Sarah Bellum's Tales of Wit and Charm

Every family dynamic is different and while I can respect that, it’s my strong belief that my family is superior. I am a Nielson, after all, and we are a stubbornly narcissistic bunch.

Perhaps it’s because I have a bunch of rowdy brothers, or maybe because we grew up in the country, whatever the reason, we are a VERY vocal family.

We yell, call each other names and curse until we are blue in the face. In spite of this I know, without a doubt, my brothers love the hell out of me, and would do anything in the world for me. I would do the same for them.

WHICH is why I can easily communicate my feelings when I’m upset with them.

My feelings usually go something like this:

“Jeff, you’re fucking pissing me off right now and if we continue talking I’ll likely punch you in the balls, or at least shave your eyebrows off the minute you fall asleep.”

This didn’t happen when we were kids.

This happened last night.

The details of the fight aren’t important. What’s important is his response:

[Insert long lecture here] followed by, “I’m sorry I pissed you off, Sarah. You’re the best sister I could ever ask for. I love you and we can hug it out later.”

The Nielson siblings don’t really hug (with the exception of illness, drunken debauchery, or a family funeral). Our definition of hugging is what others call wrestling.

We are crazy, but we are family. Thank god.

This week’s “That’s What She Said” for In Utah This Week is a country weekend lifesaver.

I know, I know… ANOTHER column about the country. Tough shit. Just read it already.

Last week I took my nephew and two nieces to see “Alice in Wonderland.” I love spending time with them, but taking three small children to a movie wasn’t my best idea.

Kids are sort of a pain in the ass. They, like, need stuff.

Popcorn

Soda

Candy

Help in the bathroom

I know, right? What six-year-old needs help in the bathroom. Um, the ones who don’t want to be molested by strangers apparently.

I think I saw about 20 minutes of the movie.

Just when I was considering ripping my uterus out and throwing it against the movie screen my niece Hannah looks at me with big eyes and said, “Aunt Sarah I am so glad today is Thursday. I’ve been excited about seeing you all week. This is probably the best day of my life.”

Kids. What assholes.

They really know how to tug the heartstrings.

“Hannah, every day with you is the best day of my life.”

“I KNOW, RIGHT?”

There’s nothing cuter than a child who mimics my annoying speech patterns.

The nerds were talking about reincarnation yesterday. It wasn’t as spiritual as you might think. They use reincarnation as an excuse to talk about what animals they would like to be.

There were a lot of wolf, tiger and ninja requests.

Go figure.

I know ninjas aren’t animals, but you try telling that to a passionate nerd who collects medieval weapons. I really don’t want a Chinese throwing star lodged into my head.

One nerd is unlike all the others. He’s some sort of nerd hybrid who doesn’t believe in playing hypothetical reincarnation games.

I KNOW, RIGHT?

“Sarah, I don’t want to be reincarnated. After 80 years of life I’ll be done.”

“But what would you do in heaven?”

“Relax, listen to music and stuff.”

“I don’t think that’s how heaven works. I’m pretty sure you have some sort of job, like answering prayers for people.”

“Fine. I’ll be a soldier and fight Satan with a big, glowing sword.”

I should have paid closer attention to church as a kid. I had no idea the Bible was written by George Lucas.