In Uncategorized on February 1, 2010 at 7:36 pm

There I am standing in the fem hygiene aisle of Meijer when I see it.

Feminine deoderent spray.

What the hell is that?  Deoderent for the vag?  Who buys this stuff?  Who uses it?  More importantly, who has the forethought to walk into a store to purchase this stuff?  Do you just get up one morning and think, “You know, I know I’ve finally got that pesky underarm issue under control, but it would really just be great if I could eliminate the apparent abandoned fish market odor I’ve got going on in my drawers.  I wonder if they’ve got a spray for that.” 

You’re in luck!  It turns out they do!  How did I go 27 years without knowing about this?!

I begin scanning the shelves with gusto.  I know, it’s weird that I get excited about something like a Febreeze for your lady parts, if you will.  They actually have spray to make your va-jay-jay smell like Tropical rain among other ridiculous scents.  Whoa.  What is going on here?  Who invented this stuff and thought, “I’d really like to go for an exotic feel for the nether region.  I want to get a nice whiff of a tropical rain storm every time I drop trou.” 

Oh, Summer’s Eve.  You creep me out.  Truly.  And it’s not just the fact that your whole company is built around the goal of turning a vagina that smells like hot garbage into a veritable bouquet of orchids.  No.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, the scents you’ve chosen to, um, enhance your products really are weird.  The names alone make them sound very floral and old lady-esque.  It’s the fact that whoever created Summer’s Eve had a need for this stuff that really skeeves me out.  Someone had a need of vaginal odor eaters and went out and created it.  

God bless America. 

You’re totally catering to the wrong audience though.  I can almost garauntee you that most women aren’t sitting around their homes by themselves wondering how they can better their own personal scent for themselves.  Women only worry about that stuff when they’ve got a hot date with a sex beast and they know that tonight is the night.  And when that time comes, I don’t think said sex beast wants to rip off a pair of panties and suddenly get knocked in the nostrils with a scent that reminds him of his Great Aunt Hilda.  Total wa-wa-waaaa sitution. 

Have you thought about coming out with some scents for his pleasure?  Hmm?  Like, oh, I don’t know- Pepperoni pizza?  Leather?  New car smell?  Money?  Beer?!  I could see a guy really getting into that!  Maybe more women who have never bought your product would start deeming it a necessity if they knew that their man would go apeshit enough over the scent of money that he might spend some, er- extra time?- in that vacinity.

Mull over my ideas, Summer’s Eve.  When you decide to put them into play, I’ll be waiting for reap the rewards from your new found boost in sales.  Checks can be made payable to Sarah.



In Uncategorized on January 16, 2010 at 4:18 am

 “Babe!  I friggin’ dislodged my filling from my tooth.  Stupid frozen Snicker’s bar…”

“What?  You mean refrigerated.  I put it in the refrigerator for you.”

“Yeah, I know.  And then I moved it to the freezer.”

“What the hell?!  Why would you do that?”

“I dunno.  Why do you put Zingers in the freezer?  Because they taste better that way.  Jesus, you’re dense when you first wake up.”

“No, I’m not dense.  It’s not the same thing, Sarah.  Zingers are cake, they don’t freeze all the way!  It’s not like a Snicker’s bar.”

“Well a Snicker’s bar doesn’t freeze all the way either.  The nougat doesn’t get that hard….well, I mean, I guess it does.  But that’s not what ruined my tooth, it was the caramel.”

“Sarah, I’ve had nougat before.  It gets hard in the freezer.  Don’t bullshit me.”

“Oh really?  You’ve had a Snicker’s bar?  How’d that work out for you?  You’re allergic to peanuts.  I’m not buying what you’re selling.”

“No!  I’ve had frozen 3 Musketeers, ok?  It’s the same thing.”

“Um, actually it’s not the same thing, it lacks the caramel and peanuts that make a Snicker’s a Snicker’s.  Besides, that’s not nougat.  It’s like, whipped marshmallow shit with chocolate in it.”

“No, it’s not.  It’s nougat.  Listen to me!  Milky Way, Snicker’s, 3 Musketeers they’re all-”

“Made by Mars.  Contain more consanants than vowels.  Make no sense for being the name of a candy-”

“GAH!  NO!  Damn it.  They all have nougat.”

“No.  3 Musketeers does not.  I’m googling this shit.  And when I come back with an answer that backs up my own claim, I’ll have a list of demands.”

“Will one of those be to go fuck yourself?”

“Yeah, babe, one of my demands for you is for me to go fuck myself.  You’re stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

I busy myself Googling as he begins to make his coffee for work.  I’m excited.  I’m giddy.  I love being right.  I love it so much I’m thinking about divorcing him and marrying myself.  I click on the 3 Musketeer’s website that Google provides me with and then-

“Well, what’s it say?  Am I right?”

“Ya know, babe.  It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, yes!  I’m right!  I’m right!  YES!”

“You suck.  Who cares?  This is like one out of close to a billion times.”

He saunters over to me with his hand raised out like the damn Pope.  Seriously?  You’ve got to be kidding.

“Go ahead, Sarah.  Kiss the hand.”

I consider biting it. 

“Shut up.  I’m going upstairs.  I’m blogging about this.”

“And then everyone will know that you were wrong and I was right!”

“Are you kidding me?  I’m totally switching this around.  People are just going to think that you’re a douche who doesn’t know what nougat is.”

“Wha-?  Why?!  Oh, come on, Sarah!  You better tell it like it is.”

“No.  I get to be the hero on my blog.  You get to be my bumbling sidekick.  Know your role!”

Pointless arguments.  Just one of the many reasons that I am so vomitously in love with the wonder-man that is my husband. 

I love you, babe.  Happy Anniversary.

Because climbing a fucking mountain to solve a water crisis makes complete sense…

In Uncategorized on January 14, 2010 at 4:51 am

Dear (insert desperate B-list celebrity on ridiculous Mt. Kilimanjaro climb here),

Well, wow. After six days, some snow, some altitude sickness, and a whole lotta publicity, you finally made it to the the summit. Congratulations! You have single handedly solved the water crisis that is affecting millions each day!

Yeah. So I’m full of shit.

I swear to God. Never in my life have I come across a bigger bunch of tools than you kids. When I first came across an article about this brilliant plan of climbing a fucking mountain to bring awareness to us self-absorbed pricks in the U.S. and water to the thirsty, I literally did a spittake. Coffee. All over the damn page. Next, several questions popped into my mind:

  1. Jessica Biel? Emile Hirsch? I’m sorry, were all the important celebs that people look to for charity guidance (i.e. those that actually give a shit about which celeb is supporting what cause) taken? The last semi-decent film Emile “the douch” Hirsch was in was Into the Wild and have we forgotten that Jessica hasn’t done anything since playing the token slutty daughter on 7th Heaven? Oh. No one else wanted to do it? Because it was a pointless venture? Dude.
  2. With my point being made about the clout that these celebrities don’t posess, really, what was the goal? If you wanted to just gather a group of overpaid individuals to climb a mountain, why didn’t you just say so? Because you had to go and turn it into a, “Look at me, look at me! I help good!” event.
  3. Is it too much to ask that the sponsors of this even simply reach out? I mean, why not strike up a conversation neighbor style like I had to when I was forced to sell low-grade chocolate door to door for junior high? “Hey- so we’d like to collect some money to make sure everyone has access to clean drinking water? Could you donate a few bucks? Otherwise I’m afraid we’re going to have to take a bunch of spoiled rich kids and a few overly liberal women who enjoy giving their armpits the “fuzzy squirrel” treatment up to the top of a mountain to get some attention here. What? No. We’re not going to leave them up there. Oh- that’s so generous of you! Thank you for your donation!”

I started thinking. I wonder what that climb was like. Being in such close proximity with so many idiots must have been thrilling. Did Lupe talk non-stop about being on the Twilight: New Moon soundtrack? Did Jessica attempt to show off her killer snow bunny moves that she learned on the set of Powder Blue, nearly falling off a ledge and almost taking the rest of you down with her? Did Emile Hirsch start waxing poetic about what an “awesome Hamlet” he’s going to be and how he can “play Hamlet like no other?” I’m amazed that no one leapt to their demise. I think I would have.

Here’s a thought. You guys get paid millions of dollars each year for showing up at stores to shop, guest DJing at hot spots around the world, and for just being pretty and showing up to a set to act like your someone else for a few months. Why don’t you get crazy and cut a nice fat check a piece? Oooh! Or to show your dedication to the cause, why don’t you go through what these villagers have to go through each day! You can drink infested water or just go without. Your choice. If people don’t take you seriously now, they probably won’t might then!

Off to make a dartboard with your group picture,