What about yo friends?

Hey there adoring fans (Abby Church)!

So, my endless amount of free time has been not so endless. At first, I thought this summer was going to make me so bored that I’d end up cutting off my own arm, bind down every finger but the middle one, and turn it into a weird art project for my desk that evoked “Just enjoy this free time while you have it moron. You’re such an anxious prat when you have nothing to do, so now you’re going to be forced to do it, and with only one arm…and that arm is flipping you the bird! Bwahahaha!” You, know like needlepoint, but edgier. As it turns out though, when you don’t have any daily obligations like walking a dog (she’s with my parents for the summer harassing goats) and 12 – 14 jobs, your time can still get pretty eaten up when you spend it eating with friends!

If you have known me at anytime between the year 2001 and last week, you’ve fallen victim to my perky catch phrase “I don’t have time!” It seems like a super sad catch phrase but can come in really handy. Take these examples: “Can you come to my beach party?” “I don’t have time” seems sad. “Can you come to my b*tch party” “I don’t have time” is a great save, and “Can you come to my beach farty?” “I don’t have time” can save a life (for you writing novices out there, comedy is written in 3’s which is why the above example is hilarious to you. Also the word farty is classically funny, thought provoking, and rhymes with party. I’ll be offering a comedy writing course in the fall, see my secretary Larry for more details). Now, don’t be a turd-waffle when you use my catch phrase please. Every time I’ve used it, it has been wildly true. Again, 17-19 jobs is a lot for one gal to have, and all of my jobs are creative, so when I’m not at work I’m home creating the work which is a vicious cycle not unlike a bike ridden by a T-Rex. Ha!



So, since my last post I’ve abolished my catch phrase and taken a lot of time visiting friends and eating stuff. Here’s a little peak into my life from the last week…

I met up with my fave couple Abby and Shaun who are getting married next summer (and yes, I will be offered a plus one to their wedding, so get in line fellas…except for you Larry, so stop asking). We ate some complimentary cheese balls and discussed foreign policy (fine…ok…you call my bluff you testy readers…we talked about fallopian tubes and theatre gossip…because we like to make Shaun sweat…but we did eat a few cheeseballs…ok fine again…we ate all the cheese balls before this picture was taken so I had to enhance with my own art (watch out Pixar!) for posterity…but I think we can all agree that Shaun is sweating his cheeseballs off!).


From Left to Right: Me, balls, Abby, Shaun, balls

Next up was a brunch date with some of my coworkers from the gym.  These ladies know what it’s like to have 23 jobs at once so we’ve made it a pact to drink bottomless brunches together and slap each other across the face when we hear, “You know, I just got offered this crazy gig, it doesn’t pay much but (SLAP!)” Other acceptable scoldings include waterboarding, snow blinding, and side planking. We like to keep it fresh. I love these women to the moon and back because they are strong, photogenic, and not afraid to take their chances with dogs tied to street signs.


From Left Clockwise: Laura (likes to make her own hats), Lisa (dares to wear a white outfit whilst drinking pink things), Eddie (name we came up with for the dog who has been left tied to a No Parking sign while his owners had omlettes), Julianne (just snapped my bra because I told her someone offered me a gig babysitting iguanas), Me (practically perfect in every way).


From Left to Right: Beauty and the Beast

Last up was time well spent with a new friend of mine who has the one thing that guarantees our relationship outlasts the test of time…a Costco membership.  For true friendship is with someone who is willing to split 42 rolls of toilet paper and an 8 pack of chick peas while guarding the free sample stations as a chubby woman in a hairnet spoons macaroni salad into a dixie cup.


From Left to Right: Anelisa (new friend who can get me into Costco…as long as I wear a fedora and pretend to be her Aunt Maybel, macaroni salads, Me)

So there you have it folks. My boring summer has gotten a lot less boring, and has given me a new catch phrase to try out…“because with friends like these, who needs xanax?”

Let’s see what happens next (yes Mom, I’m making a dermatologist appointment soon, okay?)week!

Day 1: Summertime…and the living is bored as Hell.

Hey there adoring fans (Rob Schiffmann!)

I’m back! For those of you who had no idea that I had a blog one time, welcome to my blog! Take your time to peruse through older posts about bathroom art, dog birthdays, and quarter life crisisis (I feel like this should be cry-c’s but not sure on spelling and since I’ve already googled peruse, I’m done googling for the day and I sure have cried a lot of c’s in my time…so…you know…applicable?).

66daysofSarah first started because I was moderately terrified about the world exploding at the end of the Mayan calendar, which was like what 2012? Holy hemorrhoids that was a long time ago. Back then I wrote about all things I wanted to do before we blew up/were captured by sex aliens, and I began the blog 66 days before our rumored apocalypse. When the world didn’t implode (high fives hobos!) I started to write about making my life more awesome instead, which was meaningful, and spiritual, and anecdotal and menopausal (ok, I take back that last one, it was totally not menopausal, period.  See what I did there? Bahaha. Still got it (that means two things)).

And now I’m writing because I’m flat out bored. I’m a 34 year old woman-child (why does man-child sound so much cooler? Dammit! I will shatter this glass ceiling of terms used for adults who act like starved-for-attention kids most of the time but still almost always pay taxes so they’re technically grownups, immaturity is not just a men’s club anymore!) who is down to 1.5 jobs for the summer and is about to tear her eyeballs out if she watches another Netflix original series.

So, (Disclaimer about reading my blog: I enjoy going off on tangents for long periods of time, I usually put these tangents in between parenthesis because I have a degree in Dance which means by law that I can only count to 8, and by nature missed out on valuable lessons like reading and writing. Much of my literary knowledge comes from reading Musical Theatre scripts where they use parenthesis a lot to describe how someone is feeling or the lighting of a particular tap dancer’s drug den, so naturally I figure parenthesis are perfect for this medium. In case it ever gets brought up, all of my religious beliefs comes from Musicals too, so I may have no idea how to look up a scripture ((sorry about it nut jobs who quote that stuff on Facebook…or make me read poems at wedding ceremonies…just kidding on that last one…love you cousin Jessica, your children are beautiful and smell like puppy dreams)) but I can tell you the colors of Joseph’s Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, and what Judas’ favorite disco song was. So I digress into parenthetical rants sometimes going as far as adding the super cute double parenthesis when I go even more off topic and is probably more grammatically incorrect as you can see with my Facebook/wedding hazing above. If you want to be reminded of the original sentence, look back to where the parenthesis start and you’ll be able to figure out the original thought. I’m like a choose your own adventure of lazy blogging!) let’s begin.

Why start writing again? Typically I have 4 to 9-ish jobs at a time and work far too much. I am a fitness instructor/dance-improv-acting-teacher/show producer/choreographer/director/writer who occasionally does stuff that people think is 100% real but is actually super fake (I can’t get into this last one because I’m sworn to secrecy…but the next time you hear or see strangers doing something that seems super real, know that it’s really me doing it for money…no it’s not porn, so stop asking me Larry).  But now because it’s summer time, most of my jobs are on hiatus and I need something to fill my days with besides napping, day drinking, and worrying about my moles.

So, I did a little calendar counting (phoned a friend to help me count past 8) and figured out that minus a gig I have coming up in August, there are 66 days between now and the end of my summer vacation. Since I’m always up for a challenge with an end in sight (and because I’m reading Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes and think to myself, if she can say yes for a year, surely I can write about boredom for 66 days…I mean we’re practically the same person mentally and physically….and don’t call me surely).

What you can expect from this blog…

  • adventure
  • mischief
  • dermatology

What you can’t expect…

  • distinguishable grammar
  • elegance
  • herpes



Yep, that is a stranger’s thumb in the lower left corner…just kidding…it’s my friend Annalisa’s…I wanted you to think I was adventurous.

Day 1 and done!