Who doesn’t close the door in public restrooms?

Ok, enough about Curly Sue (although she is going strong, hanging in there for day 3). Let’s talk about some Important Stuff. Like Stuff that Happens in Public Restrooms.

I never use the handicapped stall. I just can’t. Even after downing a bucket of Wild Cherry Pepsi at a movie, when I really have to pee and there is a long line and it is the only stall available, I won’t use it. What if a legitimately handicapped person comes in right as I’m, um, getting down to business? If I caused someone in a wheelchair to poop their pants because my able-bodied ass was occupying the handicapped stall, the guilt would follow me around my entire life and I wouldn’t even try to argue with St. Peter when he shook his head and turned me away from the Pearly Gates.

There is a lady in my building who always uses the handicapped stall and never shuts the door. You heard that right. She leave the door unlatched. Now, this lady has a handicapped parking tag and sometimes uses a cane, so I am not begrudging her the use of the handicapped stall. But I’ve noticed that her office door is sometimes closed, so she can’t have a disability that would keep her from latching the stall.

Don’t get me wrong; I never close the bathroom door at home and only rarely do I close it at Steve’s (unless I have to see a man about a horse or taking care of some lady business). When I walk in and see the door unlatched and see her feet under the door (of course I look), I start to question myself. Am I being a prude? I mean, it’s not like anyone is going to see anything or even walk past. It’s the last stall. But then I snap back to reality. No, it’s normal to latch the door in public restrooms, just like courtesy flushes or awkward attempts at conversation. As I occupy my stall, I start thinking that maybe it’s a dare. She’s daring me to fling open the door. Or maybe she’s really germophobic, and the merits of latching the door do not outweigh the sheer amount of pathogens that touching the latch would potentially transfer to her hands.

By the time I leave the bathroom, in my mind she has become this passive-aggressive lunatic who goes back to her office to don tissue-box slippers.

She does have that handicapped placard…

Seriously, it’s not that hard.

As Nancy’s birthday lunch comes to a close…


…Dummy McStupidFace makes a fatal mistake.

The bill arrives…

…and the shit hits the fan.

Things get really ugly, really quickly.

The moral of this story? Always, always ask for separate checks.

and bring some small bills, mother fuckers.

I burned my bangs off with a curling iron. True.

So Andy over at Film, Tape, and Steel Strings offered to humor interview me (ok, really I volunteered because I’m still not in the I-can-totally-write-a-funny-blog-post-no-problem mode). Here are the 5 questions he asked me with my answers. Now I’m supposed to send 5 new questions to anyone else who’s interested; just leave me a comment letting me know you’d like to be interrogated interviewed and I’ll come up with 5 brilliant and insightful questions and email them to you. It’s possible that I’ve gotten some of this stuff wrong so check out Andy’s blog for the real rules.

1) If you have one physical possession that means more to you than all others, what is it?

Growing up as a military brat, my family moved a lot and I ending up losing having to part with a lot of stuff, so I view most of my possessions as replaceable. I won’t count the animals, even though legally they are possessions, but if the house was on fire they would probably beat me out of the door (or in Hemo’s case, push me down on her way out a la George Costanza). If my house was on fire and I could only grab one thing, I’d probably grab my electric skillet, because that thing makes some AWESOME hash browns and I even made soup in it once. True, I could buy another one at Wal*Mart for $19.99, but what if Wal*Mart burned down, too? I’d be S.O.L.

2)What is an embarrassing High School moment that you had to live through?

In high school, I played clarinet in the marching band, and no, that’s not the embarrassing moment. My sophomore year, we marched in the Junior Orange Bowl Parade in Florida. I was so pumped. We were going to DisneyWorld, too. Double pumped. I was getting ready at 4am to get on the bus, going through my usual routine of curling my bangs in the infamous claw-over-the-forehead style, when the stench of burning hair assaulted my nose. All 20 strands of hair that made up my bangs had seperated themselves from my head and were seared onto the curling iron. I lost my shit. Crying, screaming, peeking at my crispy baby bangs through red, puffy eyes, I jammed a Mickey Mouse ball cap on my head and boarded the bus with my bandmates. My bangs have never been the same.

3) Who is your “favorite” blogger/blog and why?

My favorite blogger is Dingo over at As I Was Saying. She was one of the first commentors on my blog, and she has become my blog hero. She’s had like a million different jobs, from stewardess to attorney to college professor, and has the baddest Photoshop skills you’ve ever seen. Plus she has a baby pigeon named McJagger (well, maybe he’s not a baby anymore, or even a boy, and maybe he no longer resides on her porch or enjoys Dingo Girl’s protection, but still, McJAGGER? Come on! That’s golden.) Also I want her on my side during the zombie apocalypse, because she’s devoted some serious time to planning for and surviving said apocalypse.

4) Your favorite nickname someone else has given you*.


Well, it’s definitely not Wine Eye. My sisters called me Sarah Jeanie Weenie when we were little and I hated that, too. My senior year of high school, though, I developed an insane crush on my AP American History teacher, Mr. Tucker. Man, my knees still get weak thinking about him. I had (and filmed, the shame!) a fake wedding in which my Little Foot stuffed dinosaur stood in for Mr. Tucker at the altar. I was convinced that when I saw him at the Homecoming football game the year after I graduated, he’d offer to take me for a ride on his motorcycle, and then propose marriage. I guess I don’t need to tell you what didn’t happen that night. Sigh.

What we were talking about? Oh yeah, nicknames. There were only 6 people in my history class, and when we were learning about the Battle of Saratoga, Mr. Tucker started calling me Saratoga Jean (my middle name is Jean, if you haven’t picked that up already) and it is now my email address, my screen name, and my first and only tattoo. Ok, one of those is a lie. But Mr. Tucker, if you are out there…I love you. Still. Call me.

5) If you had to move to a major city somewhere in the US, what would it be
and why?

I’d move to Honolulu, because I couldn’t stand to be anywhere colder than where I am right now. We lived in Hawai’i for 6 years when I was in elementary school, and if money wasn’t a consideration I’d moved back in a heart beat. The ocean is beautiful, the water is clear and warm all year long, the food is an absolutely delicious blend of Polynesian and Asian influences, the culture is fascinating, and even on your worst day, you are still in Hawai’i. The best corn on the cob and the best shave ice I’ve ever eaten were from roadside vendors on the way home from the North Shore. Man, I need to start saving my pennies.

So, who’s next?
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*I don’t believe in giving yourself a nickname. That’s why I slapped several people in the face at a bar who were calling my friend Ashley “A-bomb.” It’s not a real nickname, guys, she gave it to herself. Stop calling her that. Call her “Smashley.” It’s funnier.

I know I shouldn’t have slapped the innocents who didn’t know any better. But I couldn’t help myself. My rage blinded me.

6 saltines in 60 seconds, you say?

I’ve mentioned before that I am fascinated by competitive eating. Last night I was over at Julie’s for Friends’ Christmas, which was a ton of fun and I scored some awesome gifts. Like this scarf (thanks, Kristin!):


But this post is not about how awesome my new scarf is, or how delicious the crab legs, shrimp, and oysters were, or even how delicious my Sailor Sarahs are. This post is about slamming saltines.

C challenged K to eat 6 saltines in 60 seconds. Sounds easy, right? I mean, I regularly hoover a whole sleeve in what feels like no time at all. The rules are simple: 6 saltines, chewed and swallowed, with nothing to drink, in 1 minute.


K stepped up to the plate. Around cracker 4, though, it became evident that she wasn’t going to make it.

It was sad, my friends. I offered to coach K in the fine art of competitive eating, so that next year she can redeem her good name.

I’m not-so-secretly wondering if I am up to the challenge. I’ll get back to you on that one…

I know it’s just a t-shirt and a couple of coozies, but we are in an Economic Crisis!

You know that scene in Erin Brokovich where her biker boyfriend presents Julia Roberts with a pair of earrings after giving her a speech about how he had been planning on giving them to her the next time she said ‘thank you’ or did something nice? And how that never happened so he was just going to give them to her now, as he broke up with her?

Well, I told myself last night that I’d do a bloggy give away as soon as I won something. Lo and behold, Lump gave me an award! Sweet. Happy Friday to me!


To prevent my Fabulous Crown from being snatched from my head as I cry and run stumbling from the catwalk, scalp bleeding and mascara running, I am to list 5 of my addictions, and pass it along to 5 other fabulous bloggers.

My addictions:

1. Tetris – Steve has two bathrooms in his house; one is the regular, public bathroom and the other one I call the ‘poopy bathroom’ in my head because it is in the master bedroom and this is where I go when I need to see a man about a horse. In addition to the Maxim magazines, there is a Game Boy. I have sat there, pants around my ankles, for upwards of 45 minutes playing Tetris and trying to beat his high score. I have been as of yet unsuccessful, but maybe I’ll make some chili this weekend and get in some quality time with the Game Boy.

2. Serial novels – I cannot pass up a book series. Sometimes this is good; the Dune series, the Chronicles of Narnia, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Harry Potter, etc. Some times this is not so good. See: Clan of the Cave Bear. The first book was good alright, but the series quickly devolves into soft core housewife porn. I couldn’t stop, though. I slogged through to the end of the series, however, and towards the end it seemed like every other page was a mammoth on human rape scene. When I finally finished, I felt dirty.

3. Socks – I need to have socks on ALL THE TIME. Even if I kick them off during the night, I have a hard time falling asleep without socks on. These little piggies get cold.

4. Karaoke – Karaoke is like a drug to me. Once I sing one song, I want need to sing another, and another, and another, until I’m signing up for songs under various pseudonyms in a desperate attempt to trick the DJ into letting me sing more songs, boasting proudly that “karaoke is 2% singing ability and 98% song choice,” and loudly promising to vomit on the next person who sings “Strawberry Wine.”

5. Biting my fingernails – Hi, my name is Sarah and I am a nail biter. It’s disgusting, I know, but I CAN’T STOP.

I’m passing this along to the following bloggers:

Katie @ save the pitbull, save the world because I am in awe of all the fabulous work she’s done with her adorable pitties, Luce and Mushroom.

LBluca77 for her fabulous bacon eating abilities.

BrazenBareToe for pointing me in the direction of the torture fabulous experience that is NaNoWriMo.

Dolce @ La Dolce Vita for her fabulous ability to make my co-workers doubt my sanity as I laugh out loud not-so-quietly at my desk.

Finally, to Nilsa @ SoMi for organizing and hosting the fabulous BlogSecret.

————————————————————————-
Ok, so the first Bad Mutha Fudruckers’ Pay it Forward Give Away.

The prizes: A t-shirt and two coozies from Wilmington’s Most Awesome Dex And Ernie Friendly Bar, The Barbary Coast.

*actual t-shirt/coozy design may vary slightly, as I just made these up from memory in MS Paint today*


How to win
: Leave a comment starting today (11/21) and ending Sunday, November 30 to be entered in the contest. One entry for each comment (multiple comments=multiple entries, up to 2 per post). If you have a blog and pimp this contest on it, you can earn yourself another entry (leave me a comment letting me know you are a pimp). Feel free to use this badge:

The winner will be determined by a random number generator and announced Monday, December 1st. The winner is expected to host their own Pay It Forward Give Away, with their own prizes and rules, thus Paying It Forward.

Questions? No? Good.

If you have a question and are too embarassed to ask in front of the entire class, you can email a Mutha Fudrucker at badmuthafudrucker [at] gmail [dot] com.

Bad Mutha Fudruckers: The Rules (pt. I)

Hey look! Ernie’s sniffing some flowers:

‘Do not take a picture of me sniffing flowers; I am a Bad Mutha Fudrucker. Bad Mutha Fudruckers do not Sniff Flowers.’

‘This is what Bad Mutha Fudruckers do. They Rip Shit Up.’

‘If you try to tell a Bad Mutha Fudrucker to be gentle with his toys and not Rip Shit Up, a Bad Mutha Fudrucker will Laugh in Your Face.’


‘Bad Mutha Fudruckers dig holes in the middle of the yard, even if they are Not Supposed To, because they Don’t Care about following the rules.’

‘Bad Mutha Fudruckers will lay (lie?) in the shade and refuse to look at you, because they also Don’t Care about Looking Good for the Camera.’