Talking. A lot. To anyone who will listen.

Luckily, I have a super-cool friend (or “cohort”, as he prefers to be called) who runs a pretty nifty little podcast called “The Inexplicable Dumb Show”.  The title kinda lends itself to moi, doesn’t it?  I know.  While the podcast tends to circle around professional theatre, they wanted to delve into the sordid and incestuous world that is community theatre.  I had a lot of fun, and we talked about buffalo wings.  And Mackenzie Phillips.

You can listen to the IDS Podcast by clicking on the graphics below.  Many thanks to Tee and Jo(h)n for having me talk and then letting EVERYONE listen.

Considering cutting my hair.

Y’all, it has been YEARS since I have subjected you to the daily drama that is my hair.  I know you’ve missed it.  I have too.  Mostly because it means that nothing is happening to it or with it or in it or ANYTHING.  I’m dying over here.  And DYING WITH BAD HAIR.  Not that it’s bad, necessarily, but it’s definitely boring as hell.

Enter my new coveted hairstyle:

Well.  Shit.  I can’t find the damn picture.  It’s NOWHERE.

Like, seriously.  The first time I googled “short hair”, it was on EVERY freakin’ page and now it’s NOWHERE.

Lemme look again.  MAYBE THIS IS A SIGN FROM GOD.

Okay, there.  I tweeted it while we were heading to the game on Saturday, and all of you peeps were VERY supportive, excepting my husband and Elaine, who thought it looked like 1) Kate Gosseline and 2) it came out of a wood chipper, respectively.  And I feel you, I feel your honesty, and Imma let you finish but JENNIFER ANNISTON HAD THE BEST SHORT LAYERED CUT OF ALL TIME!

Anyway, now I’m all conflicted because while I was searching for that picture, I found these pics, all of which I would love to have on my head:

And then.. there’s this oddity:

Which, um.. made me wet my pants out of fear..

And then there’s this:

Which seems to have replaced my first hair picture as the Picture that Appears on All Pages of Search.

Anyway, so I may just get crazy and stop in somewhere and do it.  I’m just OVER having this much hair to worry about.

Getting Ready to Run for Boobies

When I was 21, I found a golf-ball sized lump in my left breast.  Thank all beings above that it was benign, but it was life-alteringly scary.  Which is not a real term, but I THINK YOU KNOW WHAT I’M SAYING HERE.  The point is: I advocate Breast Cancer research and fundraising and think everyone should.

With that in mind, I’m running a local 5K here that will benefit our local Women’s & Children’s Center by providing services to local women in terms of diagnosis, treatment, and recovery of breast cancer.  I’d LOVE for anyone to donate who may be so inclined; you can find my personal donation page here. It’s a great way to kick-off October (which is Breast Cancer Awareness month), and I’m all about any organization that allows me to wear pink.

EATING SOME SWINE FOR LUNCH

I was fortunate to be married to Bryan because he totally scored some GREAT seats to the Alabama vs. Arkansas game.  Bryan, Jack, my dad, and myself all drove in the pouring rain to Tuscaloosa, where the weather then cleared, clouds parted, sunbeams danced, and THE TIDE ROLLED!!

My dad, in particular, was excited to be there.  BEHOLD:

Alright, alright.  I can’t judge.  I had mine poised the entire time too.

Anyway, we had a fabulous time.  It made for a great family memory.

Whatchall been doin?

For Hire:

Italian redhead.  Spunky.  Right-brained.  Compassionate.  Self-motivated. 

(Possibly ornery at times.)

Can type 100 wpm.

Prefers to work virtually for maximum productivity.

PowerPoint engineer wizard SORCERESS.

Knows how to properly utilize SpellCheck. (See “SORCERESS”, above.)

Speaks engineer.  Fluently.  Can translate to usable English.

Has marketing, media, and organizational skills out the wazoo.

Administers sensitivity in using euphamisms. (See “wazoo”, above.)

Needs creativity.  NEEDS CREATIVITY.

Not good at Excel.  Kinda proud of it.

Experienced in online media and web-savvy with networking.

Feeling like the grass is greener.

Guess I need more fertilizer on my side.

An ex-boyfriend of mine found me on Facebook (don’t they all?), and of course, while I was agonizing over all of my pictures (before I knew he knew I was there, I didn’t care so much that this was available or GOD FORBID THIS and why do I post this shit?), he was looking over my life and was all, “Wow, Sarah.  You did it.”

Of course, I was immediately thrown into Yeah, you went and got old and fat and bred and married when he finished: “You made a perfect life.”

::cue Sarah sitting there dumbfounded::

::possibly drooling::

He continued.  “I’m just.. I’m so proud and jealous of you.  Look at all you’ve got.”

And just like that, Wayne and Garth appeared and went all DOODLE-LEE-DOO-DOODLE-LEE-DOO, and I was back sitting in a car with him.  We were both teens, about to start our lives, and I was head over heels in love with him.  Would have done anything for him, seriously.  Everyone expected us to end up together.  Our parents expected it, our peers expected it.. and, obviously, I expected it.

We were sitting in his car, after dinner but before .. bowling?  A movie?  Something.  Something that would require me to focus on a project, rather than how every breath I took seemed to be completely saturated with him. 

The car was warm, although I remember it being February.  It was close to Valentine’s Day, actually. 

“Sarah,” he began, leaning in.  I shuddered.  He did that to me.  “Do you know how much I love you?”  It was everything I had been waiting to hear.  He leaned in and kissed me, deeply.  I remember thinking This is a kiss I could have forever.

He pulled away and put his hand to my cheek.  “I love you very much.”  He started to shift in his seat, and I really, honestly, truly thought that something .. SOMETHING .. big was about to happen.  And I was right.

He took a deep breath.  Subconciously, so did I.  And he said it.

“.. but I think I’d get bored with you.”

I hope a little piece of y’all just wanted to crawl in a hole and die with me, because OHMYGOD, I almost went all Firestarter on his ass and ignited flames with the sudden turmoil within my SOUL where he killed all of the tiny kittens and bunnies and unicorn foals.  I just sat there, stunned, as he continued:

“I mean, you’re great and all, but I want something bigger and better, you know?  And if I could, I would wave a magic wand and I’d make myself be satisfied with you, but I just don’t think that could happen, so..”

A magic wand, he said.  IT WOULD TAKE A MYTHICAL STICK INVOLVING SORCERY OF THE DEVIL FOR HIM TO BE *SATISFIED* WITH ME.  You know, little ole country bumpkin me.  Boring little mousy ole moi.

I still remember (VIVIDLY) that evening.  I remember wearing a purple sateen shirt (from the Kathy Ireland line at KMart), pants that were tight in the right places, and L’Air du Temps.  I remember being very, very angry.  But really, I remember being very, very hurt.  And beginning a spiral of self-exploration that would be very ugly and very truthful but ultimately very amazing.

Ten or so years later, I have “the perfect life.”  And I hope.. against hope against hope.. that he knows every single day that my life has been ANYTHING but boring.  And that he missed out on a fabulous lifetime with me.

What was your one BOOYAH moment with an ex? (I really can’t WAIT to hear these!!)