Archive | February, 2009

Pu-Pu Platter Post

You know, it’s just like, one day, you’re all just boppin’ around in your life and moanin’ about how sucky everything is, and the next day, you find out that your coworker was arrested by the FBI for submitting a threat against the President.  And, ya know, ain’t that just a kick in the teeth?


I’m in the stylist’s chair yesterday and I mention casually that my son has a foot deformity.  My stylist, naturally, inquires about the nature of the deformity, and I launch into the entire saga of the Lucky Foot.  She listens quietly as I begin talking about the impending leg-legthening procedure.. something that still haunts me, even the THOUGHT of it.. and she says, “Well, the reason I asked is because I was born with foot deformities, too.  On both feet.  They said I would never walk.  And that, honey, was 30 some odd-years ago, so don’t EVER feel like you can’t overcome something.”

So there.


Even though we didn’t buy a single thing, the hours The Real Housewives of Huntsville spent shopping yesterday made me feel like the richest woman in the world.  I think Bravo should TOTALLY televise us, and we could have the tagline, “It doesn’t TAKE a rocket scientist.. but it helps.”


I waited a full 48 hours in order to avoid spoiling TiVo viewers, but can I just gush about my love of Carla on Top Chef and how I was SO pulling for her?  And completely sodomized I felt when they gave the title to, not even Stefan who has the chops to back it up, but.. HOSEA?  Whose only success on the show was being the douchiest soul-patch loser to cheat on his girlfriend with the crazy-you-knew-was-gonna-skank-it-up?

Carla initially did not win my love because.. well.. she was a bit too quirky for me.  I know.  I KNOW.  But then I realized she reminded me of someone.. someone I really, really love..

Do you see it?!

I kid, but seriously, I do adore her.  Her quirky “Hoo-dee-HOOS” made their way into my soul like a siren’s song, and then she made gumbo.  I was hooked.  She cooked with love, and as she cultivated that, the judges quit laughing about that phrase and realized.. hey.. it’s actually quite possible to TASTE love.

Thank you, Carla.  I’ll eat your love anytime.

.. wait a minute ..


Fabio, I’ll eat your love anytime.  ANYTIME.


The Binja got tired of the baby gate last night and ripped the sucker down.  I forgot about it until I crawled into bed, and a certain someone joined me.

I don’t condone this sort of thing, you know.  You can see the look of disapproval on my face.

But it’s hard to argue with those eyes.


I just came to the realization that I have had NO caffeine in recent memory.  What is WRONG with me?



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And Then She Waved Her Magic Wand..

I love living in Alabama.  I really, really do.  The people here are amazing, and the food?  Oh, don’t even get me started on the food.  The weather is mild, other than the occasional tornado, and the sunsets are strokes of magic.

But there’s one thing about Alabama that severely grates on my nerves.

It is illegal in our state to sell sex toys.

And that?  That, my friends, is just stupid.

In my state, you can buy a gun.  You know, you can actually buy your KID a gun.  In fact, one of my workers bought his five year old daughter a pink gun for Christmas. (The pics were actually very cute and precious.) You can walk into any WalMart and purchase bullets.  If you’re of the right age, you can buy tobacco, alcohol, and a host of other things that can eventually kill you.

Has anyone ever been killed by a vibrator?  ANYONE?  And, frankly, if they have, wouldn’t that be Darwinism in action?

I’ve been a long time friend and fan of the sex toy stand.  In Louisiana, the Adult Emporium in Alexandria knew me by name.  When I managed a visit to Minneapolis/St. Paul, I made SURE to visit Sex World, a three-story mecca.  And locally, we have Pleasures in Huntsville, who is struggling to continuously fight the battle and maintain the right to remain open.

I ranted on a blog about this, and Drew from EdenFantasys contacted me to commisserate on this unholy law, especially since his site offers a fabulous array of sex toys and lingerie.  After a few brief exchanges, he asked the most amazing thing I’ve ever been asked: “Would you like to review one of my products?”

And the angels sang, and the clouds parted, and all was well with the world.

I visited the website one night with Bryan looking over my shoulder, and I just drooled.  Did you know that some vibrators cost upwards of $150?!  Holy crap!!  Naturally, I REALLY wanted to try one of those (do they cook dinner for you first and then do the deed?), but something else caught my eye:

The Hitachi Magic Wand Vibrator.

I had been exposed to the tale of this particular toy twice.   Once, when I was playing a Fairy Godmother in a children’s production and the male director (I kid you not) asked if I owned the Hitachi, and when I shook my head in a totally naive grossed-out way, suggested I would live to regret it if I did not run out and by myself one immediately.  And of course, everyone remembers the Sex & the City episode where Samantha tries to return hers to Sharper Image.

And I was all, “YEAH!  That’s what I’m talking about!  A sex toy you could buy at Sharper Image!  Cause it’s classy!”

The box arrived like a godsend on the day after we learned about The Tax Situation of 2008, and I was giddy to try it.  I actually tried it on Bryan first.. ON HIS SHOULDERS, YOU PERVERTS, GEESH.. and I’ll be dadgummed, the thing is quite powerful.


  • It plugs in.  No more checking out shame at Costco when you have 3 48-packs of batteries in your cart! (THEY KNOW.)
  • The instruction manual was very cheeky, which tickled me.  They wrote it so that THEY KNOW what you bought the thing for, but they’re gonna pretend ::winkwinknudgenudge:: that you want it for MASSAGE.
  • It resembles a microphone, which is what you can tell your kids it is.  And then giggle with sadistic glee that they’re crooning “Smoke on the Water” into a sex toy.


  • It really is a bit bulky.  You catch on after awhile, but it’s quite large. (THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID.)

And the best part..?!

Drew at EdenFantasys has given me the privilage of awarding one to a lucky reader!  I AM SO EXCITED TO DO THIS!   I so often review stuff, but I rarely get the opportunity to share a great thing with you!

Okay, so here’s the deal: leave me a comment telling me the name of your favorite sex toy.  And I don’t mean “Hitachi Magic Wand Vibrator”.. I mean, “Mr. Purple” or “The Great White Hope”.  We all know we give our toys names.  What’s yours? (Mine are listed up there, btw.  I haven’t named the Magic Wand.  Maybe Bibbity Bobbity?)

Leave your sex toy name in the comment section, and if you’ve never owned one or you don’t name them, leave that too!  I’ll keep this contest running a full week, so a winner will be chosen NEXT WEDNESDAY.   I’ll put reminders up before the end, but get in quick!  (One comment/entry per person, pretty please.)


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The Lottery We Never Won

So last week, Bryan and I were giddy with money-dreams.. you know, the dreams where you know that not only is payday around the corner, but so is your TAX REFUND, and you bought a HOUSE this year, and you paid $7K in daycare, and there is mucho dinero just right.around.the.corner!.. and we decided to go out to eat.  We almost never do this during the week, but I was tired and he was tired and the baby was NOT and we said, “You know what?  I think we can afford to eat out tonight.  Let’s SPLURGE.  We’re getting our tax refund back soon anyway.”

We made this deal while we were both still at work.  Bryan walked in the door and gave me this speech, carefully crafted his entire drive home: “Honey, there’s good news and bad news.  The good news is that I love you VERY much..” and then I stopped listening because the bad news must be the equivalent of “I’m starring on the next installment of Dateline: To Catch a Predator” when the good news is so obviously and horribly inflated.

He went on for some time, outlining our blessing and some other bullshit, and finally I asked, “And the bad news?”

“We owe $800 in taxes.”

I didn’t even have words.  No words.  Just sat there, slack-jawed, paused in between shoveling spoonfuls of baby yogurt into Binja’s mouth.  I mean, cause, damn.  Damn.  DAMN!

It took most of that evening for the truth to settle in: there would be no money this year.  None.  In fact, the company bonus I’d just received would barely keep us afloat.  March was always where we caught up, got ahead.  Not this year.  “It is what it is,” I said out loud, A LOT, trying to convince myself.  It was like having the $8 million powerball spent in my head, parceled out to the last dime, and THEN going and buying your ticket.  Money we never had, so no real loss.

SO, in light of that, I offer you a List of Things I Would’ve Bought with Our Tax Refund.

The walls in our bedroom are a soft sage, and our bedding is a robin’s egg blue and chocolate brown.  The fact that the blue and the green clash has been driving my OCD self MAD FOR A YEAR NOW. (But my lazy self wins out because I could’ve just repainted the room already.) Anyway, so this lush bedding set plays off the green in our room and has a breezy, spa-like relaxation to it.  I lurve it.  Of course, it’s only a duvet cover, so I’d need..

A fluffy new down comforter!  Everytime I travel, I stay in really nice hotels that have really nice linens and really nice down bedding.  And I sleep SO FREAKIN WELL.  (Of course, the solo bed and lack of children MAY have something to do with.  As may room service.) So I’ve been dying for a new down comforter and featherbed for us to nestle into everynight.

A new pair of workout sneakers for me.  My husband goes through about 8 pairs of sneakers a year, and I’m always aghast that he can do that and he’s all, “But I wear them EVERY DAY, Sarah!”.  I have worn the same pair of New Balance shoes since I was twenty-one years old, and they’re STILL what I wear to work out.  Of course, I don’t think this is healthy, especially considering they don’t even make that shoe anymore, so I’ve settled on a new pair.

Oh, my Kitchen-Aid stand mixer in lime.. I weep for yet another year we must be apart.  But soon, my darling.  SOON.

Seriously, we may have to get this anyway.  Because HOW FREAKIN’ CUTE IS THAT GIRAFFE?!  And the child is growing like kudzu anyway, so why not make some historical significance out of the fact that I must reclothe him three times a month?  Also, in that same vein..

I officially ADORE these frames that you stick on the wall around pictures.  This would look awesome down our hallway, where it’s scary to actually hang things because we are constantly subjected to Earthquakes by The Boy. (Okay, I could pretty much spend ALL of ANYONE’S tax refund at IKEA.)

And to show that I’m not TOTALLY selfish and I would buy something for Bryan, too, I was totally going to buy this:

Granted, I wasn’t going to pay for the shipping of the women, cause human freight is a BIATCH, but the pole?  Was totally gonna get one.  It’s part of that new Flirty Girl Fitness routine, where you lose weight by acting like Sane Britney Spears.  I may still ask if I can purchase the DVD in anticipation of some random lump sum of money, and then this will be bumped to the top of our priority list. 

BUT.. as it is.. the lottery is not ours this year.  So, knowing our cash flow will not suddenly ebb and knowing that we’ll have to find some cheap way to entertain ourselves, I think we’ll be procuring this:

Why, you may ask?  Because if you want cheap entertainment and you can’t afford your own pole, you visit your local gentlemen’s club during Rookie Night and slather THEIR pole up with this.

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Sarah Lena’s Oscar Pick

I know I’m not going to make any friends with this, but after reading things like this, I feel like it has to be said:

I don’t think Heath Ledger should win the Oscar.

Now that you’ve all thrown your tomatoes, I offer you this: Robert Downey Jr. SHOULD.

HA!  You had no more ammo for THAT one, didya?  SUCKERS.

Now that I’ve already pissed you off, I will say this: Heath Ledger’s death was truly a loss.  He was immensely talented, very loving, and (yes, I’ll say it) hot.  My generation will forever love him in that teen flick with Julia Styles, the name of which escapes me at the moment, but him singing to her in the bleachers with the marching band and all?!  Precious, and I was instantly a fan.

And I appreciated his work in The Dark Knight.  I’m not disagreeing with his nomination.  He was amazing.  His little ticks and his embodiment of pure anarchy was chilling and real, and I thought to myself through the whole movie, “Wow, Heath really outdid himself in this.”

But during Tropic Thunder, I kept thinking, “Who IS that guy playing the black dude?”  RBJ was just so amazing that I consistently forgot who he was.  And, that to me, is more noteworthy of an acting nod.

And I’ll say that yes, RBJ’s makeup was also a contributing factor (because, seriously, how amazing was his transformation?!), but so was Ledger’s.  Even playing field, in my mind.

Perhaps my most controversial thought, which is also the one that tips the scale for me, is the whole drug thing.  Bear with me.

Robert Downey Jr. is a man who has been in many a drug rehab.  But he’s back.  He’s back and he’s making great things and he’s surviving in a sober way and I feel that we should commend that.  I’m going to be a little blunt here (SURPRISE!), but I kinda see it like a race.  If one runner falls and doesn’t finish the race, we don’t hand over the gold medal because he had an amazing start.  I know that makes me sound heartless, but we have a lifetime achievement award for just such a case.

To sum up, Ledger’s performance was AMAZING.  Hell, he completely overshadowed the horrible direction given to Christian Bale (“Okay, so, to fool all of Gotham, when Bruce is Batman, he needs to sound like he’s been snorting Comet cleaner for about seven years and is currently breathing out of his trachea, okay?”) and the horrendous editing.  There is no doubt that everyone left the movie sad that we would never see more of Ledger’s Joker. (I am the biggest Batman freak I know, and Ledger’s Joker was the first one I really, truly wanted more of, Romero and Nicholson be damned.) 

But Downey’s performance — to me, the girl who LOVES character acting and wants to be that good — was something that consistently made me forget who he was.  And I’m not even an across the board Downey fan. (That mashup of Jack Black, Ben Stiller, and Downey performing as “The Pips” in Midnight Train to Georgia? Downey clearly sucked that up.) But the Oscars are a snapshot in time, not a summation of a career.  I’m, quite frankly, upset that his nomination is being ignored in favor of a Hollywood tragedy, when it’s worthy of noting because of 1) the actual performance and 2) the nomination of a comedic role at the Oscars.

To be fair, I won’t even watching Sunday night.  Cause, dude, Tool Academy is on.

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All About Us.

So Dooce did this meme and I was all well, hell, it’s not like I wanna WORK today anyway.  So I give you the Sarah Lena + Bryan Comer = 2getha 4eva story.

What are your middle names?
Mine is Lena.  Bryan’s is Bryan. (His family is devout about the using middle name rule.  Hence our child.)

How long have you been together?
Together five years, and this year will be our third wedding anniversary.  Jesus. 

How long did you know each other before you started dating?
I apparently met him several times before we started dating, and while I vaguely remember him, it wasn’t until he attended a Halloween party at The Bitter House that I went, “Hm.  He’s worth dominating.”  Wuv.  Twue wuv. 

Who asked whom out?
Well.  He drove me to my car one night after a show, and I asked him to join me for coffee.  He backpeddled and declined, and I immediately felt ashamed for my forwardness, until five minutes later when I’d forgotten all about it.  About two days later, he emailed me and said he had an evening free, and he’d love to take me up on my offer.

How old are each of you?
I’m turning 29 this year (and I just realized that makes me ALMOST 30 OHMYGOD), and Bryan will be turning 37. 

Whose siblings do you see the most?

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Money.  And we’re actually good about it, MUCH better than we have been in the past.  But there’s always some last minute crap (like, “Honey, we owe $800 in taxes this year”) that seems to shake whatever good we’ve accomplished and makes us feel like THE WORLD IS ENDING.  A few months after these crazy times, though, we always seem to come out stronger.

Did you go to the same school?
Yes, we both went to University of Montevallo.  He was a gold (leader, actually) and I was a purple and we rarely talk about it because GOLDS SUCK AND HE KNOWS IT. (PV!) 

Are you from the same home town?
Nope.  Bryan’s actually from the outskirts of Atlanta (before it was the metropolis it is now), and I was almost a military brat growing up.  We moved A LOT.

Who is smarter?
Bryan wins at Jeopardy.  I win at Wheel of Fortune.  We do not watch Smarter than a 5th Grader.  I think it’s a tie. 

Who is the most sensitive?
This is a tough question.  We’re both the same amount of sensitive, but Bryan’s the first to let me know when I’ve hit a nerve.  I’ll just bottle it up and resent him quietly until I finally snap and poison his grilled cheese one night.

Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Jason’s Deli, Beauregard’s, and Chick-Fil-A are our most frequent dining experiences.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
Bug Tussel.

Who has the craziest exes?
Whew.  If this doesn’t open a can of crazy worms, I don’t know what would.  But I will say this: we never had a to release the laywer hounds on any of MY exes.

Who has the worst temper?
We have different methodologies, neither of which deserving of “worst” more than the other.  Bryan tends to snap quickly, and has a habit of blaming his idiocies on other innocent environmental factors. (“I WASN’T GOING TO TURN HERE BUT YOU CONFUSED ME BY SAYING DON’T TURN HERE AND SO I DID!  IF YOU HADN’T SAID ANYTHING, WE’D BE FINE.”) On the other hand, I don’t get mad.  I get even.

Who does the cooking?
Me.  Bryan can make chili and Hamburger Helper, and the latter is not allowed in my house.

Who is the neat-freak?
My natural response is “ME, DUR”, but then I remembered that Bryan will get OBSESSIVE crazy with something in the house until all aspects of it are spotless.  Like when I said we should “lightly clean house”, and Bryan spent TWO HOURS cleaning the washer and dryer, even pulling out and cleaning BEHIND said appliances.

Who is more stubborn?
Bryan is definitely the most determined.  He will hold his position, come hook or crook, until he’s made his point.  I think he is to be commended for that.  I am not stubborn, because I simply do what I want to do regardless of anyone else’s opinion or desires.

Who hogs the bed?
BRYAN BRYAN BRYAN.  I get inferno-type hot when I sleep, so I’m all about the cuddle and roll away.  But Bryan would sleep on top of me if I didn’t wiggle in protest.

Who wakes up earlier?
During the week, I do, so I can get up with the baby.  During the weekends, we take turns letting one of us sleep in while the other gets up.

Where was your first date?
Unofficially: Waffle House on Airport.  Officially: Open Mic Night at The Corner.

Who is more jealous?
I think it’s a pretty even field there.

How long did it take to get serious?
From day one, we both knew it was real.  We even both tried to force ourselves away and convince ourselves otherwise, but it was pretty useless.

Who eats more?
Bryan is a three meal a day kinda guy.  He feels light-headed and sick if he doesn’t have breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  I usually just eat dinner.  Because I suck.

Who does the laundry?
Define “does the laundry”.  Bryan’s FABULOUS about getting clothes in and out of the washer, and sometimes they make it into the dryer.  But as far as getting clothes put away?  That’s all me.  I laugh now, but when we first moved in together, I had to keep buying new underwear because I JUST COULDN’T FIND MINE.  Turns out Bryan would just dump the laundry onto the top bunk of The Boy’s bed.  A whole mecca of Hanes awaited me.

Who’s better with the computer?
We’re both pretty handy with the technology.  I’m better with support desks.  Bryan’s better with manual labor of rewiring a modem line.

Who drives when you are together?
Most always Bryan, and for no particular reason.  We almost always take my car, but this is the one place that I’m a traditionalist: I think the man is supposed to drive.  Even when I start making muppet noises because the driving is unsafe and makes me cuhrazy.

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