Tag Archives: Twin

Wine & Love v.2

16 Feb

Hosted by Nora

Fair warning: I have a lot of feelings this week. After writing this out, though, there are still more Loves than Wines. Which counts as another Love for me.

… Wines …

  • Not having enough hours in the day to do everything I want – or feel I need – to get done. I’m learning more and more than I have the type of personality where I need to do everything really well and do it really well right away. Oh, hi, Type A Perfectionist, you’re stressing me out.
  • On the same note, I’m frustrated that I’m not just magically perfect and seamlessly adjusted to my new job. I know I’m doing well and catching on quickly, but new things are hard! I just want to be good at everything NOW.
  • The mousetrap in my bedroom worked. Dead mouse = unhappy Sara. (There was blood.)
  • I haven’t seen Twin in two whole weeks. After working together for the last fours years, going on vacations together, and also hanging out every weekend, that feels like a lifetime. I miss her.

… Loves …

  • The mousetrap in my bedroom worked. Dead mouse = happy Sara. (There’s no more mouse.)
  • I’m coming to the realizing that while my list of best-friends-ever-in-the-whole-world is shrinking a little bit, the people making the cut are irreplaceable. 
  • I took a boxing class this week (a legit one – boxing gloves, ring, punching bag, the works) and loved it! Also, I’m so sore but in the way that I’m just constantly reminded that I pushed my muscles to do something outside of their comfort zone.
  • Speaking of comfort zones, I asked a boy out on a date and he said yes. Details to come, but boy is that exhilarating!
  • I got my first paycheck! And my tax return! And! My security deposit from my old apartment! My riches are not permanent, but after two months of stressing about rent and bills, it feels nice to have the freedom to make a budget again! Yay income!
  • My brother is coming to visit this weekend! I’m so thrilled – we are totally sticking to our pact to see each other every month this year. (Seriously – we’re already for March – his birthday, April – family vacation, and May – BiSC!)

Teddy Bears & Gorilla Suits: A Harrowing Tale

2 Sep

This is a story about fear. Not the kind of vaguely exciting fear that comes with a new life change and not the kind of fear that grips you when a spider/roach/bee comes too close. This is a story about the kind of fear that remains dormant in your subconscious for years, only to be awakened at the most unexpected moment…

When I was 2 years old, I was obsessed with teddy bears. I had tons of stuffed bears of all sizes and loved them all. Apparently, I loved teddy bears so much that I wanted a teddy bear-themed 3rd birthday party. Not one to shy away from themes, my mom went all out. I had a teddy bear cake, teddy bear plates, napkins, party favors, etc. I’m sure I also had all my stuffed bears attending the party as well. Probably in outfits, since that’s the kind of kid I was.

See? I loved teddy bears.

Anyway, since it was my 3rd birthday party and I was officially a Big Girl – I even had a little brother now! – my mom wanted to make the experience extra special. There was a surprise coming!

In walked a giant singing bear! My mom looked at me expectantly, waiting to see my face light up with a huge grin. Instead, I crumbled into a pile of screams and tears.

I was absolutely terrified.

I guess my parents had the bear leave, simultaneously apologizing while trying to console their now shrieking 3 year-old. Needless to say, the “real life bear” was a bit much for me to handle.

This is me at 3, having recovered from the Giant Bear Fiasco

Fast forward 21 years and I’m about to turn 24. I’ve been at a new job for a few months and Twin had just begun working with me a few weeks earlier. Since she was new to the office and since we have a habit of humiliating each other on our birthday’s – in as public of a way as possible – I had gotten her these two enormous clown balloons that she then had to carry home with her. On the subway. To Queens.

There were two of these monsters.

So, on the day of my 24th birthday, I’m a little apprehensive going into work. I arrive and my desk is empty. No giant balloons yet. As afternoon approaches, I’m a little on edge. And then it happens.

While I may appear to be laughing, I'm actually shaking with terror and holding back tears.

Four of my best friends had gotten me a singing telegram. In the form of a giant, hot pink, coconut-bra-and-tutu-wearing gorilla. And as Twin look at me expectantly, ready for my face to light up with laughter, I fought back tears. See, I don’t really remember my 3rd birthday party with the Giant Bear Fiasco, but that fear that was instilled in me back in 1987? That fear is still very much there.

There’s a reason I hate the Times Square characters on the street. There’s a reason people in animal suits absolutely petrify me. I’d simply forgotten it was there – and of course I’d never mentioned it to my friends.

I mean, how do you casually say, “By the way, I have an unreasonable yet paralyzing fear of people in animal costumes but I’m not totally sure why.”?

After this harrowing experience – you can see my facial expressions were mangled with laughter and grins hiding my utter horror – I called my mom and explained what happened and the anxiety that plagued me. (I mean, I was shaking for hours after this).

She simply burst out laughing and – albeit slightly guiltily – relayed to me the story of my 3rd birthday party.

Annually Blacking Out on Valentine’s Day

20 Feb

Am I like, subconsciously self-destructive on Valentine’s Day? I really don’t care much either way about the holiday. I’m sure I’d find it to be incredibly romantic and sweet if I were ever dating someone on the day (or totally awkward timing) but I never am so I just don’t really care about it.

However, I do like to get dressed in hot pink or red and I definitely use it as an excuse to go out with my best girlfriends and dance the night away looking hot or really ugly depending on how drunk I get. Which, given the last two years, is way too drunk. Here’s what happened last week and why, subsequently, I was absolutely dying on Sunday. I mean I didn’t even get out of bed until 7pm. That’s bad.

Anyway, I don’t know what happened. I mean I do – but only to a certain extent. Like I’ve told you, Quasi-Stepsister Alex came over and so did Bex and we had a couple drinks and hung out in my room and bonded. Alex pretended to be me on gchat with Eager Beaver Wesley (who’s invitation to dinner tomorrow night came Friday afternoon and which I have chosen to ignore). Around 10:30, Bex and I met Twin at a midtown bar where our friend bartends. Bex found some rando black dude and almost immediately began making out/gyrating with him on the dance floor/in a booth. Thankfully, Twin is a stellar wingwoman and we danced by ourselves until we found our-friend-the-bartender’s-girlfriend, who is awesome and tons of fun. We hung out with her and her friends and took some shots thanks to our-friend-the-bartender and took full advantage of the open bar in ever way possible (read: lots of drinks.).

At some point, Bob Saget tried to approach Twin and me, although Twin explained that she was married and I explained I was Jessica. This made sense at the time. We proceeded to glare at Bob Saget to indicate our strong feelings of reproach, at which point Bex emerged from her black dude and within about 83 seconds was making out with Bob Saget.

Now, Twin and I tried our best to prevent and then stop these things from happening, we really did, but if you know Bex, you know that when she is on a mission, she is unstoppable. So we judged a bit and moved on and then apparently I blacked out. The next thing I knew, Marathon Man, Twin’s husband of four years and also a forest ranger from Vancouver had arrived. In real, sober life, Marathon Man is Twin’s boyfriend of about four months. He is from about an hour upstate.

I definitely tried to claim him as my boyfriend, which he nicely played along with. The poor guy really had no idea that when he started dating Twin he was also required to become my wingman/saving grace from sketchy dudes. Unfortunately, Marathon Man kind of failed, since I learned the next day I’d given my number (and real name – what?!) to someone. I learned this because he texted to say happy Valentine’s Day and also called me and also texted “hey sarah how are you?”. The number was not saved in my phone, I don’t remember talking to anyone remotely attractive or even unattractive. Obviously each attempted contact went ignored and the mysterious 917 number has not appeared in my phone since Monday.

Back to the actual night. Marathon Man failed and then I blacked out again and I got in a cab with Bex who lives in Brooklyn and she informed me later that she got dropped off at a subway stop. I managed to get myself home and spent the entire next day miserable and dying for no apparent reason, since I did not mix alcohols or have tequila.

So I can only gain from this experience the assumption that Drunk Sara must be really miserable on Valentine’s Day but also must be nice enough to Sober Sara to let her think she doesn’t care, since Drunk Sara just blacks out and then Sober Sara has no idea what happened.

Barbados Countdown: 25 Days

13 Feb

I’m going to Barbados on March 10 with Twin, B, and Twin’s bff. March 10 is 25 days away and my brand new Target bikini just came in the mail. Now, winter in NYC is not really conducive to maintaining a svelte figure, but somehow the past few months I’ve gotten way softer than I ever meant to. I tried on the bathing suit and let’s just say…not ok.

So what did I do? Obviously I took pictures of myself in said bikini (and three others, since when does any girl go on vacation with only one bikini?) and saved them to my computer. If seeing myself up on my computer screen isn’t motivation to get my ass to the gym, I don’t know what is.

My point is, people, that this Barbados Countdown is going to have to happen every few days (I’m thinking 5) to keep myself on track. Maybe, after 24 days, I will post before/afters, but only if I look hot enough to admit how crappy I look now!

Also, I owe you guys a Cali Boy update, I know. Or a few. I promise it’s coming.

Like, totally!

18 Oct

Several months ago, Twin and I were on our way to yet another company happy hour open bar event (somehow these manage to get scheduled on a monthly basis at least). We had to walk up 8th avenue for about 15 blocks, which was the perfect amount of time for me to relay a story to Twin. At this point, I have no idea what the story entailed. All I know is that it was the end of a long day and I was very passionate about getting this story across (shocker).

So we’re walking up 8th and I am heatedly telling Twin whatever it was I had to tell her. It was likely venting about something at work or one of my roommates or something and so there was a lot of “Ohmygod, and then she was like [blah blah blah] and then I was like [blah “>blah blah!]” and so on. I’m sure it was not the most intriguing story and I know I was certainly not speaking eloquently by any stretch of the imagination. But that really wasn’t the point.

In the middle of one of my “ohmygod, like, whatever” statements, this woman cuts in front of me (this takes skill, since walking past Port Authority at 6:30pm in the middle of the week is just a little bit crowded). She turns to me, her anger actually tangible, and says in the most cutting tone:

“Do you have ANY IDEA how many times you have just said LIKE???”

Twin and I stopped dead in our tracks as this woman continued walking with a weird air of pride and vindication. We looked at each other in shock (and slight horror) and then immediately burst out laughing.

I mean, what? Ok, sure, I was saying “like” a lot. I realize that. Sometimes when I’m tired (or not, even) and sometimes when I speak quickly and heatedly, “like” is a filler word that appears on my speech more times than it should. But again – what?!

I wasn’t offended by this woman’s absurd explosion – I was actually incredibly amused – but what really struck me was how fucking angry she was. So angry, so appalled, that she felt the need to tell me, a total stranger on 8th avenue, how disgusted she was with the way I was telling a story. I think it made her angrier that all I could do was stare incredulously back.

As if that outburst weren’t inappropriate enough, Twin and I continued up the street (an awkward 2-3 feet away at all times from this woman) and then had to stop at a red light. On the corner. Next to this woman. And of course she felt the need to turn to me, AGAIN, and express her utter disgust at my speech pattern 3 blocks ago. “Really, do you have to say ‘like’ so many times? It’s just ridiculous.”

Of course Twin burst out laughing again as I just stared blankly at this woman, probably reaffirming her snap judgement that I am an airheaded ditz with very poor conversation skills.

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