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Category Archives: Seriously Not Serious

High Fives for Everybody

When someone in your life passes on, it makes you think about life and death and what type of impact you’re making on the people in your life. It makes you think of how people will speak of you when your time comes. It makes you wonder how you are being viewed by the people around you. I want to make an impression on the people in my life. I want to be known as someone who had a great deal of patience with others, was kind-hearted and was a spot of sunshine in the lives of those I’ve encountered. I want to be an inspiration to others, and show that having a heart full of Christ is awesome and changes life (and death) for the better.

I also want to be remembered for being funny and finding the humor in all things.

When this life of mine is no more, I want to be positioned in the casket with my right hand up so everyone that comes up can give me high-five. When people walk past my body at the end of the funeral, they will want to cry because I’m sure life without me in it will be unbearable, but then they will be like, Oh she’s giving me a high-five. That’s cool. And they’ll laugh and think “that Sara, always makin’ me laugh, she’s so ridiculous”. And then they’ll tell Chris that I was probably joking when I said I want to be in the casket with my hand up for high-five’s but it’s ok, because it WAS pretty funny and I’m probably laughing from heaven, telling Jesus that I just got 500 people to high-five my dead body. Yes, 500 people will miss me enough to come to my funeral. If only 50 people show up, then my family needs to go out and find 450 more people and bring them along to mourn me. I mean high five me.

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Yes, I did just make this about me

Unless you’re living under a rock, you heard about the tornados that struck DFW.

I have been fortunate enough to never be directly affected by natural disasters. These storms have happened before, but I’ve never had anyone that I know be affected in a serious way.

I’m convinced that Mother Nature was looking for me this time. She apparently doesn’t realize that I’ve relocated a few hundred miles away.

First, I find out that a tornado was seen around Burleson. I used to live there. Then I hear that there’s one super close to my parents house and heading towards the in-laws house. This is the city where I grew up and just recently moved away from. Then I hear one is in Pantego…another place I lived for a couple years. 3 separate cities that aren’t THAT close to each other. THEN when it couldn’t find me in any of my previous residences, it went after my job near Dallas to see if I was there. What did I do to make Mother Nature so mad at me? I know, I am not a great recycler, but I don’t litter. In fact, I pick up litter when I see someone else thrown it out. I even saved a turtle from the side of the road the other day. He was laying there, on his back being all helpless and we pulled over and I put him right side up in the grass!

Hopefully, Mother Nature will stop looking for me and stop picking on all my friends and family, scaring them and making them hide in stairwells and hallways and bathtubs.

In complete seriousness, I’m so thankful that all of my friends and family are safe and unaffected by the terrible tornados that ripped through neighborhoods. It could have been so much worse. There were like a dozen tornados and one even tore through a school and but there are no deaths reported. Simply amazing.

P.S. I don’t ever know how to properly use affect/effect. So just ignore those if they’re incorrect.

It’s story time

K-STAR: there once was a man from Nantucket

Me: who lived in a shiny red bucket

K-STAR: no

K-STAR: but we’ll go with that

Me: good

K-STAR: he said with a grin…

Me: dangit give me some gin

K-STAR: and passed out in the bushes

K-STAR: you start

Me: i cant

K-STAR: because i have to pee

Me: that’s not why i cant but ok

Me: go pee

Me: i’ll think

K-STAR: i was helping you start your “i can’t” story

Me: lol

K-STAR: i don’t really have to pee

Me: it’s hard out there for a pimp

K-STAR: tryin to make the money for the rent

Me: in the streets of lewisville

Me: or some safe city

Me: if i was a pimp i would own

Me: not rent

K-STAR: then i’d take over oak cliff b/c i would be such a good pimp

Me: ok

Me: there once was a blogger named sara

K-STAR: and she was very bad at playing the story game with K-STAR

Me: but it’s ok because sara is good at other things

K-STAR: like eating peaches

Me: on beaches

Me: with leaches and larva

K-STAR: one day she ran into a beach bum

K-STAR: i mean like literally ran into him

Me: with a tattoo that said “i’m no bum, i’m awesome.”

K-STAR: and she pee’d on him

Me: because he was stung with a jellyfish

K-STAR: and he was so thankful he gave her all of his awesome bum money… its totally like 57 cents and a hackey sack

Me: and then she killed him

Me: new story

K-STAR: I own a talking fridge named Miller

Me: but all i have inside is budlight

K-STAR: which caused him to be very, very disturbed b/c he liked the taste of Stella

Me: so he started yelling STELLA LUNA. STELLA LUNA. all day.

K-STAR: then someone turned out the lights and told him to shut up b/c he was getting annoying

Me: but he learned to adapt. and he rewired himself to control the lights so he turned them all on and made a siren noise for 7 hours and 12 minutes.

K-STAR: so someone walked over and gave him a monkey

Me: and he was happy.

K-STAR: the end

Me: i had one more

K-STAR: oh.. please continue

Me: and he was happy until he realized that monkeys cant survive in fridge and he opened it to play with said monkey and the monkey was drunk

Me: or the alternate/disturbing ending is

K-STAR: and then the monkey died of alcohol poisioning

K-STAR: before they could get him to rehab

Me: poor monkey.

Hookers make good money, right?

Well, it’s official. I’m packing up and moving from the Dallas area to the Houston area in February. My (almost) husband’s job is relocating him, which means they’re relocating me.

Dilemma #1: I have no job after January 31st.

Dilemma #2: We have to have a place to live and the place we really like and want costs money.

Solution #1: I will be a hooker. Except I don’t think I would be a very good hooker because I don’t like sleezeballs and from what I understand a lot of sleezeballs get hookers. And I don’t want to be arrested, and I don’t think I would be able to tell if the “john” was undercover or not. Also, there are a lot of other hookers out there, and since Houston is a big city, it’s probably a pretty competitive market. Also, I don’t feel like I would handle getting slapped around by a pimp very well. I don’t like abuse. Nevermind about the hooker thing.

Solution #2: I will be a pimp. A pimp of guys. I will find willing Houstonian men and make them work for me. And they will pay me. Unless they someday realize that there is only one of me and several of them (because I would be a successful pimp and would have a lot of guys working for me, because I’m entrepreneurial and stuff) and that if they join together they could take me out (like murder not like on a date). I don’t think I would like murder so I could not be a pimp. Also, I don’t think very many women would pay for it. Women can just basically get it for free. Nevermind about the pimp thing.

Solution #3: Get a real job. So. Um, someone find me a real job please…

Getting stabbed isn’t on my list of things to do

You know when you’re around someone with a knife and they think it’s funny to pretend to stab you? Well, that scares me. I don’t like the thought of being stabbed or pretend stabbed. That would hurt so bad. I can barely handle a papercut or a cat scratch. I can’t imagine how bad it would hurt to have sharp metal stuck in you. I feel pretty sure that if I did get stabbed, I would want them to leave the knife in there though. Mainly because I KNOW it’s going to hurt going in so I bet it extra hurts coming out. Secondly, I have a nail in my tire now, but the air stays in. If I take the nail out, the air will go out. So maybe if the knife is left in, the blood and organs will stay in until I can safely but urgently arrive at the hospital.

I really hope it’s only 1 knife though. because another tire had 2 nails in it, and the air didn’t stay in.

I also hope it’s just a knife. I know sometimes people stab people with other sharp objects. I don’t understand how un-sharp objects stab. I feel like that would probably hurt most. Like rebar. People get stabbed with rebar when they fall. Holy Ouch! No. How hard to you have to fall to get stabbed with rebar? Why is rebar where you fell? Why is rebar always rusty? ….so many questions

This is a disturbing post and I’m sorry for it. Kind of.

Did you know that a woman produces like 2 million eggs but only uses about 400(I’m not certain that information is accurate, but let’s just go with it)?  Well, that’s a lot of wasted eggs.  What if you could eat unfertilized human eggs?  Like we eat unfertilized chicken eggs.  How tiny would they be? Would there be a yolk?  Egg whites?  I guess it would be like caviar because of their size and rarity.   Next question is how would you get these eggs?  Well, I decided the easiest way to get the eggs would be to get them out of the ovaries after a hysterectomy.  Then there would be no more wasted eggs! Ok so who would eat these? Only a crazy person.

There are some people who ingest the placenta from their child’s birth. Did you know there is placenta shampoo? Well there is.  Di-gus-ting. Those people would eat human caviar. Probably.

If you never come back and read my blog again after this, I will understand.  This was one of the weirdest thoughts that ever entered my head.

9 OTHER Ways to Flatten Your Tummy

I just read an article called “9 ways to flatten your belly”.  Doesn’t an article like this pop up like once a week with the same information each time?  Duh, eat less carbs. Duh, don’t eat before bedtime. Duh, drink more water.  Duh, cut out salt….it should basically just say Crappy Eating = Bulging Belly.  Eat Lean, Be Lean.

So I came up with my own 9 ways to flatten your belly:

1.  Run 3 miles and do 100 situps each day. That will probably work.

2. Lie flat on the floor and place an anvil on your stomach.  Lay there for 1 hour each day for a flat tummy.

3. Put Duct tape around your torso to flatten out your tummy. At least it will LOOK like you have a flat tummy under your clothes.  Use different colored duct tape each day to spice it up.  

4. Wear a corset and pretend you live in the 1800’s, but brush your teeth and shower. Don’t literally pretend it’s the 1800’s.  BONUS: your boobs will look awesome and perky. (boys…this tip is probably not for you, unless you’re into that or REALLY desperate for a flat tummy)

5.  Imagine you have washboard abs by literally washing your clothes on them.  Don’t they say if you imagine it, it can be so? Well, get to imagining…

6. Do a body wrap thing like every day.  You know where they say they have some special formula of stuff that will take all the toxins out and you can lose 40 pounds in one session? Do that.

7.  Wear really tight clothes to force your body to adapt to them and become flatter and tighter. The human body is mostly water, right? And water changes shape based on what it’s put in…right? Makes perfect sense.

8.  Repeat #4.  Only because it’s probably really fun wearing those dresses and pretending you’re from another century. You could change it up by adopting new accents.  Just a thought.

9. Drink water. ..Just threw that one in, because water is good for everything and if you’re running 3 miles a day and doing 100 sit ups and putting anvils and duct tape and wraps on you, then you probably need some hydration.

I’m Not A Muggle, I have powers.

Today I made an origami fortune teller and I asked some questions:

1) Will I become rich? Misfortune You Bring

2) Will I live to be 100? Suck It

3) Will I be at this job in 10 years?  Probably not

 

and then she asked a fateful question:

WILL I BE FAT?

It is promised

WILL I BE FAT?

of course

no way did it just tell her she was going to be fat twice…. so she asked again

WILL I BE FAT?

Stop Asking

um, seriously? did it just say stop asking?  yes, it did.

One more time, WILL I BE FAT?

Lovely Chance

 Final question:

Am I Doomed?

Of Course.

 Who knew my tiny little paper fortune teller would be so telling….

 

You would love my beard

Picture a full beard with a triangle shape cut out on each side. That’s what I picture for me.  I wouldn’t just have a bushy beard or goatee or moustache or soul patch.  I would have a healthy beard so that I can make art.  It’s art that grows back to make NEW art!

 While I was searching for the kind of beard I would have I found these noble beards:

Um, Heck yeah! I would totally rock a monkey tail beard. This guy would be my friend. and we would have monkey tail beards together.
I think the hair in the design should be thicker so the shapes are more defined.
This one is my style. I like the lines in it. Looks good buddy. Looks good.

Those were amateurs, check this guy out:

This guy is legit. A bridge? Are you kidding me? Well Played.
Keep smiling dude, you have a friggin windmill on your face made out of YOUR facial hair. You’re my beard hero.

The Mafia Just did my car inspection

I went to get my car inspected today.  There was no where to park because there were 3 cars scattered in front of the building and there was one car in the bay that was not getting worked on.  There were some guys talking behind the building probably plotting my demise.  I went inside and passed an old man sitting in a chair with a cane.  He said HI but did not tell anyone that I was there. So I stood inside alone until I could finally get someones attention.  The guy comes inside and I say “i’m here to get my car inspected” and he’s all Ok, no problem and he takes my keys.  So I start looking around this sad little room I’m in and I see an almost empy bottle of Armani cologne on the shelf, womens sunglasses, an old style phone sitting on a pile of stuff, a keyboard on shelf with a styrofoam cup on it and I see this:

Oh.My.Gah. It’s the Mafia.

Notice the lone car window roller thingy on the bottom shelf, it says HELP.. Even it’s afraid. Notice the shelf above just has stuff scattered?  The signs in this place dont even make complete sentences.  There is no sign for prices…just $19.99 oil change painted on the window.  What if they charge me $90 for this inspection? I’d have to run away but I think the Mafia can run fast so I would just have to pay with my body.  Seriously. Clean this place up, mafia. The windows are nasty, the chairs are covered in what are probably blood stains.  Seriously. Clean this place up, mafia.  I’m on to you.  There’s a staircase outside of the door and I think that’s where all the people are in this place. Upstairs murdering and removing fingers.  I swear at one point I heard a thud and a lot of moving around.  The underground section under the bay is probably where the bodies and drugs are kept. Probably.  I still don’t know why that old guy was sitting in the bay with his cane.

Also, when the guy came in to get me to pay (not the same guy that did the inspection) he said oh we forgot to get your insurance, haha, and I was all oh I know, but I have it in my purse! I’ll get it outno no it’s ok, I trust you.   He is my cousin and he is new, he forgot but I told him you were my customer and it’s OK I know you have it.  And i was like yeah.. ok. well it’s in my purse if you want me to shno no, it’s ok. You just come back whenever you need anything. Engine light on? Come in, I’ll check it. No Problem.  Anytime.
So, I think the Mafia is actually afraid of ME.