Fly Fly Fly…

I am sooo not sure when this happened, I mean… WTF… I swear last month, this was not the case… I am not even sure whose body this is anymore…  In my mind I am still a size 4… in the mirror though it appears I am in a fun house and someone has added the digit number 1 in front of my 4… I repeat… WTF…  4 or 14…which is it???

I am certain last night when I went to sleep in my normal pj’s that I have worn for a few years that I was a size 4… OK..maybe I was pushing a size 6… well… maybe I am fudging abit… it may be a comfy size 8ish to 10???  Maybe, but not a 1 and 4!!!  I know these pj’s are a tad bit snug around the mid driff… well… OK… maybe I have been squirming at night because they are leaving a ring around the waist line… but that is just water weight from too much salt… too much wine… and oh yeah, don’t forget the block of cheese I consumed this past week… but it was soooo good and I needed to get it out of the house so I would not eat anymore of it…  I know it would be a true sin of the holy spirit who made me a 14 to throw it a way…. NO… that would have been sacrilegious…  SO… I ate it all… I was saving myself…

Now as I stand in front of this mirror and as I pick up my once firm breast and position them where they should go… you know… making them pointers instead of setters with the assist of my hands underneath… I noticed something more frightening than that… causing me to drop them and hold my arms straight out to my sides and roll them in circles as we did in PE class many many decades ago… as I did this.. they swung too and fro…the undersides of my once tight taught arms… they now have grown… like my ears and nose… they continue to grow…

Now… they look like I could take off any moment… in mid-flight… so this is how it goes…as we near the time of our passing and leaving this odd place we call earth… we women are granted the gift to fly to the light above while the men are left to wait for some female to come and drag their asses to the light.. ah… I see how this aging process is going…   However, thank the heavenly things above us for inventing cosmetic surgery… because I ain’t no fucking flying squirrel, bat or bird… no I am here to stay and as long as I have money…this bitch ain’t flying nowhere… but perhaps I better get rid of the cheese…wine…and so forth … now you go…  you go fly away… beat it… thsi bitch is going on a liquid diet…what type I will never tell… but I am sure I will be too drunk to fly anywhere…

Ciao… bella… Sarah the flying squirrel … on her way to meet the trainer to get her ass kicked…

Sing it baby…

I woke up this morning…got myself some gum… My mama says if you swallow your gum… it won’t come out my bum..

She said: I am one in a million..,.created out of moon shine…. I was born under a stop sign…with head lights in my mama’s eyes…

When I woke up this morning  All that gum was gone…my mean ole papa never taught me about doing right from wrong…

But I am sure looking good today…I believe I am feeling fine, (no shame about it),  You bet I was born under a stop sign…with head lights in my mama’s eyes… Woke up this morning

She said…I am one in a million..,.created out of moon shine….She said… I am one in a million..,.created out of moon shine….She said…I am one in a million..,.created out of moon shine….

Baby, but you’re, but you’re one in a million  You’ve got that shotgun shine; shame about it, I was born under a stop sign…with head lights in my mama’s eyes…

Woke up this mornin/…  Woke up this morning … I think the needle is skipping… if you know what I meant, you are old…

Ciao… gotta get some sleep after all that moonshine…

Boom…13

Purr…My engine is all rev’d up!!!

So baby… what’s your speed limit???  Are you someone who drives slow and steady at 35 miles per hours… do you like the nice even pace of being middle of road, giving you ample time to avoid any road blocks ahead… foot steady on the gas pedal ready to brake at any moment???

Is your speed limit 35 but you like to drop down to 25 miles per hour… hang out in the really slow lane, looking for some excitement…ready to put your pedal down hard so you  can take off lightening fast… if someone in the 25 mile per hour lane catches up to you and sparks your attention???  Do you slow back down to let them catch up to you???  Gently tap your brake lights to get their attention… you all wanting to drive 35 but wanting to play in the 25 mile per hour lane…

If driving under the speed limit isn’t really your thing, are you someone who likes to chances and rev up your night and push full steam ahead and press your petal down hard and hit the fast lane, are you someone who loves to tempt fate and risk the twist and turns of the fast lane, lives to enjoy speeding up to the next stop sign, look around and see who is next to you… see if you can catch them as the race away… you and all your 35 mile per hour wanting to chase that 45 mile per hour person… you are ready for the chase and you to win the race…

Remember…whatever lane you choose to drive in… there are always gonna be some speed bumps ahead when you least expect it… ready to blow a tire… pop your airbags sooner than you expected…  whatever lane you like to drive or shall I say play in… remember slow it way down back baby… buckle up or as a wise ole gal I know says… you better click it or get a ticket… drive safe… stay in your own fucking lane…

Ciao Bella …  Sarah B… playing it safe at 35…

Where the hell is my driver???

My balls of fire…

If I Only Had Balls… Wait, I Do… They were yours!!!  You left them in the middle of our conversation…right there, on the floor, as scurried out of the room in the middle of a slightly challenging conversation… yup, you turned and you bolted… like a flash of lightening… boom… you were gone and on the floor in the dust were your balls…oh… I meant to say, my balls…

Oh yeah, that’s right, you dropped, you ran and so guess what… I took…  they are now mine…  I think I shall hang them from my rear view mirror so every time I am in the car, I can be reminded that I have big balls… bigger than yours, wait, that’s right, they are yours… but guess what, they are mine…  In fact, all my female friends have a set just like these hanging from their rear view mirrors, a few of them use them for a key chain… yup… that’s right, balls on chain…

No take backs allowed, you left them up for grabs and now they are mine… once I give them a great work out and show them how they are really to be used and what they are capable of and their full potential…and not left on the side lines…then perhaps I will return them… if you think you can finally use them… and better yet, know what to do with them… till then… I will take are of business…

Ciao Bella…

Sarah…

Ball Buster

Sheep on Wolves Clothing…

Stepford Sheep or Stepford Wolves, they are all… Stepford People… Truly they are all just one in the same… Individuals who want to have the appearance of a perfect life, marriage, job and looks… They eagerly follow the leader of the Perfect Pack… as none of them want to think for themselves and be separated from the pack…  They yearn to be just like everyone else, think like everyone else and look like everyone else…  Wanting only to be perfect and more importantly they want you to be just as perfect and to join their herd…

You see them everywhere you look and they are all around you; they are milling about, fixing their hair, straightening their ties, shifting their skirts and checking any mirror they pass to make sure they are still just as perfect…  They may look perfect, however you can see right past and through them… not even catching your attention… They so much want to just be noticed by you and others, to just stand out amongst everyone else around them, however, sadly, they only simply just blend in with the back ground that surround them… There is nothing about them that is special at all… Too bad, so sad, all that money, all that following, all that perfectness, beauty and status and yet they really are just only a bunch of  nothings…

It never ceases to amaze me how important it is for this group of individuals to be noticed and to stand out above of the rest of us while forming their own secret sect;  I am all too shocked at the needs of this group to be recognized, to be something they are not and more so, can and never will be…  Who are these people and why are they are here?  What insecurity was instilled into them to create this need to be perfect…  Is it so important to be like everyone else?  To look like everyone else?  To dress like everyone else?   Must they all drive the same cars, live in houses that they only to tell them apart, in their gated communities, is simply by the numbers on the fronts of their homes…  As nothing else sets them apart, the last thing they want is to be the black sheep of the flock…  How horrible that would be…  Being the Black Sheep to this group would cause one to ostracized and shunned forever… this group can not sustain itself with those who seek individuality, as this group works diligently at squashing and shunning the dreamers and seekers of what else is out there besides a life of conformity…

If being someone who is  seeking to learn more about life, dreams and possibilities of what one can do, means you are a non conformist to the Perfects Sect and that you will be shunned, then I shall take a pass at the “Stepford Lies Club” and instead continue moving towards being my own individual and follow my own lead and no one else s… as I am not nor would I ever want be a part of the Perfect Pack…  wolves or sheep’s, all the same and I will take a pass on this group, sect and herd… I would prefer to be a Baa Baa Black Sheep Baby…

Ciao Bella… Sarah B…

Woke up this morning with clarity…

I guess using the term, gift and cycle in the same paragraph is miss leading, on this birthday, my cycle decided to give me a little more than normal, it decided to hang around awhile, hmmm, I muttered to myself… well that is odd, haven’t had this issue before, in the back of my mind, I was in denial as to what this could potentially mean, perhaps, I am just having an odd month, you know, lots of stress, maybe not enough exercise or better yet, I decided it was from not enough sex… determining this to be the case, I made mental note to attack my other half upon the moment he entered the door when he came home…  that would fix this extra birthday gift and make it go away…

After repeatedly using this approach, one evening, while dozing, I began to notice that the room had become extremely…shall we say… a freaking blazing inferno….oh my freaking god… Please get this sea of blankets off of me know… I struggle to get my leg out of the blanket all while managing to piss off our cat at the foot of the bed, begrudgingly, he spat at me, showing me his annoyance and he moved over to my husbands side of the bed, what the hell…  did we leave the heat on ultra high before going to bed earlier, I struggled to remember, no, I know we didn’t, wow…one let out is not going to do the trick, I wondered what I was thinking when I wore a tee shirt and sleeping bottoms, they were now stuck to me, a bit damp I was… second leg out… what is that trickling between my breast is that water???  Did the cat piss on me because I woke him up… now struggling to fully waken myself, I see the fur ball snuggled close to my husband, he has not pissed on me, why am I wet???  Crap… I am freaking burning up, my hair is damp… I toss all the covers fully off of me, throwing them onto my husband, I am sure I have fever and to have one this high, I must be close to death… surely there is no other reason to be this warm…  do I have food poisoning???  Why am I sweating…   crap… I began to realize I am cold… damn, give me those covers back and I want them now… I grab them off my husband and take a few of his at the same time… I prepare myself for a bad case of the flue tomorrow morning, because I know to have this type of fever, means that I will be hugging the porcelain bowl and not want to be far from it, I am sure of this…  I doze and go back to a sound sleep, when I wake, I am fine, other than when I went to bed, I had straight hair and in my rage of sweat, I must have gotten my hair wet and it is now curly and fuzzy… nice, what a beauty I am as I look in the mirror…  funny though I don’t feel sick…

It was 3 nights later, I repeated this pattern and after a few more weeks of the on and off switch with my body’s thermostat, I began to self diagnose, because somewhere in the back of my mind…  a little voice was saying… you know, that was a very significant number you just hit on your birthday… right???

About 2 months later as I was at work, I was talking to a co worker, while sitting at my desk, I began to notice that I was starting to get hot, the hair on the back of my neck felt like a heavy wool coat!!!  I looked at my co worker as I began to feel like perspiration on my upper lip… I asked him the only thing I could think of… is it HOT in here…. Or it is just me???  He looks at me and says nope, it is actually a bit cool in here today… Damn… I was so afraid that is what he would say…  shall we say going forward, for the next 2 months, I learned to dress in layers in the dead of winter and a pony tail became my hair style of choice, I began to understand why so many women as they got older chose short  hair…   I began to wonder if maybe, just maybe I could possibly, you know.. Me entering.. that M stage of my life…  This would require research…

With Google as a girl’s best friend and my husband asleep, I crept to our home office and plugged in the M word in search bar… I read all about it, when it starts, what the symptoms were.. fuck.. I had almost all of them… denial has been my friend, years of taking care of my body, eating healthy, exercising… and it has betrayed me… damn body, in my mind that meant I could betray it back… I lay in bed, partially covered prepared for the heat wave, one leg out, our cat had learned it was safer to sleep next to my husband than potentially risk being kicked awake every few nights… I decided I would sleep on it…

In the morning, I went to the health food store and bought all the natural remedies I could find… after 3 weeks, I realized I had just simply donated hard earned money and still continued to dress in layers and had now resorted to 2 fans on the side of my bed… it became all too clear… it was time to see a DR… it had been a few years, kids were grown.. life was full, so hadn’t taken the time to visit the lay down and spread em doctor…

When I called to make an appointment, I found she had moved to a new state… they said they would set me up with a new DR, a male doctor… I said no thank you, I didn’t want to explain this man… how would he understand…  So, I did the next best thing.. I went to my girlfriend, who was a few years older than myself…  I met her for wine and we talked and I explained the past several months’ events and she was all to sympathetic, letting me know that her time has started a few years ago.. she had opted for the natural way though and could not refer me to a doctor… was she fucking nuts… who would opt for natural when after I realized my natural approach didn’t work, I had crept back to the office one night and with google as my friend and no longer in denial, I searched.. .menopause and how the fuck to make the symptoms go away…

She offered to ask several of her girlfriends for a referral for me… I thanked her and we finished our girls catch up time and wine and we headed our separate ways for the evening… As I got to the work the next morning, I turned on my computer and went to check my email and true to form, my friend had sent out an email that read…  My first and last name has started having hot flashes and is looking for a gynecologist can anyone refer her to one… now everyone knew… I didn’t know to say… so I closed my email… put my hair in a ponytail, removed my first layer… and went to work.. at lunch I opened back up my email and there we numerous emails from friends of our age group that had replied with referrals and shared stories of misery that made me laugh… seems I was not alone in this and that I had entered a new cycle of my life with this birthday that brought me to a new sisterhood, an odd way to bond, but a nice way to start a new chapter… next week, I shall meet my new DR that is referred by many of the women on the email chain and if this DR knows what is good for her and she wants to leave the office in one piece, I will leave her office with a prescription to make me go back to normal…  Happy Birthday to me…

Ciao Bella… a Pissed Off Sarah…

Upon starting your day and by your third customer, you begin to realize that you can give all the customer service you want… but it is apparent that the customers want more, they want you to give them customer service and pay them for you give it to them… in addition, perhaps you can shine their shoes, carry their purse while they shop, hell, they will just give you the list of what they want, ask you to pour them a drink of top shelf adult beverage, request you pay the tab for the drink and do their shopping while they put their feet up and rest a bit…

When all is done, they will write a scathing complaint letter to your boss about how you didn’t look them in the eye, didn’t smile quite enough times and offended them because the drink you bought for them, wasn’t as strong as they felt it should have been… or my favorite, too strong and they got a ticket driving home and expect you to pay…

Today, we are taught to give good customer service, but we as customers have forgot how to be good customers, with stores fighting for our market share we have become arrogant and rude, intolerant to the person who is attempting to help you while at the checkout counter, or answer your questions at customer service… we as customers, have become spoiled children like Violet Beauregarde in Willy Wonka in the chocolate factory who wants it all now and doesn’t care who she yells at to get it… this is us… this is today’s customer…

When you shop today… who will you be… today’s customer or …

Ciao… Sarah B

I married Miss Right. I just didn’t know her first name was Always…  Sarah says… Oh Baby cakes… Really, you didn’t know her first name was Ms.. not Miss Always… cuz now your ass is married and that makes your first name… Yes Dear…

Maybe this world is another planet’s hell…  Sarah say… Uh, really?  Do you think… what was your first clue???  Your day at the office???

Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company…  Sarah says… well where do you wanna be… in the sunshine with you know… those types… or in the heat with your friends, sipping cocktails by the pool…watching the pool boy… who you know… screwed up too and ended up here servicing you… tough choice… but I a prone to the heat…

Why should we take advice on sex from the Pope?  If he knows anything about it, he shouldn’t!  Sarah says…  well she doesn’t want to step on toes… but come on… does it get any clearer that statement… and who is the Pope and exactly what does he does for a living… not quite sure on that and why has he never had sex???

When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realized that the Lord doesn’t work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me…  Sarah says… LOL.. the true definition of religion… better to ask for forgiveness than permission…

A man is incomplete until he is married. After that, he is finished.  Sarah says… And your point??

He is a self-made man and worships his creator…  Sarah says.. Hey dude.. why does it need to be all about man and his creator… you self righteous bastard… don’t you know we made you… or I guess the correct term is own you…

When life gets you down – just put on your big girl panties and deal with it.  Sarah says… put em on sister, you lame whiny ass bitches are giving the rest of us a bad name, so shut, buck up and do the job like the rest of us…

A compromise is an agreement whereby both parties get what neither of them wanted.   Did Sarah here the words I do in this statement???

I usually lump organized religion, organized labor, and organized crime together. The Mafia gets points for having the best restaurants… Sarah says, Italian food is the best she has ever had… yum yum…

The National Rifle Association says, ‘Guns don’t kill people. People do’. But I think the gun helps.  Sarah says… no comment because common sense and not politics tells you this is a true statement and leave it at that…  because one thing Sarah has learned… is common sense really doesn’t matter…

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.   Sarah says… WTF… have you been listening to my phone calls lately???

A good listener is usually thinking about something else.  Sarah says… What???

Today is the last day of some of your life.   Sarah says… Wow… Really, that is the best you can come up with… dumb ass…

Ciao Bella… bite me… Sarah…

So let’s talk real… I’ve been having a period since I was 11.  Yes…early bloomer in so many wrong ways….  WTF ever…  So, for over 30 years, it’s been an inconvenient, yet predictable part of my life.  3-1/2 weeks go by, I get cramps for a day, bleed for 4 or 5 , and it’s a done deal for another 3-1/2 weeks.  But a couple years ago, things started changing a bit.  First, I started to decrease to just 3 or 4.  It continued to dwindle over the next few months until I was down to just over 2 days.  Woo-Hoo!!!  Who wouldn’t like that???  Eventually I was left with a day of cramps but no period to follow.  Not my favorite, but the no muss-no fuss aspect has its appeal.  Finally one day I was at the grocery store, passing by the tampon display, and realized I hadn’t restocked my supply in what seemed like a very long time…  Standing at the display, I counted backwards to the last time I’d needed them… Holy shit…it was nearly 6 months!!!

Free at last – Free at last!  Fuck you Playtex & your God-damn labia pinching super-glide applicator!!!  They never once were a super glide… Fuck you Kotex & your God-damn pube pulling self-sticking panty shields!!!  And Fuck you OB & your God-damn strings that wick bodily fluids into the wearer’s underwear without absorbing a fucking drop!  I was a happy woman… I giggled and danced a little jig right there in the aisle…  causing the young man standing close by to move quickly away from me…  OMG…within a week, I had a freaking period…  NOT one of those 1 or 2 day MF’s either.  Apparently my uterus had not stopped doing its thing, just simply saving for a rainy day….  I had 3 days of cramps and 6 months worth of period over about a 9 day time span…   Mother Nature can be such a raving bitch…  Moving forward, I vowed a couple of things… I will only pass the feminine hygiene display if I need feminine hygiene products,  I will approach those product displays with only the deepest reverence and utmost respect…  Also, I will never again curse feminine hygiene product makers in public or private as I had learned my lesson…

Now for the past 6 months I’ve honored my vows, avoided the tampon aisle, been respectful etc. and my menstrual life has once again returned to uneventful.  The dwindling process resume and I went back to having periods that are sporadic, short-lived and sparse…   Life is good…but then I forgot… Shit!!!  While grocery shopping…  I must first point out and ask what genius’s idea it was to arrange the feminine hygiene products on the same aisle as coffee or deeply desired espresso… which for me, is a requirement of life as important to air and wine…  I decided it was silly of me to go all the way around the hygiene product aisle to get to the other end to get coffee, so I cut through… Dumb Ass…  Seeing the tampon & maxipad boxes all lined up, I again realized it had been some length of time since I’d needed to re-supply…  Outwardly I remained respectful & polite, inwardly, I must admit I had just the teensiest of  Ha Ha… moment…  That was all it took… you idiot!!!

The next day, Monday, I was sitting at my desk talking on the phone when, with absolutely no warning, I felt something go bluuurrp…you know…down there.  I knew immediately this was not good…  I finished the phone call and headed to the rest-room squeezing my you know what shut…  Oh My God!!!  It was bad…it was really really bad…  It looked like someone had bled a sacrificial goat into my underwear…  Was I wearing light-colored pants???  Did I even have to ask???  They were khakis of course…   Had it bled through my underwear into my pants???  Hello…of course!!!  Badly I wondered… Not too bad from the volume/area/stain size standpoint, however from a placement/location standpoint, it was fucking stellar…  Somehow, because of the way I was sitting, because of the way my pants fit, or because I fucking pissed off the Period Goddess again, I had managed to channel the flow forward so it made a big red blotch right at the base of my pant fly… It was only 10:00 am…

I cleaned up as best I could, & went looking in the bathroom cupboard for the supplies to catch any further leakage.  In the past, I always kept a small stash of tampons at work.  However it hasn’t been all that necessary for quite some time now, and I didn’t have anything…  Fortunately, one of my lovely 20-something year-old co-workers had a box of panty shields in the cupboard.  It was an emergency and I figured I could replace them later, so I opened her box, and learned a new thing…  Did you know they make panty shields for THONGS???  They’re normal width in the front, and taper to string width in the back…with wings…  Who knew and most importantly….WHY???  How fucking useless is that???  Being desperate, I made do…  I laid the first one in, front to back & then the second one, back to front so that together, they almost made one whole.  I made it through the rest of the morning by staying at my desk, or carrying papers, and file-folders in front of me.

At lunch, I zipped home where I scrubbed the spot from the crotch of my pants, and threw them in the dryer to dry.  Unfortunately…“the thong panty liners” didn’t stick very well to my “non-thong panties”…   Instead, they are curled, twisted and have attached themselves directly to my hairy lips… both right and left!!! Removing the liners gave me a free partial Brazilian job, as they ripped out thong shaped swaths of pubic hairs…  I took a quick shower and checked on my pants…  The stain had been transformed.  It was now a large ring around the whole crotch of my pants where they had been wetted when I scrubbed them.  I decided perhaps it was time for plan B…change pants, and just freaking deal if anybody asks why if they are stupid enough to not see the glaring eyes and flaring nostrils…

Night sweats, Insomnia, Hot Flashes, Moodiness, Irritability, Memory Lapses,  Brain-farts….all predicted, and all now accounted for. However, my friends, you left some stuff out.  Nobody bothered to tell me that walking down the tampon aisle at the grocery store will make your periods start. Nor did anyone say that after 30 plus years of practice in how to deal with having a period, that I’d suddenly become incompetent…  It makes me wonder what else was left out of the stories that I am yet to experience… it this some secret society you can only enter into thru trial by fire…well fuck you…  As for me, I am back to making sure I stay away from the feminine hygiene aisle, being respectful toward the patroness saints of the menses…  I’m hoping that will keep me relatively free of unpleasant surprises for the next bit-o-while.  I am passing this along for you 20 & 30 something’s so you have something to look forward too…

Ciao Bella… A Peri Sarah B…

Cell phones are at our desk… Work is left behind.. ahh.. Some “OK” fume blanc is on the chalk board written menu… Ahhh… as we enter we hear the chatter.. the pitter patter of little feet or should we say little mouths!!!  Lots and lots of little mouths… It is a flipping wine bar for Christ sake at 12:30 in the freaking afternoon… isn’t there a sign somewhere that says “no short noisy “ talky talky ” people allowed in…  No???? Why the hell not???  Oh… well, after standing line for a good 7 to 9 minutes while this “mother” allowed her 6 & 8 year old daughters first order whatever they wanted to eat.. then the mother talked to them as though they were adults… My friend could sense my annoyance and my mouth begun to utter the uselessness not of the children, after all they are only children, but of the mother.. whom clearly doesn’t work and whose only level of communication is with that of 6 & 8 year olds….  I make it a point to tell my companion that where ever they sat, I wanted to be on the opposite end of the place… she agreed and was beginning to fidget herself with annoyance… while this is all going on, we have both spotted the wine list,  written in chalk and calling our names… The more the mother talked like a 6 year old… the louder the wine called us… Hogue ( not that bad  ) Fume Blanc… I could feel the first sip go down while standing in line… Eagerly I thought of sitting in quiet, with my friend as far from the noise so we could take 30 minutes, relax, not discuss the bullshit of work  or the day but instead focus on making fun of all the idiots at the wine bar in the middle of teh day… Ahh.. the sound of the children walking farther and father away with their “mama”…

Finally we are at the bar, waiting for our turn to order…  My credit card out… when a very nice, large, important server took our order.. how did I know she was important..well of course it was because she had a “blue tooth” on her ear.. she was just fucking special.. so special that while working.. she would take personal phone calls… Imagine if you will, that… a rather large woman of over 250 pounds and at least 5″10″ tall…with one arm full of tatoos and the makeup of the 1980′s and hair of the 1990′s… stands next to your table and you order a glass of wine and she starts to write it down and then in mid stride…says, what the hell do you mean, you can’t pick me up after my shift?  WTF???  You are sitting there thinking to yourself.. I know I am on my second.. maybe 3rd glass of wine.. but at no point do I remember offering to take her home… you say pardon me… she looks at you annoyed because after all you are interrupting her call… and holds up her hand to you as if to say… excuse me, this is important.. she points to her ear.. as though you do not see the black growth on the side of her face the randomly beeps a light at you… she is put out that you had the nerve to interrupt her.. you wait patiently…wait…wait…and oh wait..then she lets her caller know what a piece of shit he is.. and that she will take the bus… Oh…let’s toss in a bit of guilt… and screw you… and ends the call.. what I can not figure out is how she ends the call.. I don’t see her hang up anything…. oh well..  maybe now she will get back to taking your order or maybe not.. because now she will have to step all over her dick if she had one… maybe she does…I am not quite sure at this point and will apologize to you about that incident you just witnessed… LIKE YOU REALLY GIVE A FLYING FUCK!!!  ALL YOU WANT IS A FUCKING GOD DAMN GLASS OF WINE AND NOW DUE TO THIS BITCH.. YOU WANT TWO GLASSES!!!… however, you are not a bitch..yet.. you instead.. politely tell her no worries… and that of course leads her to believe she can talk more to you on a personal level… however.. she finally shuts the fuck up…  you order your wine… finally… she brings you the wrong one… all while talking back to her loser boyfriend about a ride once again.. like anyone one wants to really “ride” her wide load!!!

Did I digress??? Shit,   Sorry… so this person is now taking my order at counter…  I anxiously whip out my credit card…. stand there patiently… she once again has the blue tooth thing in her ear….  I say… we would love two glasses of Fume Blanc please, the Hogue.. stunned, confused.. she searches the register….  up.. down.. around..Hmm.. what wine did you want again.. feigning politeness.. I repeat.. the Hogue – Fume Blanc, white wine?  The one over there written on the chalk board… she looks at the board… clearly needing glasses.. strains…. to see what is written.. what was it again?  It is now becoming increasingly more difficult for me to tune out the screaming children.. the mother talking like a 6 year old and the 1980′s, goth, tattooed.. blue tooth wearing…dumb as a freaking sack of rocks server whom can’t tell the difference between white or red wine let alone where the hell to find it on the freaking register… my smile falters.. my friend elbows.. me, slowly I began to retract my extended credit card… she, the waitress, server, whatever the hell her job was… stammers some more.. what was the wine?  FUME BLANC by HOGUE… see????  You have it WRITTEN under WHITE freaking god damn wines on YOUR board right over there… Oh that board… we don’t carry those by the glass.. we only have house white or red….  I am once again nudged by my side kick…  I say… that’s if OK… we will leave… the server.. says.. are you sure… I am sure I can find the owner and we can figure out a price per glass??? OH Hell NO… it cost like $8 a bottle in the freaking store… I will pass… now my blood pressure is up… my days shit to deal with at the office is all gone, forgotten and my focus is now on why we even bothered to go to this place for a glass of wine… when every damn experience has been this way… we turn to leave.. saying under our breaths but loud enough to get the point across… we will never come here again..  we vent on our way back to the office.. a short walk.. we instead walk to 7-11 and buy candy bars and continue to complain…  Once back to work, it dawns on us that without the glass of wine… the same goal had been accomplished… We forgot about our shitty ass day and now know that someone out there with a blue tooth glued to her fucking face was having a far worse day than us… Thank You Baby Jesus for that!!!  It should not have made us smile… but you know what… It sure as hell did Baby…

So screw that!!! I am going to pour myself a nice glass of believe it or not… It is not going to be  Hogue, Fume Blanc and finish this crappy little blog up because now it is purely the principle of the matter… May your tomorrow lunch be far better than my yesterday…

Ciao Bella… Sarah B….

Art work of Gregory Hergert