Sarah Bellum's Tales of Wit and Charm

I’ve never been a cat person. I’m allergic and my only cat experience resulted in tragedy. A high school crush gave me a kitten as a gift. I named him Christian Laettner-Slater Psychedelic Furry Cat. Not only was his name unfortunate, but so was his death. A week later, the poor kitty was crushed by our garage door. I cried a bit and immediately decided I was more of a dog person anyway.

Fast forward a few years. Fine. Fast forward a LOT of years.

What my new agency lacks in nerds, they make up for in cats. Yes, cats. There are at least four feral cats living in our parking lot. I ignore them, but everyone else has cat scratch fever– a rare and creepy condition contracted when visiting Ted Nugent’s website.

Where was I? Oh yes, the cat obsession. One of the partners placed a large dog house on our lawn, complete with a heating pad for the kitties. The following week I noticed the cat house had been decorated for the holidays with lights and tiny Hello Kitty stockings.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m jealous of a herd of feral cats. Those little bastards have more holiday cheer than I do…

Last week I was worried about presenting a media plan to a client’s board of directors. I’ve never been good at presenting and tend to stress out way more than I need to.

The night before my meeting, I explained to FSB(f) everything that could go wrong and how I would ultimately fail, lose the client, let down my agency, get fired and end up living on the streets. He rolled his eyes, but patiently listened because that’s what good boyfriends do when they want you to put out.

The next day I found this note in my laptop bag:

I was so busy worrying about why he thought I would lick a note, that I didn’t have time to obsess over possible failure. Needless to say, the presentation went okay and he got some.

“Hey Sarah, have you ever seen The Edge of Darkness with Mel Gibson?”

“No.”

“His daughter gets blown away with a shotgun.”

“Ugg…  why do you feel the need to share this crap with me?”

“Calm down, I didn’t finish the movie. I hated it.”

“Good.”

“Not because of the daughter, but the bad Boston accents. They were horrible.”

One of my New Year’s resolutions was to stop cheating so much on my vegan diet.

This particular resolution lasted two whole days.

Sporty Nerd brought homemade cookies into the office and delivered them to me via remote controlled truck. These aren’t any old cookies; these cookies are crack cocaine chocolate chip cookies. They are impossible to refuse!

So I didn’t. I enjoyed the hell out of them. And then immediately changed my resolution to only cheating on veganism when nerds, toys and/or addictive drugs are involved.

Me: What did you do with your hair when you cut it off?

Dirty Nerd: I gave it to my mom to fertilize her garden.

Me: I donated my hair to freaking cancer kids and you donated yours to a crop of vegetables?

Dirty Nerd: Yes and they were delicious.

Me: OH MY GOD, you ate your own hair!

Dirty Nerd: It’s not like it was a bunch of carrots with hair growing out of them.

Me: YES IT WAS.

Dirty Nerd: Sarah, your logic is broken. The hair decomposed and fertilized the plants. It’s not like hair actually grew on the vegetables.

Me: Of course the vegetables grew hair. You ate hairy veggies… no wonder I call you Dirty Nerd.

Dirty Nerd: You’re missing a little part here called THE FACTS.

The conversation ended there because I was so busy laughing over a nerd lecturing me about facts, you know because nerds are so fact oriented. Ahem, time travel, space cowboys and super heroes. Yeah…