Sarah Bellum's Tales of Wit and Charm

One childhood memory stands above all others. I remember crying over something absolutely ridiculous as a kid, you know, because that’s what kids do.

My dad looked at me and said, “Sarah what’s your last name?”

I managed to stop the sobbing long enough to whisper, “Nielson.”

“That’s right. You’re a Nielson. We are strong and don’t cry.”

I’m sure he was trying to get me to shut the hell up because we were in public. What he didn’t know, at the time, was that moment and phrase would forever be ingrained into my memory.

Refusing to cry is not a healthy behavior, I know. I cry on occasion, but usually at home over a tub of ice cream, never in public, and especially never in a movie. Obviously I’m broken, so there’s no need to point that out. I get it. I also get that I need to fix this behavior. Probably with therapy and vodka. Until that happens I found a solution.

Last night I saw “The Blind Side” with my friend Susan. The movie melted my heart repeatedly. Enter solution: Every time I felt like crying I looked at Susan and demanded her to cry. She did, because that’s what good friends do.

The only problem with this temporary fix is the convenience factor. I’m going to have to arrange all emotion around Susan’s schedule. This will be incredibly difficult around the holidays, so no one is allowed to get hurt, die or invite me to a wedding until January. Capish?

This week’s “That’s What She Said” column is all about my newest TV boyfriends. I love TV boyfriends because they are less work than the real ones. Plus they don’t pee on the bathroom floor or leave the toilet seat up.

Also this week the magazine posted our holiday wish lists. You can read mine here. My list is towards the bottom of the page. Mom, if you’re reading please don’t try and have Santa bring me number four on the list. That would be weird as shit… even for our family.

I can’t fit into my jeans, but other than that today was a complete success. I was in charge of the potatoes again, thank God because there’s something freaky about fisting a dead bird. I love eating the stuffing, but not enough to stick my hand up there. No way.

The highlights of the day included AK looking up the bird’s ass, and Mrs. AK’s pornographic cranberries.

It was a damn good day, well maybe not for Arnold the Turkey, but the rest of us sure enjoyed it. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

I have a ‘no blogging about clients’ rule. Sadly, observing this rule keeps me from sharing some truly comical stories. It sucks, but I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and the last thing I need is to get fired for talking about clients online. Again.

However, rules were made to be broken, right? Didn’t someone once say that if you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space? Well that is the exact same thing as being called fat.

I hate being called fat.

I also hate being called a dog, which totally happened today.

During a client meeting one of the account executives brought in a plate of treats. After working through lunch to prepare for my presentation I was starving, so I dug right in. The client recommended the wheat-free ginger snaps. I tried one and loved it. And then he casually mentioned it was dog food.

Um, WHAT?

I wish I were kidding. I had a minor meltdown. It’s not every day a client feeds you dog food. No one could understand my concern, since the treats were made from human grade ingredients. WHO CARES? I ATE DOG FOOD. AT WORK. Life will never, ever be the same.

Last night I felt like getting fancy. Not the kind of fancy that involves a little black dress and heels, hell, my fancy night didn’t even involve real pants. In my house fancy means pajamas without stains and my good slippers. It also means Grape-Nuts in a martini glass.

My life is a series of embarrassing moments. Today’s embarrassment is brought to you in part by a tube of lipstick.

Normally I’m not a lipstick person. If you open my purse you’ll find Hello Kitty glitter lip-gloss and my standby Dr Pepper Lip Smacker. Shut up, it tastes good and the color is pretty. Today, however, I wore real lipstick. Not necessarily because I wanted to, but because my DP lip-gloss was missing.

I forgot about my heavily made-up lips and went to school.

As I was leaving the paid parking lot I put the parking slips between my lips. I needed both hands to rummage through my bag for money. I handed the parking slip and a twenty-dollar bill to the middle-aged parking attendant. The guy who flirts with every day, which I blatantly ignore. He looked at the parking slip and spotted what looked like an intentional lipstick kiss.

“Oh Sarah, thank you for the kiss. I wondered when that would finally happen.”

Oh God.

This sucks on so many levels. Now, in an effort to avoid him, I’ll be forced to park in student parking. Which is good, I guess, since I drove off without my change. College educations are so damn expensive.