Tales of Wit and Charm…

I absolutely love Wilco, yet I’ve never heard them play. Sad, right? Not to fret my lovelies, they are coming to SLC this summer!

So when a guy I recently met mentioned buying tickets and having us go together I wasn’t exactly sure how to feel. Obviously it would be fun to go with him, but the concert isn’t until mid-August. The concert will, without a doubt, sell out fast. So do I want to risk saying yes and then if we aren’t still hanging out be stuck without a ticket? Hell to the no. I kid you not about my love of Jeff Tweedy. But then I also don’t want to risk offending him, since he seems like a pretty cool guy. Ahhhhh, what to do??

At dinner last night he mentioned his age. This shouldn’t be a big deal, but I thought he was older than he really is. He’s 28, which is a whopping four years younger than me. FOUR WHOLE YEARS! This guy is a kid; he’s in his 20s!! I’m sure he’d mentioned his age, but as you can see by all my editing mistakes on this blog… I suck with small details. With this newfound knowledge my decision is made: I’m buying my own ticket. I can’t risk him outgrowing me before the concert.

And if that’s not enough to make me a bitchy person, I bring you my latest foot in mouth moment…

Yesterday while getting on the elevator, my CUTE! polka dot shoes nearly made me trip. The two men in the elevator looked at me curiously and I said, “Sorry, it seems like I’m having a gimp day.” Neither man said a word to me, and went back to their conversation.

Two floors later the elevator stopped and they stepped out, one walking with a VERY distinct limp. The other man turned and gave me the look of death. Great. Just great. I’ve moved from offending Republicans to the handicapped.

To read my column this week click here. When you finish please pray to whatever god you believe in, that I may be blessed with extraordinary kickball skills by six o’clock tonight. Otherwise, pray I don’t punch anyone who makes fun of me in the face.

I was on my way to pick up my brother, Ben, and his girlfriend for the Ben Folds/Ben Lee concert when he called me.

Ben: “Hey, Sarah, quick question for you.  Do my hips swivel when I walk?”

Sarah: “Yup.  It’s like some crazy hip phenomenon.  I’m sure that’s why you’re always complaining about hip pain.”

Ben: “Hmm… no matter what, when my girlfriend asks you say no.”

His girlfriend didn’t ask, and I really don’t want to know why they were discussing my brother’s hips, just like he really didn’t want to read about my vibrator on the Internet.

Blogging is so much like high school. I remember Pants telling me this, and I shrugged it off thinking it couldn’t be all that bad. It is. When blogging you put yourself out there for anyone to read, that’s the point, right? Sometimes you read a blog not because you are “stalking” the person, but because you enjoy the writing. Rather than bother myself with it, I’m going to revamp the old RSS feed. This is where you come in. I need a daily does of blogs to read. I’m a blog junkie! I’d love some new recommendations on entertaining, well-written blogs. Email or comment me if you have any. My RSS feed and I will be eternally grateful!

Moving on.

Wine was spilled last night, and again it was not my fault. Learning my lesson, I kept my cup in hand the entire time. Even then it still got kicked over. You’d think it would be impossible but a fellow concert kicked the cup out of my hand as he passed, causing it to spill all over Aimee. There was no attempted apology. Which may have been my fault–I think I offended him. I tend to expand my vocabulary to include every expletive I know when someone kicks my hand. It hurt therefore I’m 100% justified–that’s how it works, yo!

Aimee was soaked in red wine. Which totally made it okay to plot revenge. She had a plan, that is until sweet Sue intervened. “God is watching you, Aimee.” Aimee looked to me for an answer. “It’s Baby Jesus I’d be concerned with, and he must be asleep by now. Go for it.” I knew it was mean, but I was bitter. I wanted to get through an outside concert without having my drink displayed all over my friend’s clothing and blanket. Just one! Is that really too much to hope for?

In the end there was no revenge plan executed. Once the word karma got thrown into the conversation it was all over. The gods of karma better pay off today, or I’m going to be pissed!