Sarah Bellum's Tales of Wit and Charm

Bagel Friday is a holiday for my nerds. They love free bagels at work, and I love seeing them appreciate something outside the Apple product line.

If Apple comes out with a bagel shaped product I’m going to kill myself. Unless, of course, they kill me first for ruining Bagel Friday.

A few months ago, while cutting my bagel, I accidentally sliced my finger. Instead of using the blood as a cream cheese substitute, I dropped the knife and fashioned a tourniquet out of pink Post-it notes and paper towels. I finished just in time to see my Chief Nerd pick up the blood and skin covered knife to slice his bagel.

Inside my head I was screaming at him to stop.

Outside my head… not so much.

I watched as he consumed his bagel and a side of my skin. I wanted to stop him, but couldn’t move. I blame the blood loss.

Later in the day he started complaining about a stomachache.

Holy shit. I poisoned a nerd with awesome. Finally a technical skill to be proud of.

I still wasn’t going to say anything, but I started feeling like an evil cross between Microsoft Windows and every single evil comic book character.

I came clean.

He didn’t talk to me for days.

I didn’t let it bother me. I just assumed he was just super busy morphing into a super sonic Sarah.

I thought the incident had been forgotten, but last week the bagels came pre-sliced. The nerds were ecstatic, which I thought was weird. Typically nerds love using knifes. It’s like a mini-sword fight at the office.

It all made sense when a nerd exclaimed, “This is fantastic. If we could have pre-sliced bagels every Friday, I could keep so much of Sarah’s skin out of my system.”

My nerds are soooo unappreciative.

I’ve been sorta scarce this week. I’ve just been soooooo busy pissing off truck drivers and in turn trying not to let them piss me off.

Actually that’s not true… I don’t mind hateful comments when they are clever and this week’s column sparked a little humor alongside the hate. One ill-intended comment and half a dozen emails later I’m quickly realizing the majority of truckers want to run me over and use me as a mudflap.

Seems like I can’t write anything without pissing someone off. This week: truck drivers, next week: wet kittens. Hopefully the kittens have a better sense off humor.

For years my brother, Ben, and I have been fighting over who my grandma loves more. It’s a ridiculous thing to argue about, as I am clearly the favorite.

Sure, Ben hangs holiday lights for her, but I named my scooter after my grandmother. Plus I have better hair and shower more often.

Ben went to visit my grandparents the weekend before Easter. When I called, all my grandma could talk about was how great it was to see my brother. Rather than be thrilled he made her so happy, I was pissed at him.

I immediately planned a trip the following weekend. It’s important to remind her I’m the one she love the most.

While driving to the country, I left Ben a voicemail with my somewhat deviant plan to win her back.  Here’s the voicemail from his phone. Try not to pay attention to my icky manlike voice.

For the record, my grandmother declared me the winner. She encouraged future competition. She said it’s to ensure more visits from the both of us, but I know she’s only going along with it so Ben doesn’t get his feelings hurt. She’s a good woman and doesn’t want to tell my brother she loves me more.

Even though it’s soooooo obvious.

“You know how I’m obsessed with making lists and Google docs?”

“Yeah, Sarah, I know.”

“Well, I created a Google doc for all of your good and bad qualities.”

“You did? I want to read it.”

“No. What if it hurts your feelings?”

“Sarah, it won’t. I promise.”

“Oh riiiight, because you don’t have any feelings… that’s already on the list.”

I detest grocery shopping.

I hate thinking about the calories sitting in my cart. I hate trying to find food I can actually eat. And I especially hate handing over my bank card.

It’s all bullshit.

Last night when faced with starvation I ignored the hatred and headed to Harmons.

While trying to find the perfect apple I heard someone behind me.

“Ma’am I think you dropped your shopping list.”

I ignored the shit out of him.

“Excuse me… ma’am you dropped something.”

I wasn’t about to let someone get away with calling me ma’am, so I continued to ignore the shit out of him.

“MA’AM DID YOU HEAR ME? I think you dropped your shopping list.”

“Of course I heard you. I’m just ignoring you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said I was ignoring you. I don’t respond when people call me names.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, you must have heard me wrong. I didn’t call you a name.”

“THERE YOU GO AGAIN. Stop calling me that!”

I placed the apples in my cart and in a dramatic huff turned and walked away.  Just as I was about to leave the produce section I hear a booming voice.

“MISS, I THINK YOU FORGOT YOUR KEGEL EXERCISE INSTRUCTIONS.”

Fuck. My. Life.

This:

was written on the back of this:

I thought I was all ‘Miss Green Party Hero’ for recycling the homework from my gynecologist. Instead, I was ‘Asshole of the Day’ for being a dick to someone trying to help.

I’d like to say I learned my lesson, but that would be a lie. And I don’t have time to worry what the karmic reaction is for lying. I’m going to be very busy trying to figure out how to punch karma in the balls.