Sarah Bellum's Tales of Wit and Charm

My timing is impeccable, as usual.  After I submitted my last column about suffering through the Twilight Concert Series at the Gallivan, the advertising manager for the newspaper asked if I would sit at our sponsored booth there.  He hadn’t yet read my column.  Obviously.  I agreed but took RLO along as a buffer, just in case.

The concert was much more enjoyable in the safety of a booth with chairs and free wine.  It was also nice to meet some of our readers and see my friend Michael.

After the concert RLO and I headed over to Liberty Park for the firework display.  Crossing the busy street, I was just about to stupidly walk into oncoming traffic when RLO grabbed my arm and stopped me.  What he should have done is pushed me further into the street.

After all the grief I give that boy online (and offline) he had every right to push me in front of that speeding car.  But I’m sure glad he didn’t.

After my heart slowed down I remembered a comment he said to me last week, “Sarah, given the choice I’d rather have you alive than dead.”  At the time I laughed and told him it was the best compliment I’d ever received.  Now I know it wasn’t meant as a compliment, it was a true statement.  Diamonds aren’t a girl’s best friend… RLO is.

To read my column this week click here. It’s all about the Gallivan concerts, which are tonight.  See you there?

Sitting in the dark movie theater waiting for the movie to start Non-Troll’s phone rang.  It was on silent mode since we were in a theater, but it lit up and I could see someone was calling him.  ANNOYING!

“I hate your phone.”

“Really, why?”

“It’s always ringing.  But don’t feel special because I hate everyone’s phone.”

“I hope I’m never special.”

“Oh honey, you never will be.”

“Ahhh…”

At that point he leaned over and kissed me hard in the middle of the theater.  Any man who can find my abrupt Sarah-speak cute, is a man I plan on keeping around–at least throughout the remainder of the summer.

When I got out of class last night I noticed someone had left a voice mail on my phone. It was from my brother Ben. Weird. Ben never, ever leaves messages. Suddenly I was overcome with anxiety–worried that something may have happened to him or another member of my family.

“Sarah, there’s something really important I need to tell you…”

OHMYGOD! Insert total panic attack here. During his brief pause I imagined every single one of my loved ones dying a horrible, tragic death. His pause was very short, but my crazy, overactive imagination is very fast.

“…..I’ve decided I’m going to grow a mullet again. I just thought you should know. Talk to you later.”

Yes, again. Stupid Ben. I don’t know which is worse: a dead family member, or a brother with a mullet.  But I do know if I had sisters, rather than four brothers this type of message would never happen.  Instead it would be a joyous messaging reminding me about the sale at Nordstrom or about the cute shoes on sale at Aldo.

I had a date Saturday night.  Rather than be creative or at all interesting, we opted for a movie at my place.  I’m quickly realizing the only good taste non-troll doll has is in women, because this is the second worst movie I’ve seen in the past month.  The other god awful movie was also his pick.

I’m not kidding, this movie was so boring I pulled out my iPhone and read the newspaper while he continued to watch.  I continued to refill my wine glass, and even that didn’t make the movie better.  I whined enough that he finally turned the movie off, gave me a kiss and went home.

The next morning I stumbled into the kitchen for coffee and vitamins–the breakfast of champions, yo!  While I waited for the coffee to brew I grabbed a handful of vitamins and reached for an orange vitamin drink that had been left on my counter. I tossed the pills into my mouth and took a giant swig of the orange drink.

Something didn’t taste right.  In fact it was downright disgusting. I spit the drink and pill concoction into the sink.  Still gagging over the taste, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and picked up the drink for a closer inspection.  I’d somehow forgotten he’d mixed a few shots of vodka into the drink.  Warm vodka is one of the least pleasant things to experience on a Sunday morning.  Well that, and church.