Is The Peri Fairy Heading Your Way???


Just entering the latter part of my 40’s, I have begun to enter that newest phase of being a female.  My doctor calls this new phase “peri-menopausal”…  I don’t really know what “peri” means as a medical term, but in real life terms “peri” means… aggravating, bothersome, annoying, troublesome, vexing…I.E.: ”Fucking-pain-in-the-god–damn- ass”-pre-menopausal.

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…

A Little Vino Please…


Recently, while taking a much needed mental break from my office, a girlie friend and I decided to take a break, enjoy the cold winter sun and walk to the local wine bar up the street..  Seriously, we were the only two working that day, it was hot, no phones ringing.. so what the hell was the harm in it?  To the average adult female, not a god damn thing, but to the the typical tight ass bitch, who can’t think without a man or a god telling them what is right or wrong.. well that bitch would rot in the same hell she has spend her “stepford wife” life trying to avoid.. ahh… but really, when down deep, we all know she really wants to experience letting it all go, doing WTF ever she really wants to and not have to feel guilt or panic that she may go to hell, that her kids should smell a tad bit of relaxation on her breath or worse yet her ball and chain… Oh… oops, I meant her “husband”… because in religion, she really isn’t much more than a breeder, house servant and the occasional…oh why do I even need to go there… so.. .We trek our little asses up the street in the early afternoon to a wonderful little wine bar with intentions of having a nice appetizer and a glass of Fume Blanc… light, crisp and refreshing…  It is nice, the sun is out, the sliding wall doors are open for indoor and out door relaxation… we are all of 5 minutes from work…

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

They Call Me… For A Reason…


They call me Bitch for a reason… Because I am… End of Blog…

I could leave it at that, but that would be incredibly stupid, just like the statement above is…  Often times I have found in life when one takes an assertive or firm stances on a topic and ones views… They are called a bitch… The same can be said of when someone take charge of their own lives and destiny, this too often causes one to be called a bitch…   That leads to ask, just what a bitch is???  Is a bitch someone who does what needs to be done, stay true to the course and takes no shit from anyone…  I think this is not a bitch but instead someone who is taking control, has goals and a plan to achieve them… I think intead, that this is a person who deals with things straight up and head on…

If this were a man we would call him, smart, aggressive and a go getter… but with women, we call this a bitch…  Maybe, we should see what Wikipedia’s definition of a bitch is… ” In literal, non slang use, Bitch is a term for female canines…. Hmmm,  let’s start on this statement…  If we are called bitches, then does that mean we are also female dogs???  So, we are also ugly, because we all use the term Dog, we typically refer to the meaning that you are so ugly as in “what a dog, you need a sack for her head to… hmmm, well… Dog to me, also means… What I think of some types of men, such as in “What a Dumb Ass Dog”… as in he can’t keep his zipper up whenever he smells a new bitch around him…in fact in my cell phone, several of my good male friends, have the labels “dumb-ass-dogs #1, #2 #3 & on after their names… just so I know which one of my bitches is calling today… lol… So in my book, the definition above of bitch is referring to “canines” and that tells me that a bitch is a dog, which seems to refers to a “Dog” which is in… “Dumb-Ass- Dog”…  so truly, the term bitch when in reference to canine, actually means man… so we women are not the bitch…

Wikipedia also states… this suggest a high sexual desire in a woman, compatible to a “bitch” in heat…  a bitch in heat… hmmm… sounds like a woman who just needs to get her kitty scratched so she can purr like a kitten… that doesn’t sounds like a bad thing, now does it???  What would sound bad is a bitch in heat suggesting someone wanting to get knocked up so she can trap some Dumb-Ass-Dog into taking care of her and her puppies she would be popping out…  that is not so nice… I will pass on being a “bitch in heat”… I can scratch my own kitty…

The other definition Wikipedia quotes is… In recent usage, the range has expanded to refer to a feminist context, Bitch, can indicate a Strong or Assertive Woman, one who may make men feel threatened… I find it truly amazing that this definition is exactly how I started out this blog, where Bitch is a strong woman…  I must disagree, a bitch is simply someone who for no reason at all is a just an arrogant, cocky, rude person…  This can refer to both a male or a female… They can both be a bitch in my book…

The last definition states, when applied to a man, “bitch” is a derogatory term for subordinate… So, it is saying that you are my bitch and I am your boss… Hmm, this is confusing because in essence, above , it stated a strong and assertive person would be the boss and they would be the bitch… So the subordinate could not be the bitch, right???  Seems to me that the word bitch has a lot of mixed connotations as to what it really means… However, we are all going to use the term “Bitch” when we feel the need to throw someone under the bus or get our point across or feel superior… For me, I am a Bitch but which definitions above apply, well depends on what time of day you ask me…

Ciao, Sarah B…

Marvin…what are you thinking…


You know sometimes we have to wonder about Mr. Marvin…  Marvin sent over some ideas about all his wisdom’s, because he thinks he is all that and more… so SarahsViews decided to do a piece about it Marvin, calling it… Marvin’s wisdom’s with a Sarah Bite…  Please enjoy and if you have some wisdom to throw this direction, send em on over baby…  Here we go…

Marvin Says… Nothing sucks more than the moment during an argument when you realize you are wrong…   Sarah Says… WTF… You clearly haven’t picked the right topic.. Never argue about something until you know you got your own back and ass covered!  And you are NEVER wrong… haven’t you learned anything from reading Sarah…

Marvin Says…There is a GREAT need for a “sarcasm” font…  Sarah Say…  You think????  They call that Caps ON… Caps Off… Ever really use your crackberry closely or your laptop, or are you one of those who still type on all Caps???

Marvin Says… How many times is it appropriate to say “What?” before you just nod and smile because you still didn’t hear what they said???  Sarah Says…  You are just way to freaking nice… What???  WTF did you just say…. is more likely what would come flying out Sarah’s mouth …loudly!!!

Marvin Says…  Map Quest really needs to start their directions at #5…  I am pretty sure I know how to get out of my own freaking neighborhood…  Sarah Says… Map Quest is assuming that you had a wild night out, you drank some shots, you table danced and showed all the gals and fellas your hairy ass chest… before falling into your car and following someone you may or may not know home ( fuck, Marvin.. I really hope it was at least a Gal, Oh Marvin )…  Waking up in a strange bed… not knowing where you are…  seeing some hair peak out of the sheets next to you… clearly you are to afraid to lift them up to see who / what is under them… quietly picking up your own clothes, sneaking out the front door… turning on your Crack Berry and looking at the address on the house and street sign and Map Questing your drunk ass home to “SHOWER” and have some coffee…  So, Please… don’t blame map quest for your wild nights!  It can’t read your dumb ass mind…

Marvin Says…Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died…  Sarah Says…  Marvin, Marvin, Oh Marvin… Please get a life!!!  Do you really have so much extra time on your hands that you are reading the obituaries or are you on the hunt for a new gal and checking out the old dudes that clicked off so you can scope out a “sugar mama”…. HMMM…actually, that doesn’t sound like such a bad idea… Maybe, Sarah will start reading them too…

Marvin Says… I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower and THEN turn on the water…  Sarah Says…  This explains the true meaning of an “Innie”… Whew!!!  No wonder sex in the shower doesn’t really work all that well…

Marvin Says…It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood….  Sarah Says… You think???  WTF… But then, all those “anti” signs carriers hanging around out front would have to then change their signs and slogans and then… you know… it would upset the whole balance of being told you can or can not do something and well… We all know that it just won’t work… So let’s not fuck with what is already a fun topic to fuck with… cuz… then if we keep fucking …well… then you know; there will be this whole trip to Unplanned… and on and on… so, Sarah Says… let’s leave this whole topic alone…  No one will win this one…

Marvin Says…Even if I knew your social security number, I wouldn’t know what to do with it… Sarah Says… UH… Uh… you are kidding right???   Go ask a 15 year old, give them a computer and let them go at it… they will educate your old ass and you are showing your age Sweetie…

Marvin Says…I hate it when I “just” miss a call on the last ring…. but when I immediately call back, it rings.. 9 times and then goes to voicemail… What do you after I don’t answer???  Drop the phone and run away???  Sarah Says….NO, Dumb Ass!!!  They are teaching you a lesson… You won’t answer their call…So, they are on to the next one who will pick up, cuz they are hungry, horny, she wants some wine and a really good time… So, Marvin.. you just got screwed outta getting screwed by being way to  slow on the pick up… Honey, you gotta step it up to “get it up” baby…  Meow…

Ciao Bella… Sarah B…

Why We Need Duct Tape… Important!!!


As all of us poor “white, ghetto & whatever else for you happen to be of…trash”… are familiar with it what it is like to have to be creative in making things work… It isn’t like we can all whip out our credit cards and go buy whatever the fuck we want…  I mean, really…. Not like they are gonna give one to me or to anyone I associate with… Honey…. last time I checked, I am pretty sure…  my credit is so fucking special that I am what is considered to be a “credit criminal”… No.. you moron, not like someone who goes out and steals ID’s… but more like someone who says “sucker” to the dumb ass credit card agency that was stupid enough to send me an actual card… and actually think I am gonna pay them back…  WTF are they thinking…. didn’t they pull my credit report before sending it to me…. Hey… in my opinion, my credit report is “full disclosure” that I do not and have never had any intentions of ever repaying any “credit” that some dumb ass sucker chose to gave to me…   It isn’t like I can hide my credit past… I am simply “using” the gift presented to me…

Then comes reality….  Ah.. something just broke and I can’t go to the store and pick up a new one, a part of a new one or even a take something back to get a new one.. Hell no…  all I got to my name is $3….. We know I gotta save $2 bucks for $2 Buck Chuck…. those of you whom may not have a “Trader Joes”… that is where I can go buy a bottle of a step above the ghetto negro cat white wine and the cost is $2 Bucks…So, this leaves me$1 freaking dollar to my name….  How can I fix what needs fixing with a buck???  Oh hell… come on… this is a damn recession…. where do you and every one else you know, shops at today…. either proudly or with dark glasses on and driving 20 miles out of their way to avoid being seen by the other snobs in their neighborhood…  Well sweet cheeks…. we shop at the freaking $1 Store of course…. You can find everything you need (except wine!!! ) at the dollar store… damn… why don’t they sell wine???

Now… I drive my lame ass to get my wine…  then I drive my ass quite proudly to the nearest dollar store by my Apartment… maybe not so much in pride as in the sheer lack of gas in my car…  remember…I am poor white trash…  (at least for this blog bella…) I haul my ass into the store… grab my little green hand basket… as though I am actually going to fill it up with dollar items… yeah right!!!!  I walk straight to the home improvement isle of the store… look… look again, damn it had better be here…  Ahhh… there it is… “Duct Tape”… the master of all repair materials…. I love my Duct Tape… I proudly walk to the cashier.. acting as though I have to search thru my wallet amongst all my large bills to find a dollar bill… you know baby, it is all about the “show” the “smoke”….the whatever…  Anyway, I buy my big gray roll of duct tape… Oooh Baby!!   I am gonna get back in my 1990’s Chrysler… K car…what color you ask???  White of course… and I am going to drive my white trash mobile to my apartment and I am gonna do some repairs…

First…  My damn dish washer wants to fall out when I open the door… Simple fix…. open door… take 4 long strips of tape and wrap them from the top of the counter to the inside of the top part of the dishwasher… Ahhh… fixed!  I am getting the sense that I could achieve a “semi” stainless look in my kitchen if I use enough of this magic fix all….Next… my vertical blinds… well… seems a few of them won’t stay in the clips…  simple … get up on a chair…. get a few small pieces of tape…. and wrap it around the top of the blind to the clip…. 2 down… how many more to go…. Lets go to the bathroom… the toilet paper roll has a messed up spring…. so it keeps popping out… ooh… this will be easy… tape it to the bar…. Ahhh… 3 down…  Microwave door handle keeps falling down… seems to have lost a fucking screw and I wish I could say I gotta a screw… I mean that I found the screw… but.. anyway… No screw…but you know what I got???  Duct tape… just tape that handle to the microwave and to really make sure it sticks make it go up and over the door…really feeling more like a modern kitchen with each repair…  Ahhh… 4 down…  Wait…  when I was driving home… I hate hearing the passenger side window rattle…the handle keeps jarring loose…. Yes, I said handle… this is a “K” car remember… with plush faded blue interior and a “bench” seat….  Ooh baby!!!  I am now gong to tape that damn handle into place and run the tape up the window!!!!  Mother won’t move now….  So…what else can I do… I am having issues with my bra… the wire keeps poking out…and this poor white trash can’t afford a new one this week… so… I think I will tape the wire securely in…  ( that was not such a great idea… in case it crosses your mind.. it itches!!!)  However in looking in the mirror as I was getting out of the shower yesterday morning…I noticed my pointers were starting to become setters and wondered if  maybe I should give some thought to giving myself a “duct tape” boob lift!!!

Duct Tape Baby….  Girls gotta have it… it is a fix all… it even keeps the bottom of that special toy together so the batteries don’t fall out…

Ciao Bella…. “White Trash” Sarah B…

(This is all made up except the battery part!!  LOL )

The True Definitian Of A GC!!!


Atrist Gregory Hergert

While chatting with a girlie friend of mine over a bottle of cheap white wine the other day, making fun of the the mullets that women still wear and simply asking each other “Why?”….Do they not own mirrors???    No honey, the wine we were drinking wasn’t Chablis… But we have been down that road a time or two in the past and have pinky swore over the toilet the next day that we would never take that trip together ever… no matter how fucking god damn dirt poor we are… get…stay… will be… LOL!!!  While, we are able to recognize that we were not in the most of upscale places… but instead a bit closer to the hood – ghetto – crack central, whatever your neighborhood calls it, where they sell cheap ass white, red or worst yet pink wine.. Honey, we aren’t that proud…   We consider ourselves “Thrifty” spenders… maximizing our dollars!!!

We now have begun to notice of what we call several G. C.’s sitting amongst us while on our upscale night out…  G.C.’s???  You ask what is that???  Come on Muffin… you gotta know what a G.C. is… don’t you???  Really,  I mean, who doesn’t???  What could G.C. possibly stand for???  Oh please… get over yourselves… you simply aren’t that high up the ladder to think it is something nice… I mean, really get over your wide ass load self…  Everyone has a definition of what G.C. stands for… Now, in our case a G.C. stands for the following…

Ghetto Cracker…  “Our definition”  is a white, wide ass,  mullet wearing, 80’s hair with poofy bangs, blue eye shadow, pouring herself into a pair wranglers with what I like to call a super “double muffin top”… one above her belt.. and one that is stacked on top of her real set of boobs… ( god I hope those are real, cuz they are scaring the hell outta me and any kids around!!! )  You know the ones, they pop out the top of the bra she should have thrown away 3 cup sizes ago or should I say, 3 kids ago, but she holds onto as it is the only way she is able to keep those “puppies” remaining pointers and not setters… that is a Ghetto Cracker…  Now G.C. can mean a few other things… let’s say…

Good Christian… please do you really want me of all people to give you the “Sarah B” view of a Good Christian… OK, you asked for it… and here is goes…  The same lame ass Ghetto Cracker listed above who is hung over on Sunday mornings after picking up her multiple children from multiple fathers at the all night baby sitter…. oh please, let not forget to add multiple races… (gotta keep it in the hood, bario, crack central)  She chugs a few cups of yesterday’s cold coffee, lights a few smokes… (ooh!!!)   Wipes off last nights make up and put on a jean skirt and boots and drags her wide ass load and 3 chicklets to church for 3 hours Sunday morning… 1 day a week… give or take a few extra trips on holidays… that is my definition of a “Good Chetto Christian Cracker”…  Now we could expand and say G.C. stood for the following…  Got Child???  Here is the meaning…  Mullet man is hitting on mullet woman in a western bar and wants to get some action that night… but is wondering if she’s “Got Child or Got Children” at home or is he going to have to bring her to his mom’s house to do his wild monkey love dance…   (ooohhh!!! YUCK!!!)  OR… it could mean or should I say silently whisper… Got Child!!!   So, mullet woman is on the hunt for a mate for the next few months…  Welfare isn’t quite making the bills… so, she is on the prowl and needs to weed out the weak and the smart… she seeks the longest mullet with the most empty cans of beer in front of him… cozies her big ole double muffins up to him and catches his eyes… then whispers a few things in his ear…  she is fully aware he is wanting some big yummy muffins for breakfast… so she silently mouths… I Got Child!!!… He doesn’t run…cuz he can’t get his eyes out of her muffins cups… and  baby cakes, those beers make damn fucking great goggles…  so they hop into his firebird and now the rent is paid for a few months…

Now.. G.C. could also mean… “Gonad Crusher”… I love this term… because after our “Ghetto Good Christian Cracker” that’s “Got Child” ( multiple!!!)  is done, used up and movinng on from her mullet man… cuz all his money is gone and his firebird is in need of  a new ashtray; the right side sits just a ad bit bit lower… So she is about to become theMaster “Gonad Crusher” and move on to the next unsuspecting mullet man and maybe try to move up the food chain a bit, find herself someone who drinks from a bottle instead of a can and drives a thunderbird – shit at least he won’t be drinking it sugar… After all of that, her rent will be taken care of for a few more months while the 4th baby from the last mullet head is incubating… away… Ahh… gotta love those G.C. women… don’t ya… Hell No!!!

Keep them as far away fromme and honey, you should stay the hell away from all G.C.s… OR… you know what you will be doing the next 18 or so years…paying for it…and baby, there ain’t no box lunch that good…beer goggles or not…

Ciao Bella…. Sarah.. B

 Artist Gregory Hergert