French is NOT a country.

SO I hope I can do this blog justice. I ranted to Carpet last night about this and I'm afraid all of my creative rantings were lost in the conversation. This blog will be the first installment of many entries, as this is a 2 hour French class I'm documenting.

Last night marked the first night of my non-credit French class at the local community college. What up, DELCO. First of all, not that I'm being a diva, but I've never taken a class or even been in a classroom at a commcoll. I couldn't even find the room, and when I got there, it was all eyes on the newbs entering the room. 13 people in the class including myself. Of course we take a moment to introduce ourselves once the prof. has done so herself.
Christ on a Christopher Guest film.

Any volunteers? Oh yes! Let's welcome LaDonna,Madonna, I don't know what the christ her name was, all I know is that she's retired, had about 8,000 french foreign exchange students (and attended all their weddings in France) and would like to visit more often, because the obvious 'name dropping' of cities wasn't good enough. Yes, I must add that she was front and center. ATTENTION, BITCHES!

Next? Ahhh, Phyllis. The woman wearing the matching turqouise seersucker outfit complete with evidence of a Bedazzler. She was stoked for the class, especially with her new pen that had a silk sunflower with a wingspan of about 6 inches atop it. Phyllis is also retired and wished she could be like Cameron Diaz in the Holiday.
Think again Phy-Lo.
Next, me. "I'm Sarah. I'm a musician and I fix clarinets. I want to go to Paris and continue to study. STEP OFF BITCHES." Ok, maybe not the last part, but everything else was true. Yeah, I had my new notebook and new pencil, but so far, freakin Va-jayjay-donna had an ENTIRE page of notes written, and this was only the icebreaker!

Fourthly, I don't know her name, but she was Southern. Let's assume she has two first names, like Tammy Lynn or something. A middle-aged woman, tanned cottage cheese and fake blonde hair. "Hey y'all. I'm takin' this class becaaaawse mah fiancee is from KWA-BECK and I wanna be able to speak at a higher class level than all his families and such." Let me tell you what Tammy Lynn, you're already leaps and bounds ahead! During the class, all she did was apply lip gloss and eat about 3 boxes of tic-tacs which she shook every time she went in for the munch.

Next, I don't know what his name was, but he looked like a cartoon character. He was "NOT-retired " hhaha, how funny. He has some regular job and wants to expand his horizons. He also had hair growing out of every oriface of his head to make up for the top being completely clean. He thought he was pretty funny. Well, he wasn't.

Morris the clown, don't mess around. Some middle aged Irish engineer with 3 daughters. Aspires to visit France once a year. Couldn't really understand him because he was like 7 feet tall and spoke like an Irishman on helium. He seems pretty unoffensive, I'll give him a break.

Brazilian Slut Face.
This girl is a real gem. "I have been here in United States for 1 year and 4 mou-nths. I come from Lower Americas and I am learning Franche because my b-well, ex boyfriend said I am stupid, but I took him to Brazil and my parents couldn't even communicate with him in Spanish. My mother made me get out of the shower becuase they coudn't talk to him. Chris says Portuguese is trashy and I am stupid, so I am here to learn another language."

Thanks for sharing.

There's a few other people, the other stereotypes you'd imagine, but this is getting pretty long.
Part 2 will involve a story about Tammy Lynn and where French Fries come from.

Take your piece and run, please.

So once again it's Wednesday, aka cleaning day at the zoo. I have my usual run-ins with the normal household grime, and sometimes I get a bit of a take back. Today is one of those days.

In some of my old forgotten (and deleted) blogs, I've mentioned my findings of the girls' stepmom's piece left in bed. Yes, she's left it in the bed. What a ho-I clean once a week, and she leaves it in the bed. Once she actually realized that she did that and CALLED me up to apologize. I'm sorry, but when I find your GIANT PURPLE DILDO in your bed, I try to block that shit out. Not my fault you need help in that dept. Besides, does leaving something like that under your pillow mean the Porn Fairy is going to come and lube it up for you in the middle of the night? Christ on KY.

So after having gotten over her matching set of vibrator and fake giant penis, I get on with my job. (not that I've never seen that shit, but who plans on seeing their boss' collection anyway?) A few months later I go to put away her gym clothes and am greeted by something that resembles a jungle creature's chewtoy.

Here's the problem. I'm an exit only kind of girl. Maybe too much information, but hey, I don't need to stick stuff up my butt to be happy. I also don't need to find her stupid 2 foot long chewtoy with industrial rope attached and splayed out in her drawer where she KNOWS I'll be going.

SO back to today. I go to change the sheets and bitch has ANOTHER new piece up in her bed. Christ on a frequent shopper card. Why? Why is it that I need to know about her entire collection? Apparently the chewtoy wasn't enough. Getting a pink vibrator for your butt is in, especially with a matching pink cord and charm on the end.

Nutmeg and the Rock 'n' Roll Band

Last night I went out with Carpet, and we had a blast...As usual. I swear, simple minds and simple things go together like some hot on a tamale. First we hit it off at the Toppers near Gayfair, I mean Mayfair. Yes, I did just say there is a Toppers near Gayfair. Can I just say that I almost had to change my underwear I was so excited? So we got there and Gypsy gets the newly added Tacostixs and I stuck to the basics. A single order of the Topperstix with marinara.
Biting into the stix brought back a flood of memories and about 5,000 content calories. I suddenly revisited the days of waking up at 3 p.m after getting in at 4 a.m. and not remembering how I got there. The only thing solid in the party days was Toppers and the Toppers Man. I will pay homage to this someday. Oh Toppers how I love thee.
So then comes Gayfair, and yes we ran into quite a few mos at our favorite cruising stores, Williams Sonoma and Banana. Give it up! Heeey. I had to make a run to Apple for my dad, so we went in and we met Fun Guy. I wish we could have hing out with Fun Guy, he was so...Fun! He was such a cutie and totally someone Carpet and I would have had a riot hanging out with with! Where are you Fun Guy?
In the middle of us being completely inappropriate in all the wrong stores, Gypsy tells me in W/S that you can get high off of nutmeg. I had no idea. New on the agenda: get a nutmeg nut thing and eat it and see what happens. I guess you're supposed to grind it up and put it in milk. Like Nesquick? Nutquick, more like it. Instead I introduced him to the wonderful world of vitamin energy. It's by the makers of vitamin water, but it's in Red Bull form. I got some at the start of my half-country jaunt and I was freakin JACKED. About an hour into my drive (5:30 am), I thought it would be a good idea to start a rock band. I'm so glad it was early in the morning, because 'aint no driver needin to see me get all karaoke and shit in mah ride.'

Yeah, let's start a band and eat nutmeg.

Hump Day, more like CHUMP DAY.

Nah, not really, but I think it's funny as Chump, not Hump.

So I'm thinking of making a move. Possibly to a freezer. I've been out here in the "Mid-Atlantic" region of the states, also known as Killadelphia, the City of Brotherly Gunfire, and where "Yo! Adrian!" apparently never gets old, for over 2 years now. Geographically speaking, it's awesome because I'm smack in the middle of NY and DC. Being so close to District of Chumps also means being so dang close to the climate the area is known for and that climate I'm referring to is what I'm going to call "The area of the country that gets so humid it can't rain, so hot you just can't stop, and so freaking bountiful, something is always blooming." The latter brings me here. Something is blooming again. I can tell, half of my face is drooling and sneezing. I've done so much of this drooling and sneezing that I've actually become sensitively reactive to the Anti-viral Kleenex. Here I thought I was doing everyone I know a favor by visually announcing my anti-viral stance on allergies and instead, my face practically explodes everytime I use it. Ah.
Anyway, I'm 15 days from having my real bonafied vacation of the decade (and by decade, I mean the only vacation I'll have time for before I turn 40). I'm super excited. Yes, I said super excited. I'm going Northwest to beautiful Seattle. Yay. this will be coming after I take my freaktastic driving skills to the limit and drive almost 850 miles back to Wisconsin. I only spend about 2 1/2 hours in the car everyday, so it's time I got some REAL quality time and spent 13 hours in my little Corolla all to myself.
So back to Seattle. I'm so out of it that the most exciting thing I'm looking forward to is getting a picture of Cougar Rock. Sad, but true. Of course I'm excited to see all the other pre-made tourist attractions but who can resist a picture of Cougar Rock? I think I'm going to make my mom have a picture with it. Not that she's a Cougar, but it would be funny to see a random fanny-pack wearing, Seattle sweatshirt wearing, middle-aged midwestern woman stand by something quite representative of the local bars in the 'Scompstons. I heart Cougars. Rawr!

So posting blogs will be an adventure. I'm still deciding which direction I should take it, and I'm also a bit torn as to whether I should keep writing while I decide where to go and have the birth of this online monstrosity begin with my uneventful mind-droppings, or just keep it in check until I have a layout. Ehh, to be tainted. why not?

Pop the blog!

Woohoo!
Its about time I start blogging. So right now I should be in bed getting ready for another uneventful Tuesday and instead I have created a blog. Giddyup for blogs. See, I have some blogging goodness on my myrape page, but there's one problem...My mom is a stalker. Apparently she has nothing else to do but create fake accounts on myspace and facebook just so she can spy on me and my cousins. She also gets out my yearbook and looks up people. I swear. Sometimes she'll email me links or call me up saying something like, "Guess who I saw!?" like she actually saw them...you know, and then it's a "She got REALLY fat and was wearing this flourescent tracksuit and I think she has illegitimate children!" "She still has dirty hair. That family always had dirty hair..." She has this obsession with hair cleaniness...kind of weird.
Thanks mom.
Anyway, so I'm kind of tired. This blogventure should be interesting. I think I'll use it as a springboard for my memoirs, no?