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 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!