What does happy look like?

Sooo ever since it was discovered via the internet that my "Mr. Big" got married, my dear friend E was so captivated by the photos that she bookmarked the photographers blog and visits it daily. Right? Who does that?

So a little while back in my occasional facebook stalk I look to see if any photos have changed for Mr. Big's profile pic. (of course we are not friends). And one time when I checked it was a picture of a baby. Which of course made me think the baby was his. I have no idea how this came up in conversation but E says to me tonight - "no, that's not his child" and I of course say -how do you know?

Weellll I saw pictures on the photographer's blog and it can't be their child - just look, she says. So of course I bring it up immediately. And of course there it is - Mr. Big with his wife and his brand new family.

I swear i have never seen pictures like this before in my life that honestly were not actors doing their job posing in a f***ing field. These people are beautiful. Honest to god beautiful. It's the parents, and their three children with their significant others including Mr. Big and the wifey. One couple has two children and the other couple has a baby. All I can say without showing the actual pictures is that it is very "shabby chic" loaded with cowboy boots, old suitcases, buttons, fields, J Crew clothes and beautiful beautiful people. Actually kind of like this but honestly this picture doesn't even do it justice:

So of course after I scrutinized every picture, every facial expression, every accessory (i'm only human) -it made me think...

Is that what happy looks like? Perfect people in a photo shoot? Is that what we should all be striving for? If that's true - we would have a lot of people falling short, including myself. But I guess I don't think that is true.

I guess happiness can look like lots of different things. It can be toasting with your oldest friends in your very first home. Or laughing until your sides hurt on a hayride that is not doing a good job of being scary. Or getting a note from someone thanking you for doing something that resulted in an emotional experience that brought him and his son closer together.

Can J Crew family have moments like this? Of course - I'm sure they do. The bigger person in me would say I hope they do. But do we all have to throw on cowboy boots, play with buttons and romp in some fields to be truly happy?

Absolutely not.

Waking Up in Lincoln

Is not the same as Waking Up in Vegas. It's a lot quieter actually. So quiet that I can hear the people above me flush the toilet. and take a shower. and do their laundry. and try to calm their crying baby. all at 6:00 a.m. Actually now that I think of it - it's not quiet at all.

My new place in Lincoln is actually fantastic. I'm so happy here (even though i feel like i'm miles from providence) (it's only 10 minutes) and feel such a sense of accomplishment. Yet, it has made me slightly neurotic. I am constantly cleaning up after myself, picking things off of the carpet, trying to get rid of every strand of hair my head sheds. I've reached an all new level of analness. Onto better things...

Let me introduce my neighbors!

For sake of privacy I'll use letters instead of their actual unit #'s. I don't need you telling them I'm already talking smack about them.

Unit A - Girl around my age that lives with her boyfriend. I already forget her name. She pretty much lives in the basement. It can't be too much fun down there. She had a friend visit her over the weekend who turned out to be the girl who used to wax my eyebrows. Such a small world in good ol' Lincoln.

Unit B - Sweet girl who seems around my age. She has a cat. Which the entire hallway smells like. Her first impression of me was me apologizing for the idiotic Cardis Furniture movers who broke her patio umbrella while trying to hoist my huge couch through the back patio doors.

Unit C - Banjo player and his wife. They have a banjo playing son who came to visit last weekend. They held a banjo jam session while i was tanning at the pool. enough said.

Unit D - A Fabulous, Independent, Witty and Stylish Single Woman....me!

Unit E - HOT GUY! (and his girlfriend). I got super excited when I saw him coming home one night. I thought....could this be true? No...it has to be the boyfriend of one of the girls I already met. Then I see him check a mailbox. No sir! He lives here!! We meet on the stairs and exchange cordial conversation. I'm super excited and anxiously await my next interaction. Over the weekend the power kept going out and I got nervous because during the home inspection there was concern that there weren't enough amps to power the whole building. So I think this is a perfect opportunity to knock on hot guy's door. As I approach I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. A paisly doormat. One of the most fashionable floor mats I've ever seen. Which had to be purchased by his...girllllfriend. So of course when he answers and we determine this is a fluke thing he then tells me "WE are going to go food shopping while we wait for the power to go back on." We as in girlfriend. As in the girl who bought the paisley doormat.

and last but not least Unit F - The Family. A younger couple with a five year old little boy named Robert and honestly the fattest baby I've ever seen. I don't even know how it came out of the mom's petite little body. I can't actually say her name because I don't know it. Robert is the only one out of the four who had the decency to introduce thimself. Obviously Buddha Baby can't talk so that leaves the ownus on weird parents. They struggle getting out the door in the morning. I know cause I can hear them running around, turning faucets on and off, trying to get in 5 loads of laundry before the 7:00 am news and Robert occasionally getting yelled at. I might yell at Robert because I'm still waiting for him to bake me some welcome cookies. Isn't that what kids do?

So that's it. The whole kit and kaboodle. I think this place is going to be good for me - it's a whole new chapter in the Sarah Storybook.

Now excuse me...I have to go vacuum all the glitter I shook off my clothes after Waking Up in Vegas. I mean Lincoln... :)

And What a Circus It Was

Disclaimer: Anything that I say in this post does not take away from the fact that I love Britney. I have always believed. Now onto the nonsense I witnessed...

I went to the Britney Spears concert on Saturday night. The Circus they called it - starring Britney Spears. Whoa.

First of all - I was shocked to see how many people my age there was there. And they were dressed up. It was like Britney over the years: Classic Britney in the uniform skirt, Retro Britney in the red plastic suit, Britney circa pre-breakdown in the Fadora hat. And some an odd combination of all three.

Then comes the 3 ring circus which included a girl with no legs doing acrobatics. No. legs. How does she? Nevermind...

Then out comes Brit. She looks awesome. Rockin the curves and all. However she doesn't really seem that into it. Actually I feel like her dancers kind of have to lead her around on the stage. It all of a sudden became: the what object can we push britney around the stage on concert. A few of them included:

A stripper pole

a cage

an ottoman

a bicycle

a hot air balloon type basket

an umbrella

and my personal favorite: a picture frame that she was holding onto for dear life. "y'all just look at me like i'm a picture, in a frame y'all"

So besides Brit being pushed, lifted, led, and held all around the stage the show was quite entertaining. I also found what my Halloween costme is going to be this year:

I personally enjoy the shorts.

Doo doo dada dada...dee dee dooda dooda

Part Three: Did The Hangover Actually Take Place in Newport?

Ok - I know - you've been on the edge of your seats waiting for Part 3 of this long ass story. Since i just want to get it posted I will make this quick - here are the 10 reasons why I think that I experienced the Hangover first hand (ok a very mild version, but still) in the last leg of Southern Belle's memorable trip.

1. Southern Belle, T and I were so disorganized/hung over from our nonexistent pot party that we had a tremendous late start down to newport which resulted in T having no dress to wear, no alcoholic beverages for the hotel room, and feeling like we had no direction in life.

2. All clad in bathing suits and sundresses we ventured out onto the streets of Newport only to find out that it was cloudy, windy and hence the coldest day of the summer.

3. I get pissed that a 10 year old kid beats me to the plastic fishing pond at the restaurant we eat lunch at. now it's not going to be funny anymore it's just a cute kid fishing.

4. After we try to revive ourselves with a shower and some dinner we realize that every cab in newport is being occupied by the newport jazz festival. do that many people listen to jazz? i didn't think so.

5. After dinner we head over to the headlining event - Tracey Morgan. We are taken on a pot filled journey that included jokes about va jay jay's, sex, relationships, michael jackson, and back to sex. 2 couples in front of us walked out. they had sweaters tied around their necks and alligators on their shorts. we leave feeling confused and a little violated.

6. we head over to a popular newport bar where one of our providence friends is with a bunch of his friends. we see that they are sticking post it notes with funny sayings on each other's foreheads while the person with the note has to guess what it says. i say "this is so stupid".

7. thirty minutes later i am anxiously awaiting my next post it note which is being carefully crafted by cute mark. it says "please don't make me go back to the hotel". i think he is sending me a subliminal message. or a very direct one. these post it notes are hysterical. we are so funny.

8. what is not funny is when a stranger threw up on me at the bar. yes. threw. up. on. me. i initially think that someone spilled their drink because it's all cold and liquidy. not chunky at all. when T points out that it's actually throw up - i start screaming at the top of my lungs " MY LEGS, MY LEGS" like i had stepped into a land mine and my legs had blown up. the bartender quickly gives us free shots to shut us up. thank god i was wearing a dress so i could wipe it off my BARE legs. i know...i know.

9. the night starts to get out of control with people named manchego dancing with southern belle like a crazy man, T ripping shirts off of people, and me begging to get on stage with the band (and succeeding of course) (until i felt a tap tap tap on my shoulder into the second song and turn around to see the lead singer giving me a look like - ok wacko - get off my stage.)

10. And finally leaving Newport the next morning - in an even more disheveled state than we arrived. If we were still playing the Post It game mine should have said Laughed with Morgan, Danced with Manchego and had a Blast with My Girls.

The end.

Part Two: The Sighting

So after we recovered from that memorable and weird night at 212 Waterman we had a big day and night in Providence planned. The highlight of the night was taking Southern Belle to our new favorite spot - Luxe Burger Bar. It recently became Luxe and even though we love it just as much (maybe even more)- this was an old fave from when she lived up here when it was formerly citron. So we thought it would be perfect for us to take her there.



It was the Fab Four back again - Me, T, Southern Belle and Foxy White. It was a beautiful night and it was also WaterFire so the city was busy with lots of people out and about. I decided to wear my fun, colorful, strapless cocktail dress - I was a little doubtful because I felt like I was going to a wedding( maybe because i did wear it to a wedding. make that two weddings.) but decided to wear it anyway. So we sit down at our table outside and not even 2 minutes later Foxy White says to me - don't we know that guy over there in the black shirt?



And as she is saying this I look over my shoulder and there he is. The most recent heartbreak. Which is what mine did - again. We hadn't spoken since our "break up" (if that's what you can call it) via text message almost 3 weeks ago. I absolutely froze. This is probably one of the worst social moments a person can have. So of course we immediately formulate a plan. Since there were crowds all around Foxy White placed herself near where he was and pretended to make a phone call. When he turned to go back to his group she "ran" into him. Of course he asks who she was with (I swear he spotted me before this whole run in and tried to pretend i wasn't there). She of course tells him she is with me among others and he says he will come by. THANK GOD he was not there with another girl. I literally would have died. However I don't know how much better it was that he was with his brother and sister in-law and some friends - there was a day when I would like to think that I would have been a part of that group. So anyway he goes back to his friends and foxy white comes back to the table. I have completely lost my appetite at this point and am so at a loss for what to do that I am just staring ahead in some complete fog. Minutes go by and he's not coming over. So my friends eventually say for me to be the bigger person and go over there myself. I felt like i had to oil myself like the tin man to get my joints to move as I confidently (what i hoped looked like confidently since i felt like a baby fawn walking on new legs) walk over to him and his friends. As soon as he sees me he comes right over and hugs me and kisses me on the cheek. Then he starts rambling about how he was going to come over...blah blah blah..didn't want to get yelled at by crossing the ropes to where i was sitting (like there is restaurant police). Then he tells me I look nice. (although i was happy i looked good i was totally regretting looking like i just did the electric slide) This whole interaction is completely surreal. All I kept thinking was - was this really happening?

I'm not going to recount the entire conversation - we talked about our condos, work, we recounted with his friend about how fun our night in newport was etc. i went with him to check on the status of their table with the hostess. this was the point where we were by ourselves and i had the chance to say something. but what would i have said? you hurt me? you made a mistake? why did you have to do that over text message? i keep telling myself that whatever i would have said it wouldn't have changed the outcome.

it made me think of that movie that's out now which i LOVE - 500 days of summer. the boy is in love with a girl and she has dumped him - he runs into her randomly and she invites him to a party that she is having. when he goes to the party there is a split screen and one side is his expectations of what he wants to happen at the party and the other is the reality. (of course the two are dramatically (and depressingly) different). i kept thinking that was what this was like. in my expectations screen he would have seen me - felt horrible, wanted to explain himself more, and then realize upon seeing me that he did make a huge mistake and wanted to know if i would forgive him. However of course we know that didn't happen. In my reality screen we finished talking, i went back to my table where i proceeded to get choked up, somehow made it through dinner, watched him laugh with his friends while he ate dinner wishing that i was sitting next to him, and then awkwardly talked to him at the bar before he left that ended with hugging me while i said "it was good to see you" and him saying "you got it"(are you kidding me?). Then I proceeded to hold up the line in the bathroom while I bawled and tried to pull myself together. There is no worse of a feeling when your heart hurts so bad you can barely swallow.

Thank god i was with my girlfriends. They of course gave him a few zingers while i stood calm and collected. In conversation he referred to his friend as being "ten times worse than him" in the dating department and foxy white wittingly socked him with - "what? fucked up in the head?" LOVE IT. I of course wanted them to knock him down more but was convinced by them that it was the perfect amount of zing.

So in true Sex and the City fashion T decides that we need to round this night out with some good old pot. Me being the pot virgin thinks that this is an excellent idea. We make arrangements with our bartender friends to come by when they are done with work for our little pot party. Meanwhile we need to pass some time so we head over to Waterplace for a little dancing (i tried my best to shake my booty even though i wasn't that much in the booty shaking mood) and we all manage to get into a screaming match with these girls in the bathroom. (I don't even want to tell you what started it. Ok - these girls got mad that they didn't get to use the bathroom first since they were on the elevator that led to the bathroom first. I know - RIDICULOUS. We are apparently at a club for 5 year olds.) After I yelled at them and told them to quit running their "bleeping" mouth I proceeded to leave the bathroom and then march right into to give them some more.

T then turns to me and says she knew i was going to be just fine when she saw me stomp right back in there.

So we head back to my apartment, arms clad with munchies and mixers for our pot party. I'm so freaking excited that I'm actually dancing around and reenacting "All my single ladies" for Southern Belle. We also pass time by doing the "pencil test" to determine whether we need to wear bras (not for the party. haha. but just in general) (i don't know, ask someone from the south about it). And then the text message comes. "Don't hate me, but we can't come." "we don't have a car." Jesus christ - in all of our bathroom girl brawling, pencil test taking, beyonce booty shaking we failed to hire drug dealers who HAVE A GOD DAMN CAR.

So just as Carrie ends her pot smoking escapade after Berger breaks up with her on a post-it note and says (still high on smoking pot) "Oh! Hear that? It's midnight. The official end to what will now be known as 'the day I got arrested for smoking a doobie.' HAHA! I said 'doobie." -- I can say that the night of "the sighting" will now be known as the night that I waited until 4:00 am for pot from a carless drug dealer.

And failed a pencil test.

Part One: It all started at the 2 - 1 - 2

whoa. what a weekend.

Well it all started at the 2 - 1 - 2...my apartment that is. Southern Belle was coming up from Atlanta and we had an action packed weekend planned. I don't think I've announced yet that I finally bought a condo - yippee! I had wanted to do an appropriate farewell for 212 waterman (and all the shenanigans that went down there) and I thought the best time to do it would be when Southern Belle was in time since that was the place where we became such good friends.

So i'm getting ready for the party and for Southern Belle's arrival and T has an idea that I should put a sign up in the hallway inviting anyone from the building (this would actually be a first meeting since I have no idea who anyone is) down for a drink and some food. I really don't expect anyone to show up since I never actually see anyone. I think everyone was hoping for a guest appearance by the man who lives under the stairs because we are dying to see what he looks like...

So Southern Belle gets here and there are about 8 of us chatting it up and telling stories about my 600 square foot apartment and all of a sudden there is a little knock on the door. It's a waif of a girl holding a handle of bacardi in a brown paper bag excited as ever to come to the party. Her name is Alex and she lives upstairs and of course we made her feel welcome right away. Perhaps tooo welcome.

As soon as I realized that she was on drink #10 and her body weight was about 97 1/2 pounds I knew we were in trouble. That's when the inappropriate touching began. First it was the arm around my shoulder that "happened" to grace my boob. Then it was her hand on my leg (um..i had shorts on) - Wait I'm sorry the stroking of my leg while she told me how good it was to meet me. whooaaa nelly. keep yourself together. i know there isn't a whole lot of action going on up there on the 2nd floor but no need to come down to a party and make advances on me and my friends. everyone is weirded out and no one knows what to say or really do. and of course T is egging her on by announcing every time you could see my bra under my shirt. she then slurs to us that she wants us to go with her to a "secret" bar at Brown. oh wait - this is after she is now drinking the sweet tea vodka on the rocks. and after she has smoked a pack of cigarettes on the front porch. i honestly was surprised she was still standing. we avoid going to the "secret" bar, with the other "secret" lesbians and she gets her friend to pick her up. I also thought I was going to find her sprawled on the ground in front of the steps to 212 waterman with the neighborhood skunk who lives in the dumpster about to crawl over her. but thank god she wasn't.

if the walls in 212 waterman could talk they would have a lot of stories to tell - the beginning of great friendships, new love interests, broken hearts, broken bones, and hours upon hours of reality tv on that pink couch.

And I couldn't have asked for a better ending.

However- that was not the ending of this crazy crazy weekend...to be continued...

What happens when

You mix

One too many John Daley's with
Tequila with
Bday cake in the shape of a sheep with chocolate chips in the frosting with
Dancing like a fool and trying to take your sundress off (of course my bathing suit was on underneath!)with
Sleeping it off in the backseat of your friends car?

A bad scrape over your eye when you fall out of the backseat onto the pavement while innocent bystanders look on and say, "T, your pet is trying to escape. She just fell out of the car."