Tales of Wit and Charm…

The AK’s were busy preparing for the big party last night so Rlo and I stepped in to help. Since I’m worthless in the kitchen and cleaning bores me, they found a task I could handle: taking Little AK to her soccer game. Rlo was to meet us at the field with chairs and drinks. He was late. Which isn’t a big deal, but strangers were talking to me about parenting. Aughhhhh! I considered screaming “stranger danger” at the top of my lungs to get them to stop, but figured the scene wouldn’t be worth it.

Finally the game started and the parents left me alone. At the end of the first quarter Little AK ran over to get her drink. Her drink? Shit. Rlo hadn’t arrived yet, so I made something up about the dangers of being waterlogged during a soccer game. She bought it.

By half time Rlo had arrived with two chairs and two drinks: a Mountain Dew for him, and a Diet Dr Pepper for me. He, too, had forgotten a drink for Little AK. Clearly we would both make lousy parents. However, I wouldn’t be nearly as lousy because at least I shared my drink. Who cares if she ends up more dehydrated because of it. She’ll still love me more than Rlo because I shared and he didn’t.

Dear Stranger.

I did not mean to call your child fat. I really didn’t. You only heard part of my comment. You heard, “Oh my god, look at that chubby kid!”

What I said was, “Oh my god, look at that chubby kid. He is soooooo cute! I want to steal him, take him home and have him terrorize my dog while bringing me drinks and changing the TV channel for me.”

If I hadn’t driven away so quickly you would have heard the entire thing. Sure you would have still glared at me, but for a very different reason. You’d have been upset I wanted to kidnap your child and turn him into a slave. However, at least you would have known I thought he was cute enough to turn into a slave.

Love,
Sarah

Today, AK turns 40. Yes, 40. He’s an old fart, but a beloved one.

AK and I met ten years ago when he moved to SLC to work at the company I where I was employed. I was soon to become his work wife, much to his wife Mrs. AK’s dismay. Not because she was jealous, but because she felt sorry for me. The dude cannot remember where she keeps paper towels. I don’t live with them, but I can tell you where they are kept–IN THE SAME FUCKING SPOT FOR 8 YEARS, that’s where. He also cannot remember that I am in charge of everyone and everything, and he is not. He’s very easily confused. Obviously.

AK and I shared an office for a few years and it was then he became the older brother I never had. He teased me mercilessly for things that should not matter. Who cares if I add a ‘s’ to street names? Foothill(s) Blvd. is in the FOOTHILLS it should have an ‘s’. He also forced me to listen to Toad the Wet Sprocket all day, every day. And did you hear? The band broke up in 1998.

AK and his family quickly became some of my favorite people, and not just because they fed me and kept me in wine. I couldn’t ask for better, more supportive friend in my life than AK. I can’t imagine a life without him, and luckily I don’t have to. We’ve been through a lot together, and I wouldn’t be the person I am without his influence in my life. I love him for that.

Happy Birthday AK! I’m sorry you’re soooooo old, but it could be worse… you could be RLO.

After receiving a couple emails about my last column, I feel like I need to clear something up… I don’t write music reviews.

I listen to music and see a few concerts here and there, in no way does that make me an expert. Apply the same theory to movies and food. I’m not a reviewer by any means. This column is about me, and my life. Yes, I really AM that narcissistic.

With that said, click here for this week’s column, in which I don’t review music or food. Instead you’ll get another peek into my neurotic life.

I absolutely love Wilco, yet I’ve never heard them play. Sad, right? Not to fret my lovelies, they are coming to SLC this summer!

So when a guy I recently met mentioned buying tickets and having us go together I wasn’t exactly sure how to feel. Obviously it would be fun to go with him, but the concert isn’t until mid-August. The concert will, without a doubt, sell out fast. So do I want to risk saying yes and then if we aren’t still hanging out be stuck without a ticket? Hell to the no. I kid you not about my love of Jeff Tweedy. But then I also don’t want to risk offending him, since he seems like a pretty cool guy. Ahhhhh, what to do??

At dinner last night he mentioned his age. This shouldn’t be a big deal, but I thought he was older than he really is. He’s 28, which is a whopping four years younger than me. FOUR WHOLE YEARS! This guy is a kid; he’s in his 20s!! I’m sure he’d mentioned his age, but as you can see by all my editing mistakes on this blog… I suck with small details. With this newfound knowledge my decision is made: I’m buying my own ticket. I can’t risk him outgrowing me before the concert.

And if that’s not enough to make me a bitchy person, I bring you my latest foot in mouth moment…

Yesterday while getting on the elevator, my CUTE! polka dot shoes nearly made me trip. The two men in the elevator looked at me curiously and I said, “Sorry, it seems like I’m having a gimp day.” Neither man said a word to me, and went back to their conversation.

Two floors later the elevator stopped and they stepped out, one walking with a VERY distinct limp. The other man turned and gave me the look of death. Great. Just great. I’ve moved from offending Republicans to the handicapped.

When my mom called last night I thought either she read her will on the Internet and wanted to call and confirm validity, or she was calling to thank me for her Mothers’ Day gift. While neither were the case, she did laugh over the fact I added my gas receipt to her card. Yes, that’s right, I love my mother $44.12 dollars more than Ben does. Proving once again I am a superior being. As it turns out she wanted to talk about something far more important. My death.

“Thanks for driving down yesterday. I’m upset I forgot to have you, Matt and Ben sign some paperwork.”

“What paperwork? If you’re trying to adopt us out I think you’re too late, we are, after all, adults now.”

“Sweetie, I’ve not gotten rid of you yet, so it’s not likely going to happen, besides I’m counting on you to take care of me when I’m old. I figure you owe me. I want you guys to fill out a living will, so if something were to happen to you I’d know what your wishes were.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Is there somewhere in there I can request male strippers and vodka on my deathbed? But why doesn’t Jeff have to fill anything out? You’re getting rid of him, right?”

“Sarah, please be serious about this.  Jeff has a wife that can legally make his decisions.”

“So let me get this straight, because Matt, Ben and I don’t have spouses you’re punishing us with homework?”

“If you’d rather produce a husband that’s fine too.  I’m emailing you the paperwork tomorrow, so you better hurry and find a man.”