Tales of Wit and Charm…

Sarah: “Are you going to Uncle Cabbage Patch’s party tomorrow?”

Ben: “Nope. I’m out of town for the weekend.”

Sarah: “Liar. You’re coming, I’ll pick you up.”

Ben: “Sarah, seriously, I’ll be in Delta.”

Sarah: “Doing what?”

Ben: “Walking around in a field carrying a gun that I’ll never shoot. It’s hunting.”

Sarah: “Oh, I sorta forgot that existed. Why exactly are you doing this?”

Ben: “I’m getting in touch with my masculine side.”

Sarah: “You could do that here you know. Just drink too much and bang some slut you’re never going to call again.”

I haven’t blogged much about my new job. After my last experience can you blame me?

I’ve been spending my days at a local media technology company. There are under ten people with only one other female. And get this, I like her! I’m sure my old work mates are falling out of their chairs, since I typically dislike other females in the office.

Today, while in a lunch meeting, we discussed chlamydia over pizza. It was at that moment I looked around at my co-workers and knew I was home.

To read this week’s “The Dating Years” column for In Utah This Week go here! Although, it wouldn’t hurt to pick up a real copy. Look how cute the cover is!

Sarah: “What are you doing?”

Ben: “Watching Sports Center in celebration of Eminem’s birthday.”

Sarah: “Since when is white rapping considered a sport?”

Ben: “It’s not, but you asked what I was doing.”

Sarah: “How are we even related?”

Ben: “Well, our mother and father had sex five times and we were two of the results.”

Sarah: “Thanks for clearing that up. I’m going to hang up now.”

Ben: “I think that’s best.”

I was walking Daisy through the Avenues a few days ago, when she stopped walking and started sniffing around some bushes in front of an apartment complex. Trying to change the music on my iPod I was distracted and wasn’t paying attention to her like I should’ve been—especially since she wasn’t on a leash. I looked up and Daisy was on the front steps of the building. A woman who was walking out turned to me and said, “Are you trying to get into the man?” It was then I noticed the sign and replied, “Umm, isn’t it usually the other way around?” She scowled at me and walked away. She may not have found my comment amusing, but that didn’t stop me from giggling the entire way home.

Dear Tim,

Last week marked the third anniversary of your death. And frankly, I’m still pissed off at you for choosing to leave. Sometimes I understand but mostly I’m just mad. Someday I hope that anger fades to forgiveness, but for now I still want to yell at you… only you’re not here to listen.

I still remember the first time I saw you, it was 1998 and you were interviewing for a chemist job. Your hair was way too long, your suit didn’t fit and you rode a bullet bike. I was positive we’d never be friends. And in a way we weren’t… we were family. I admired you more than I was ever willing to admit. I never told you how much you meant to me. I’m not so great with emotions: anger.. yes, tender shit, no. And now you’re gone and I wish I’d been able to tell you how much I cared about you. You and Alex are the older brothers I never had. Both of you loving me in your own weird ways.

Today, while driving home, I passed your street and was overwhelmed with emotion. I came home and cried, and then I threw up. I could almost hear you laughing at me for “having a girl stomach.” Remember how you always teased me for getting sick so easily, and then when I was really sick you were there for me every day. You called me every other day to check up on me. I never told you this, but I saw you driving past my house a couple times a week just to check in and make sure everything looked okay. Tim, you were always there for me. I hope someday I can forgive myself for not being there when you needed a friend.

I don’t know if there’s life after death, but wherever you are I hope you’re happy, and I hope there is beer. I’m going to drink a Corona for you. And I don’t even like Corona.

Love,
Sarah