Sarah Bellum's Tales of Wit and Charm

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.

Read this week’s “That’s What She Said” for details on dating my doctor. Sad, I know… except I bet I’ll save so much money on co-pays. Money that can buy shoes and booze.

Waiting to die is sort of anticlimactic, don’t you think? I mean you wait for that big moment where you walk towards the light, but then bam you’re dead and it’s over.

I’m waiting to die right this very second. It’s nothing serious like cancer, or swine flu. I cooked dinner. Like from a recipe, not a box. There was nothing pre-packaged about this meal, which is why I’m waiting to die.

I’m certain I gave myself food poisoning. Sure, a little case of food poisoning doesn’t kill the normal person. But I’m not normal. I’m an overachiever. Not for the important things in life like education, career, hobbies or a relationship. I’m an overachiever at shit that doesn’t matter. Dental floss for example.. I’m a crazy overachiever when it comes to Gingivitis. And you know what they say: where there’s a will, there’s a way.

See what I did there? I made a little death pun. You know, because death is anticlimactic AND funny. Right? Ahh, fuck it. You’re going to feel bad you didn’t laugh when I’m dead. Jerks.

Sometimes, when I’m bored, I like to imagine having a conversation with Jesus via Twitter. I don’t know why exactly. It’s just one of those weird things I do.

Dear Jesus, will you please force someone to invent batteries that never die.. specifically battery size AA.

Dear Jesus, vibrators aren’t the only things that require AA. TV remotes need them, too. You know, to watch Christian TV and shit.

Dear Jesus, Sorry I said shit in that last tweet. Sometimes shit just slips out, you know.

Dear Jesus, I totally didn’t intend “shit just slips out” to be a pun. It just happened.. sorry.

Dear Jesus, I apologize for swearing in the last three tweets. Please don’t take it out on my batteries. I need those bastards.

Dear Jesus, is bastard a swear word?

Are you there Jesus? It’s me Sarah. The shit-talker. Why aren’t you @replying me?

Dear Jesus, stop ignoring me, please.

Dear Jesus, I’m starting to get seriously pissed off here. I said ‘please’ and everything.

Dear Jesus, UNFOLLOW! No, I’m not kidding. I’m totally unfollowing you until you make nice.

HINTS FOR JESUS: fixing that battery problem would be a great way to make nice, or flowers.

This week’s “That’s What She Said.” To sum up my column: MY HOUSE IS HAUNTED. That’s all. The end.

See how I didn’t even mention the mean comment someone left on the column? Oh wait, I just did. Oops.