Day 212: Dear Universe…

Hey there adoring fans (Venessa Peruda)!

Dear Universe,

Today I donated $14. 78 to you and your cause.  It fell out of the pocket of my favorite dog walking onesie somewhere between the grocery store and the gas station on the corner of Central Park North.  It was wrapped in a receipt for a container of chickpea salad and a small bag of kettle cooked salt and vinegar chips.  I was planning on eating the second half of the bag of chips tomorrow, as I am trying to be a bit healthier and knew that 2 servings at 165 calories and 10g of fat in one afternoon was not conducive to my being healthier needs, but after the trauma of losing $14.78 to the streets of New York, I used the second half of said chips to eat my feelings.   I know I don’t have much say when it comes to the way you run your world Universe, but if you could take my requests pertaining to the finder of this money under consideration, I would greatly appreciate it.

Please award that $14.78 to someone worthy.  Please don’t allow this money to be picked up by a D-bag who uses it to buy something boring and practical like drain-o, or maxi pads.  Please let this $14.78 lead it’s new owner to something exciting and adventurous.  Maybe a fancy cocktail on a rooftop overlooking the Manhattan skyline (provided that this person has the accurate amount of money on their own to leave an appropriate tip…or else they would be a D-bag which we previously discussed the money would not be going to).  Or maybe, this lucky and newly rich person will use the money for a nice ferry boat ride where they could breathe in the fresh Hudson river air, perhaps glance over their shoulder only to notice the most intriguingly beautiful person they’ve ever seen standing at the other end of the upper deck.  The intriguingly beautiful stranger may notice them at the same exact moment, and as their eyes lock, a timid smile comes to life on each of their faces, both knowing that this is the moment they will look back on 50 years from now when surrounded by their children and grandchildren while vacationing at their summer home.  “Now children, If I hadn’t found that $14.78 on 110th street all of those years ago,” they would say, “I would have never taken that ferry boat ride, would have never met the love of my life, and then none of you kids would be here today.  Before I pass on into the great unknown that is heaven, I sure hope I get a chance to meet that poor sap who dropped that money on the street that day, and thank them for changing my life forever.”

And I suppose if neither of those events happen, Universe,  I sure hope the recipient of my mishap at least uses the money to go to see SHARKNADO… and splurges for 3-D.


Your beloved yet clumsy follower,


Day 208: When Hairy met Sally…

Hey there adoring fans (Heather Torres)!

I’ve been tossing back and forth this idea for a way to get myself more motivated.  It’s kind of a “challenge” that I would be giving myself for the month of August.  I won’t tell you what it is now, because I might chicken out and then you all will stop reading my blog because you’re only currently reading it to learn the answer to the secret of life and to pick up the occasional dating tip and who’s going to learn those things from a chicken?  This plan does however involve some organization, so with my afternoon off, I decided to start with organizing my bedroom….


But being that I hate cleaning, and share the same attention span as a hungry baby billy goat, I got distracted…

by my gross hairbrush….









I would like to conclude this post with a little quote from my cousin, Gina on her reasoning as to why I am still single:

“It’s okay cousin!  I was single forever and was pretty sure all guys were A-holes!  You are awesome so it’s going to be a hard find someone to match your amazeballs personality…”

Yes, Gina.  I believe it is going to be very hard to find someone to match my amazeballs personality.

*If any of you would like to subscribe to my blog to get alerted when I write new posts so that you don’t have to rely on Facebook or that batman like shadow that I post in the sky, please do.  I think there’s a ‘subscribe’ button somewhere.*

Day 206: What has your earlobe done for you lately?

Hey there adoring fans (Rob Schiffmann)!

It began with an earlobe.  It was a burnt earlobe.  My burnt earlobe.

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You see, a few weeks ago I went to visit my family at our beach house (and by beach house I mean a quaint one story cinderblock cottage built by my grandfather in the 50’s on the Tappahanock river in Deltaville Virgina, population 12… I love that beach house but wanted to give you a clear visual of where I spend my summer vacations so that I don’t lead you to believe that our family owns a Hampton’s summer mansion or P-Diddy type yacht because then you would all probably start asking me to “borrow” money to invest in your pyramid schemes).  Before going outside, I slathered myself with sunscreen just as I do every time I go out in the sun.  With all of the jogging, reading, and water sports I do in the summer, I have to be very careful of scorching my pasty/veiny skin.

Look here’s a picture of me jogging at the beach…

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But alas, I forgot to put sunblock on my dang ears and they got burned so badly that a few days later a flake of dead ear skin fell into my coffee mug of cabernet (because sometimes you need to drink wine out of a coffee mug…because you’re at work…).  Had this earlobe problem not happened, I probably would have just kept on walking a few weeks later when I came across this woman at Wholefoods.

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She was sitting at a desk with what appeared to be an illegal spaceship on it.  At first, I dismissed her.

Woman with illegal spaceship:  Hi there.  Would you like a free skin analysis?

Me: No thanks.

Disclaimer: In New York City, every where you go people are always trying to stop you during your incredibly busy day to give you things that you don’t need often in return for buying things you don’t want.  Example: “Excuse me miss.  Do you like stand up comedy?”  “Sure.”  “Great.  If you give me $1200 dollars and a DNA sample I will give you 2 free tickets to see Stinky Peterson tonight at Pierre Canseco’s Comedy Saloon.  This does not include the 7 drink minimum.”

Second Disclaimer: I’ve never actually stopped when anyone has asked if I like stand up comedy.  I can only assume this is what happens.

After dismissing the spaceship woman, I continued on my way around the store in hopes of finding some free samples of tortilla chips and then stopped in my tracks when I remembered my flaky skin cocktail.  I have actually always wanted to know what was up with my skin and how to take care of it.  How does one prevent wrinkles while simultaneously fighting off pimple gangs?  I have also heard that we humans should get checked by a dermatologist once a year and although I am quite aware that estheticians are not dermatologists, they probably know more than I do about skin and at the very least probably don’t refer to acne as pimple gangs.  Being an uninsured pasty person, this was starting to sound like a good idea.  Plus my blog is about trying to make my life awesome so learning how to make my skin awesome would probably in turn make my life awesome, right?   And I was in a Wholefoods, which was a pretty ok company to trust (aside from my theory that they inject all of the food at the salad bar with lead so that your salad can never cost less than $17.84).  Right?  Plus I still had 20 minutes to kill before any reasonable happy hour started, so why not?  I marched right back over and said…

Me:  Is this like totally free?

Girl with illegal spaceship: Yep!

Me: No catch?  I should probably let you know up front that I’m currently as poor as a hobo.

Girl with illegal spaceship:  It’s totally free.  I’m a licensed esthetician and Wholefoods has hired my company to teach people healthy skin practices.   

Me: Foshizzle?  I’ll do it!

I stuck my head in the illegal spaceship and got some pictures of my epidermis…

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The first few weren’t so bad.  When compared to 1,000 women my age and skin type, I was actually doing pretty well especially in the wrinkle division.  She said any findings below 30% were things I needed to worry about but anything above was fine.

Spots 43% and Wrinkles 85% (nice!)

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Texture 85% and Pores 49%

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And then came the gross part.  Where they remove the epidermis and focus all up on your dermis.  Sun Damage!  Out of 1,000 women my age and skin type I was in the bottom 1%

UV Spots 1% and Brown Spots 12%

sarah face

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Josie Grossie!

Apparently what I’ve always considered to be adorable little freckles are pockets of melanin (or pockets of something that sounds like melanin…I didn’t really take notes…and as I mentioned before, this event was followed by a happy hour so I may be remembering a lot of this entirely wrong).  Now, I know what you readers are thinking.  “Sarah, she’s a shyster!  She’s only saying you look like a dead baby giraffe because she’s trying to make you buy some shit!  You’re the most beautiful skinned person I’ve ever seen.  There’s no way she’s telling the truth!”   And I thank you for saying such sweet things to me readers.   But she didn’t make me buy anything and I think a true shyster would have told me that I had horrible wrinkles and should probably start investing in her company’s stock of unicorn blood, so I trusted her.  She did however recommend some sort of fruit enzyme product that would eat away my sunspots, which sounded really freaky and cool.  Then I asked her if there was anything that I could pick up to rub on my ass cheeks to eat away my cellulite but she didn’t know of anything for that besides cocaine and then I reminded her that I was as poor as a hobo and that cocaine was probably expensive or at least seemed that way on Law and Order.  I told her that I was suprised by the sun damage especially since as an adult, I’ve always worn sunscreen on my face but she said that most of the damage was probably done when I was a kid,


and that I needed to be extra careful and to use atleast an SPF 30 every single day and that makeup with SPF in it didn’t really count.  All in all the whole thing took about 15 minutes and really was totally free, so if any of you New Yorkers are ever around the WholeBody in Chelsea, stop in and see the lovely Winter Cohen from MyChelle Dermaceuticals so she can tell you exactly how much your parents didn’t love you by not properly shellacking you in SPF 2000 as a child.

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Day 203: My first Threesome!

Hey there adoring fans (Tori Blontz Saffran)!

As most of you adoring fans out there know (Disclaimer: I know I owe a bunch of you out there your adoring fan debut, and I swear I’ll get to you, and if I don’t, I promise to have a big party where everyone that I missed can gather together and punch me in the urethra…how’s that sound? Oh, and PS: the best way to become an adoring fan is by leaving a fabulous comment about how skinny and clear skinned I look on Facebook.  Not that I have vanity issues…oh shut up, what are you my therapist?…oh no, you couldn’t be because I don’t have health insurance and can only afford to get therapy and life advice from fortune cookies!  And only the fortune cookies given out between 11:30am and 4:30pm Monday – Thursday when there’s a lunch special because otherwise that s*it is expensive!  Now where was I before I started this quickly digressing parenthesis rant?  Oh right) at my last wedding a few weeks ago, I fell into a vicious tailspin over thinking about the whole relationships vs. being alone forever deal that f*cked with my head for a few days, hugely because I once again didn’t have a date to said wedding.  Luckily, for my best friend Mary’s wedding last weekend, I was blessed to have my 2 big brothers-from-another-mother, and favorite couple of all time, Michael and Craig there by my side for the entire weekend.  I had an amazing time and came up with the #1 best piece of advice for attending a wedding…

Sarah’s #1 Best Piece of Advice for Attending a Wedding…

Go with your gays!


Sarah’s Reasons for Why Her #1 Best Piece of Advice  For Attending a Wedding is to go With Your Gays…

1.  Six hands are better than two when it comes to zipping a dress and smoothing over back fat.


2.  Your dates are more well groomed, hotter, and better smelling than the entire midwest.





<———SMELL NICE!———>

3.  Your dates listen when you say that your up-do is very Jessie Spano from Saved By the Bell Prom episode…


but then lovingly advise you that it is really more Jessie Spano from Showgirls.


4.   You finally have not one but two people to dance with when the Dj says those usually haunting words: “Now the bride and groom would like to invite everyone to join them on the dance floor” Added Bonus:  you get the most dapper dancers in the room!

Mary (Beautiful Bride) Craig (Gorgeous Gay)

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Me (Bearable Bridesmaid) Michael (Gorgeous Gay)


5. You have a posse behind you when you decide to steal the boxed wine from the rehearsal dinner to bring back to your hotel room…

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6.  Being that most of the groomsmen are not regularly around gay men, your dates show them that not all homosexuals wear pink tuxedos and give out “handy’s”  in the bathroom.  In turn, all groomsmen profess their adoration to your dates with a “bro shot”!

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7.  Because your dates are constantly hitting the gym, you have two handsome (although extremely tired) body guards there to protect you while you wait for your bus to the airport at 3:40am the next morning.

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In conclusion.  Forget about bringing boyfriends, fiancés, or even husbands to your next wedding.  Go with gays and you will always have an amazing time!

**Disclaimer: this theory has not been tested south of the Mason Dixon line.  My apologies for any hate crimes in advance.

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Day 199: Beauty is in the Mall of the beholder….

Hey there adoring fans (Nisa Ari!)

Previously on SixtySixdaysofSarah, Sarah was having a brain meltdown about whether or not she should be pursuing the idea of being in a relationship or whether she should just settle on 11 cats and a membership to YouPorn Supreme.  She was staying in Towson with her friend Kelly and Kelly’s husband Mark.  Mark had come down with some strange illness that sent him to the hospital to get fluids the day before and was still feeling like poop (and speaking of poop, lots of it was still coming out of him…in burning hot liquid form).  Sarah had a whole day to kill before she was going to see her brother’s improv show that night, and felt bad staying in their house all day while Mark was sleeping (pooping) off this illness, so she had Kelly drive her to the mall on her way to work.  Sarah loved malls and knew that while there she should probably come up with something to write a blog about.  She first thought about buying a whole new wardrobe that would maybe attract the opposite sex but then remembered that she was as poor as a hobo.  So instead she would simply try-on-without-purchasing ideas for  a new wardrobe that would turn the fella’s heads and perhaps get her back on track to NOT becoming a cat loving porn enthusiast, and have the store employees take pictures of her so she could put her adventure on her blog.  When it was time to set her idea into motion, she ran into 2 problems.

Sarah’s 2 Problems

1.  Store employees don’t like to take pictures of you when you say “Hey could you take a picture of me wearing your merchandise so I can make fun of it on the internet.”


2.  Mall’s don’t have stores for people over the age of 14 yet under the age of 70.

So Sarah used her improv lessons to get people to take pictures of her shopping at age-inappropriate retailers.  These are her stories…

Disclaimer: All of these dialogues totally happened…except for the parts written between two asterisks *which are those things you think of afterwards and are all “Man! I totally should have said ______!”*

Another Disclaimer: Being that I don’t actually know the proper way to use quotation marks, periods, commas, parenthesis,  and asterisks, this will be horrifying for any english teachers out there to read.  My apologies.

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Sarah: “Hi there!  I’m sorry to ask, but would you mind taking a picture of me in this?  My little sister is in this weird phase where she loves anything with the word “nerd” on it.  I know she’s a total weirdo, but she’s currently working *as a mistress* on a cruise ship where she can’t go shopping so I thought I’d send her this pic.”

2013-07-08 13.14.55Sales Girl: “Totally!  I love “nerd” stuff too.  *Is her cruise ship hiring?  I could use some help paying for beauty school*.  And those solar system leggings are adorable on you! Are you thinking of getting them?”

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S: “Ok, I know this is silly, but would you mind taking my picture?  My niece always drags me into this store and insists that I would look “sick” wearing these clothes, and I always tell her ‘Chloe, Aunty Clara is way too old to wear these clothes’ and her 14th birthday is tomorrow so I want to send her a picture of how silly I look *along with a glow in the dark tongue ring*.”

SG: “Are you kidding?!  You can so wear these clothes!  Age is only a number and you look HOT!  And guess what?   That dress is on sale for $12 and it’s the only one left!  *Plus we have two for one tongue rings if you’d like, I can pierce your tongue with my spiked choker or snakelike gaze*

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S: “Hey ladies, would one of you mind taking a picture of me?  My best friend is getting married and all of my friends are in Cancun right now celebrating but I couldn’t go because my passport expired, *and I’m a serial killer*.”

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Then I took a short hydration break at Starbucks and ran into these two teenage girls…

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…and then tried to remember how I used to be able to fit into shorts like that and still had angst?  I can tell you right now that I wouldn’t give a rats ass about my non-existent love life, poverty streak, or lack of health insurance if I could still fit in some size zero cut-offs from…

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Maybe if I invested in some clothes from there all of my problems would disappear?  I went right on in grabbed some sensible size 6 jean shorts and a A & F baseball cap and headed for the dressing room.  All was going well until my endocrine system maxed out on the cologne fumes.  Apparently a person over the age of twenty can only last 7 minutes in that place before the inevitable…

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Disclaimer: I don’t know what an endocrine system is.

I learned my lesson.  Old people size 6 and up need not visit these teenie bopping stores.  I had a new plan…

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SG:  ”Now isn’t that a great look?!”

S: “Oh thanks.  Would you mind taking my picture?  I’m an actress and have an audition next week where I have to play a suburban housewife in the late 60′s and I need my agent to approve an outfit.”

SG: “Oh that’s just wonderful!  Have I seen you in anything on TV?”

S: “Oh probably not.  Unless you watch Guiding light.  I did some background work for them a few years back and once they gave me a few lines as a swarthy bartender.”

SG: “Oh how wonderful.  I can hold this outfit for you if you’d like.  You know, once you hear back from that agent person.”

S: “Oh that won’t be necessary, I should be hearing back from him any second *unless of course, he died on the table*.”

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All in all a good day of improvising and an interesting day of shopping.  I just had one more stop to pick out something a little sexy…

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S: “Hi there, would you mind taking a picture of me.  My mother and I are picking out a little something for my aunt and are not sure which size to go with.”

SG: “We’re not really supposed to take pictures in the store.”

S: “Oh, I’m sorry.  My aunt just had triplets and is feeling really insecure about her body.  We just thought this would cheer her up.”

SG: “Awww.  That is really sweet.  She shouldn’t feel bad, she just had 3 babies.  God bless her.  Sure, I’ll take a picture.  Just don’t tell my boss.”

S: “*Well it’s too late now.  You’re on undercover bosses and now I must deal with you on National television.  How would you like to die?  Lethal injection or we could go Hunger Games style with a human meat grinder?*

Disclaimer: Never tak pics in the dressing room at Victorias Secret.  Everything is really effing pink and you will look like an aunt-loving oompa loompa.

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I’d like to thank the employees of Towson Town Center Mall for their help with this post, and if the manager of Victoria’s Secret happens to read this, my apologies and please don’t fire Sherri.  She was a wonderful help and had an affinity for baby makers.

Now off to my best friend Mary’s wedding!  I’m sure I’ll have tons to report.  Peace!

*If any of you would like to subscribe to my blog to get alerted when I write new posts so that you don’t have to rely on Facebook or that batman like shadow that I post in the sky, please do.  I think there’s a ‘subscribe’ button somewhere.*

Day One hundred and twenty something: Beauty and the B-cup

Hey there adoring fans (Kelly Cwalina McKew!)

Happy 4th of July!  I mean 8th of July …sorry, time flies when you’re going to die alone.   I know…I know!  I take it back…a little.  But with the week I’ve had it’s been all I can think about.  Last Wednesday, I packed my bag (and my dog) for nearly a full week’s vacation.  4th of July, here I come!  Which was perfect timing because New York City and her restaurants are completely dead during the summer holidays, as the rich folks are headed to the Hamptons and the poor folks are headed to the free beaches that are filled with Hep C.  My family was going to be at our beloved Rivah (that’s how people in the south pronounce river) house for the fireworks and I really wanted to see my grandma as she was beginning to become more and more forgetful (Gold star, yet single tear for those of you that have read my last post and recognize that unfortunately my grandma had passed 2 weeks prior to the trip…still it was a great time to be down with my parents, bro, aunt, uncles, and cousins to celebrate the wonderful life that my grandma had had).  One of my higshchool friends was getting married on the 6th in Baltimore, and as luck would have it my brother has his Improv 101 showcase tonight in Baltimore as well (even more props if you remember that I signed my bro’ski up for improv classes to help with his social skills…you’re totes winning you loyal readers!)    So it has been a jam packed week of fun, but with me, I can’t have too much fun with out analyzing everything that’s happening around me.  So as I sit here at my friend Kelly’s house in Towson and hear the sorrowful groans of her husband in the next bedroom (as he has been peeing out of his butthole for the last 72 hours…big shout out to Mark McKew!) I have come to realize that what has been bothering me this whole vacay is how everyone around me seems to be in a relationship.  I’ve always been aware of the fact that 80% of the people I hang out with are in relationships, but I guess living in New York City takes the edge off.  There are millions of us living on one tiny island (totally made up population count) so I see single people around me all of the time (only half of whom are probably serial killers) but when you spend the week between family vacation…

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and weddings…

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and Clueless marathons on MTV…

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   You start to realize that although you know you are a strong independent woman…you are single…and 30.

Being a single lady has never really bothered me terribly much.  After all, Beyonce did write a song on it (which is only pertinent until Prince Charming  “puts a ring on it”).  I date a little (and I do mean little) here and there and it’s  fun for a bit and as time goes by things fade out.  I’ve always been a big believer in the fact that my life is pretty cool and unless someone is going to make my life better than pretty cool then why bother.  This week, however, has shaken me a little.  Relationships as far as the eye can effing see!!!  In some of the relationships, the two people were happy.  They were partners in the great journey of life.  Best friends.  A pod of peas.  Comrades.

Please vomit over Exhibit A:

My cousin Jessica and her husband Garren.


  And some relationships made me less than inclined to join the “taken” team.  I saw husbands/boyfriends/partners treating their significant others (and sometimes the general public) like a big sack of crap-potatoes.

Exhibit B:

‘Nough said.

But in every case I could feel these people, for better or worse, content with their partners and moving forward with their lives together.  Even a few of them are starting families.  Yes, I’m still crazy ole’ Sarah who’s fun to be around…

Just ask my Dad!

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or this bottle of Diet 7 up!

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or my friend Kelly!

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Ok…don’t ask Kelly….she’s still mad that I haven’t made her an adoring fan yet…until she reads this post…and cries with joy…and doesn’t complain about taking me to the bus station at 1am…

But I’m not the most important person in anyone’s life.  Except Ruby.  My dog.  That just stared at me while licking her butthole as I’m typing this post.  And then I feel like I’m in a Horcrux.  No.  That can’t be right.  I think that’s Harry Potter.  Debating weather or not you are ok to be alone for the rest of your life should not be decided while drinking Carona’s in the afternoon.  Don’t judge me.  I’m still on vacation until tomorrow…when I will go back to drinking at a more reasonable hour.  I’m in a conundrum?  Oh what the Hell…I’m in a pickle.  I’m 30.  I’m moderately attractive, with a decent personality and a full B-cup***.  I love my friends and family very much and I know they love and care about me.  But then there’s that little voice in my head… “Should I be actively pursuing the chance to be the most important person in the world to someone?  Maybe actually bring a date to a wedding for once in my adult life?  Have I been purposely pushing people away because I am worried to have someone mean more to me than I mean to myself?  If it was meant to be wouldn’t it have happened?  Am I taking back women kind 50 years by possibly hoping to find someone that will take me to the hospital when I’ve been peeing out of my butthole for 72 hours?”

 I just don’t know.  And maybe I never will….but now that I got that all off with my chest, be sure to stay tuned for how I spent the next 4 hours making myself feel better by playing improv at the mall…

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***Since writing this post I received a lot of lovely feedback from friends telling me how great I am, and I know, I know!   I am pretty awesome so I shouldn’t have down graded my good qualities.  What I should have said was that I’m smokin’ hot, with a better-than-Zoe-Deschanel personality, and a nearly C cup size (when I have period boobs).  

Thanks J-Pack!