Tales of Wit and Charm…

Should I be concerned that someone found my blog by searching “how to prevent pre-marital sex?” I hope this person knows God monitors Google and has been known to track people down to sterilize their naughty parts.

At dinner with friends last night—a dinner I skipped a party to go to—all I could think about was getting home and putting my jammies on. My friend was talking and if asked I wouldn’t have been able to repeat a single thing he said, because I was too busy trying to decide which jammies I’d put on when I got home.

Internally I’m going over my options: pink stripped pug pj’s, pink flannel pj bottoms, my princess sweats… the list goes on and on. From an innocent bystanders view I probably looked intently interested in every word spoken. I wasn’t. I suck.

It’s safe to say hibernation weather is just around the corner.

Just now as I watched a workmate flip his pen I found myself sitting on my hands in an effort not to reach for my letter opener.

Momentarily I was taken back to a time where my then boyfriend would flip anything and everything in hand: pens, poker chips, panties. “Panties?”… you ask. Okay, not panties but I love alliteration. It used to drive me stark raving mad. You know a relationship is going downhill when you’re tempted on a daily basis to stab his hands. This, people, is NOT a good sign.

I explained to my workmate why his action caused such a dramatic look of disdain. He understood.

I, SarahMiddleNameless Nielson, do solemnly swear not to stab anyone in the hand unless they really do deserve it. My workmate does not deserve it–he’s funny and has good taste in music.

Today, there will be no stabbing.

Ben: “I’m thinking of getting hair extensions for my mullet. What do you think?”

Sarah: “You have my full support–it’s a guarantee you won’t have a girlfriend anytime soon. Which means no sister-in-law! Go for it.”

Ben: “Sweet, I’m doing it!”

To read my column for In Utah This Week go here.

All this online dating talk makes me want to retire from the Match scene. That’s okay, right?

I guess I’m not the only one at my house who feels their life spinning out of control: