jennifer Aniston to give birth to a fat blonde baby. Maaaan wouldn’t that have been some ointment for our national wounds! But God forbid she display any sarcasm; I read some article recently where she namechecked some of Brad and Angelina’s litter when one reporter too many asked her about them, and then you could feel America be like okay whoa whoa WHOA, Aniston, don’t be a freaky stalker who knows Shiloh’s name. Even though everyone else knows Shiloh’s name. In your place, missy. Which is apparently walking a dog down the aisle while crying on the inside. That’s where we like you."

And best of all, some of her saved text messages, my favorites in bold:

"I have champagne in my bra right now.

You know what I just realized, this place isn’t about ribs, it’s about having a good time.

It’s been decided that the creepiest way to wake up would be to Art Garfunkel crying softly into your hair.

It’s 2:00 am and I really had to concentrate to find the colon. Hey-o! That’s what she said!

I’m watching the Today Show and I just realized, I hate white people.

Are you pimping me out to the U.S. Navy now?

So I don’t know if “Brazilian wax” means different things to different people or something but oh my god help me.

I’m drunk on a Monday, so it feels like you should be here.

I think I held onto 16 as long as I could.

I am medium rare well. I only date astronauts now. I like my men grimy with lunar soil. What’s up?

Two new deviant sex acts discovered this evening: a dutch baby and the James Van der Beek.

Valhalla, are you co-ming?

You were right. I made out in a Volvo before June 1.

This morning, in bed: “Around 5 am, I hid some plastic eggs around the room for you. One has a $50 Chili’s gift card inside, so, you know.”

Fuck a shark or shoot your mom?

The rules are: shark is in water, not sedated, and you have to shoot your mom in the face if you do.

Because she was dumped at the prom by ENIAC

Why is eating Taco Bell alone just so sad?

I’m at Cracker Barrel and I just realized, I hate white people.

I want to organize a small get-together, just you, me, Mr. Bear, Grandma Lightbulb, James, and that balloon kid.

Remember when guys used to part their hair?

The dude whose dad fought the monkey is coming!

No, I vote dick in real life.

Band of Horses and M.Ward have both played on the plane while boarding. When did Natalie Portman buy Delta?

You and your witchcraft!

Something terrible just happened involving the purple underwear in my bag and the exec editor of the NY Times.

Texting in the bathtub: would Mr. Wizard approve? There’s your answer.

I need to find a way to let my mom know that people aren’t supposed to say “oriental” anymore.

Have spent the past two hours trying to book a hotel in Paris. None of them have Looney Tunes sheets, what’s that about?

My entire neighborhood has been swallowed by Sam Ronson’s vagina.

Can five people make one baby together?

You’re the new you! Mary J. Blige and I watch proudly like Obi Wan and Yoda at end of RotJ

Speedo, Kenny Rogers, mistletoe

Dreaming of cow stomach lining while sitting awkwardly on a salmon colored ottoman amid a sea of off-white silk. Sigh.

This is not an email you ever want to receive. From my mom, full text: What would you think about Dad buying a pet crematory?

I’m at a Chipotle in Chelsea and I would love to tell you that I just realized I hate white people, but I’m actually the only white person in here.

What can I say, I love a widow’s peak and an internet porn addiction.

Nothing says euro tourists like two guys walking down the street in brown leather jackets drinking tiny grape juices.

I’m keeping it. It works like velcro and makes the kids stay there.

If I were a gypsy, I’d be a grandmother by now.

And… I’m in love with you…

You should let your fingerprints grow back, just to be safe."

My stomach hurts. Laughing is my form of sit-ups (which clearly works like A DREAM).


Allie said...

H. shit, she's hilarious!

Maryann said...

Seriously! She's inspired me to be more random and frequent in my texting.