The latest really stupid thing I did.

Last night, I went out with some friends to Shakespeare's Pub, a local bar. I had a typical chocolate martini and, also typical, raspberri stoli's with sprite. However, my new friend Dan then bought us all a shot of Goldschlagger and something cinnamoney and to this I attribute the following stupidity...

Let me first state that my friend Amanda has talked me into running the Chicago Marathon with her in the fall. I'm excited about doing it and meant to register yesterday, but ran out of time. Our friend Brian has also decided to do it, and happened to be out with us last night. At about 3am, we headed over to the aforementioned Dan's apartment, which was very cool by the way. At any rate, at this ridiculous hour, I decided that the best idea was to register both Brian and I for the Chicago Marathon right then and there. I convinced Brian that this was a good idea too, even though he disagreed. I am a very good convincer. So I did just that. I registered both of us for the Chicago Marathon- a 26.2 mile run- at 3:00 in the morning.

Around 4am, I headed home and proceeded to check my email because I am addicted to my email, blog, myspace, and facebook. I'm working on it. At any rate, I checked my email. In my account, I had two registration emails. Two you say? Yes...curiously two. As I read though them, it hits me that I have somehow registered myself and then... myself again... but with half of the information Brian's... Now, let me here state that the information that was written in Brian's that was incorrect I DISTINCTLY remember writing CORRECTLY when I filled out the form. I don't care what kind of shot that was, I'm certain that I would never have thought that Brian had the same name, email address, birthdate, and, most importantly, gender, as myself. However, sure enough, there the information was before me, complete with his address, shirt size, etc. I had registered myself twice for the Chicago Marathon.

At this point, I could no longer force myself to sit up anymore, and fell directly to sleep, where I proceeded to have nightmares all night about how the registration people weren't going to let me change the information and I was going to have to foot the bill for Brian to register again, with the correct information. I even got up three times to try to fix it on the computer, but to no avail.

The next morning, I called Amanda to ask her what to do. She laughed at me. I called my friend Monica who was also there last night to ask her what to do. She laughed at me. When I was in the shower, Brian called and said that Monica told him what happened. He laughed at me. I have rude friends.

As it happened, I was finally able to email and then receive a phone number to call the registration company and they fixed the error in approximately 1 minute. Unfortunately, it is becoming apparent to me that this story is going to fall into the category of "Hey Sara- Where's your cell phone?", another stupid thing I did once and neccessitates a much longer blog than I'm willing to deal with right now. It mostly involves a toilet after a night similar to last. Anyway, Brian said that he thinks we should get shirts made up to wear on the day of the race that say, "I registered for this at 3am when I was drunk" which is amusing now, since the problem is fixed.

Please learn from my mistake. I would like to think of this as an error that has potential to help others. So, to all of you reading, the moral of the story is this: Never, never register for a marathon after consuming alcohol.

A thought.

This is a picture of me with a knife up my nose my sophomore year of college. If my grandma saw this she'd probably comment something about how if I'm worried about always being single, I should stop doing things like this. She probably has a point, too. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure I still act like this. And by pretty sure, I mean I'm sure.

Things I used to do with my neighbor.

1. Take her vitamin pills, pull them apart, and look at all of the little inside pieces on a plate. Then throw them away without eating them.

2. Play Oregon Trail- Sit on her bed, take turns getting malaria or typhoid, and pretend to wade through water as our oxen slowly died off.

3. Tie her Barbie dolls to her ceiling fan with hair scrunchies and then turn the fan on full blast. The Barbies would shoot off like missiles around her room. This game ended when we broke one of her crystal unicorns and her mom found out. Crystal unicorns are so overrated anyway.

4. Read her older sister's diary. This game also ended when her mom found out. This was not a game I came up with, and was basically mortified when her mom reamed us a new one. And anyway, there was some stuff in there about her sister that I'd really have lived fine without knowing...

5. There used to be a high school guy who looked like he wasn't in the most popular of groups who walked around the neighborhood by himself. I don't know why. Anyway, my neighbor came up with this game where we'd duck under her window and then, when he'd walk by, we'd sit up just enough to yell "Hairy butt! Hairy butt!" out the window at him. He'd look around and not know who was saying it. That was pretty mean. And by pretty mean, I mean really mean. Plus, he was probably at least 8 years older than us considering I was about 10 years old at the time. Also, "hairy butt" is incredibly disgusting.

The neighbor girl and I lost touch. I do miss the Barbie game though.

My twin, Michelle Rodriguez.

Here are the pictures as promised from earlier today. Also, for your viewing enjoyment, I was on Lola's blog today and got this link called MyHeritage.com where you can upload a picture of you and it will tell you what celebrity you look like. So when she did hers, it told her that she looked like David Schwimmer. While I, fortunately, did not come up as a man, I did come up as Michelle Rodriguez. I've posted pictures of us side by side below. As you can see, we are practically twins separated at birth. Obviously, this thing has a high reliability rate.

Me and my twin, Michelle. I'd probably call her Shellers for short. Seeing as we're so close and all.

My high school friend Sara Kelts and I at her wedding.

Nathan, Sara, and I. The one time heads of Davison High School Student Council. Nathan agreed that he should let off on the tanning after seeing this picture. My face looks fat. It's not really the most flattering picture ever...

My date for the night- Maaaaaatt. As you can see, it became ponytail time somewhere after the cutting of the cake.

My weekend.

I would like to tell you about my weekend.

-FRIDAY.
1. In the morning, I filled out report cards in the morning for conferences this coming week. I had to think of nice ways to say, "Your child is rude, disprespectful, and doesn't do any work. S/he is basically making my life Hell." I think I did ok.

2. In the afternoon, I went to a professional development on how to teach math. First of all, it was mostly filled with full-out math teachers. Math teachers make jokes about things like:
Q- "What's another way that we could get two from this problem?"
A- "Well, it's the inverse of 1/2" (chuckles follow- and I pretty much hate the word chuckle, but it is very appropriate in this context) At any rate- this is not funny and I made fun of the people who laughed at it in my head. I apparently turn into rude-Sara in situations involving math conferences. Here are some other things that went through my head while I was sitting there:
"That presenter has surprisingly nice shoes!" (They were brown suede.)
"What should I wear to Sara Kelts' wedding tomorrow? Blue spring-type dress? Tan suede skirt-suit? I wish it was warm enough to wear my new espadrilles. *sigh*"
I learned a lot about math.
3. Went to grad class from 5-9pm. There's nothing to say about that. It sucked. Except that I got 110% on my test from the class before. That didn't suck.

-SATURDAY
1. Went to grad class again, this time from 9am-3:30pm (we got out an hour and a half early). This grad class is on statistical research. It makes me slip into comatose mode. And people wanted to go on an hour lunch break. Seriously- if you're in an 8 hour long class on statistical research, why don't we take a 20 or 30 minute lunch break and get out EARLIER. This is why I turn into prude-Sara when I'm in classes. I prefer not to talk to anyone. I have enough friends. I don't have enough time. Let's get this class over as soon as possible. Plus, it was the second home baseball game for my WMU baseball boys which means I missed not only the first two games due to class, but the tailgate on Saturday. I compensated for my loss by going over on my HOUR long lunch break and having some chili and a beer.
2. I drove home to Davison (or D-Town as some of us locals fondly refer to it) for my high school friend Sara Kelts' wedding. (I will post some pictures up later.) I actually missed the wedding due to grad class, but did get to go to the reception and catch up with some friends. I also saw my high school boyfriend and first love's parents there. His parents pretty much hated me in high school. I don't know why. It was very drama filled. At any rate, I waved and smiled at his dad who was talking to someone not 8 feet away and was looking right at me. He didn't so much as acknowledge me. I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt that it was because he didn't recognize me with long hair. Because my face has REALLY changed in the last few years... Anyway...

And with that, it's shower time and then the drive back to my Kalamazoo. To do work all day. Awesome.

Stop pinching me.

Happy post-St. Patrick's Day! Last night I went to Burdick's with Dougie, Emily, Ryno, and Segal. Throw some green apple martinis into the mix, and you've got yourself a good night.

While I did have green on, I feel it is neccessary to state how much I hate when people find it amusing to pinch people who do not. It makes me want to laugh like I, too, think it is funny and then wind up and punch them in their face. That is just not funny. These are the same type of people who think it's funny when guys in movies get hit in the crotch or when someone runs face first into a pole. These things aren't funny. Stop laughing. I feel better now that that's off my chest.

Me, Dougie, and Emily. Move home Dougie!!!

Segal, the Itallian Stallion.

Me, Ryno, and Emily.

Emily and I and this obnoxious guy that I think Dougie worked with. Get out of the picture obnoxious guy.

Green, Green, Green!

Why I love my boys so much.

I have the best guy friends on the globe. Seriously. Challenge me. I will wipe your face in the dust. Mostly, I find that this is true when they feel that I am being wronged by another guy. I all of a sudden have these incredibly protective brothers ready to take some poor guy out on my behalf. Today my friend Charlie texted a boy who shall remain anonymous with the following:
"Hi. I am 6'4" blonde 200lbs 28 yrs and have aggression issues. love, charlie"

My friend Ryan is continually trying to set up scenarios to meet up with the same boy so as to tell him all the reasons why he is missing out by not dating me. :)

And when you have friends like that, who really needs a boyfriend anyway?

Here are some pictures from this weekend- A fabulous Jeremy Camp concert and then out to Cheeseburgers in Paradise with some of my baseball boys.

Caesar Andy and I.

Breann, Krystal, and I on the way back from the Jeremy Camp concert.

In a parking lot.

Today I was running late for a training I had for coaches of Girls on the Run and was driving all around this parking lot looking for the building. The stinking sun got in my eyes and all of a sudden, there was a thick, wire cord stretching horizonally across my hood and then sliding up my windshield. Some type of parking prohibitor stretched across the lot. I drove on under it, pretended I didn't hear it scraping against the top of my car and down the trunk, and drove off. No one saw. It was like it didn't happen.

Recollections of an NYC weekend.

Welcome back. To myself. :) It's great to be home, but it was fab-u-lous to be in NYC. Here are some reasons why...

...beginning with the first night, which is the most amusing. Ordinarily I'd leave this till the end, but it explains a bit of the below and needs to go first...

I got in at around 10pm on my birthday, Thursday. Laura, (my old roommate who I still call my roommate because I don't like to admit that she isn't), and I decided to go out for a drink or two at Gin Mill, my previously explained favorite bar. Laura had got me mardi gras beads, a 'birthday girl' pin, and a birthday cake tiara to wear out. When we got there, the bartenders decided to celebrate with us and continuously refill drinks. During this time, we met some crazy, weird guys who kept insisting that I take pictures of them and one of them gave me his email address on a napkin. (This ended up being 'stored' in Laura's trash can as soon as we got home.) I am blaming this on Laura because she is friendly-frienderton girl when she is at the bar- I am that aloof girl who ignores people. :) I don't want to talk to you. Don't talk to me. I don't care. I'm friendly enough outside of bars to make up for it. ANYWAY, when we finally decided to leave, we walked next door to Ray's Pizza to get chicken rolls. The pizza guys saw that it was my birthday and gave us two free pieces of chocolate cake which was very nice. When we got home, we immediately at the pizza roll-ups and then started in on the cake.
Laura: "Um... this tastes freezerburned."
Me: "Ew- You're right. This is too freezerburned to even eat."
And we put them on the nightstands next to us and were down for the count.

The next morning, two things happened.
1) I realized that, because of the celebrations the previous night, I had left my driver's license and debit card in the taxi cab. Thus, I had to have my neighbor, Kevin, overnight me my passport for the low, low price of $40 so that I could get on the plane home. Also, as I had no way to get any money, I had to borrow lots of money from friends all weekend. So when I talk about buying things, I really mean that Beth, Laura, or Josh bought them. That pretty much sucked.
2) Upon cleaning up the cake from the night before, it was discovered that the frostbite was most likely linked to the mold which was growing all over the side of the cake. It was pretty much the grossest thing ever. And I was really glad I only ate one bite. Because mold is even grosser than the taste of frostbite. Eating mold is nast.

And as for the other reasons why NYC is amazing. Besides losing your identity in cabs and eating free, moldy cake, obviously.

-I got to catch up with my deli guy in the South Bronx who makes the absolute, most wonderful sandwiches on the globe. I told him to set up a mail order service. I'm pretty sure I almost convinced him.

-I got to ride on the subway. Other than the occasional nauseating smell of urine, it is very relaxing to ride on the subway. You just sit, listen to your mp3's, and pretend you aren't people watching. Even though everyone does it. Because people are psychotic in NYC- particularly on the subway.

-I restocked on my navy blue eyeliner from H&M. I am breathing much easier now. I was seriously running low.

-I ate a hot dog from a street vendor. At home I always buy those hot dogs that are made out of I'm not sure what, but I don't care because they're fat free. From the NYC street vendors, I could probably eat about 50 and not blink an eye. They are disgustingly good. I always try to eat them slow so the people around me won't think I'm Freakishly-Fast-Hot Dog-Eating-Girl. Some days I succeed better than others.

-I bought coconut smelling shower gel from Sephora. Because I needed it almost as badly as the eyeliner. Not quite, but pretty close.

-I bought a big, pink, chunky ring from the Studio Musem in Harlem and a big, pink, chunky bracelet from H&M because I am addicted to big, pink, chunky jewelry. It makes me incredibly happy.

-I bought a light brown, leather purse. Because it was top on my list of missions to accomplish while there. Well, honestly, it was probably tied with the eyeliner. It's just that good, inexpensive eyeliner that draws well is REALLY hard to find. You understand.

-I restocked on my Nubian soap from 125th in Harlem. This soap is so good for you and smells fantastic. I bought 6 bars and owed the guy $12. I gave him a $20 and he gave me $10 back. I said, "Wait- You said it was $12," thinking that he shorted me. Because I'm an idiot and terrible at math. And the guy says, "You just shorted yourself." (But he says it really nice, like he doesn't want me to know that he's thinking about how my brain is obviously functioning improperly.) So I say, "Riiiight. So do I get something else since I was honest?" And he gives me some sort of incense thing for free and tells me that God's going to bless me for my honesty. We're pretty much best friends now.

-I got a mani/pedi/massage at Dolce, our mani/pedi/massage place. There was a woman in there who had on a coat that made her look exactly like Cruella Deville, which is of no relevance to anything, but weird anyway. Also, there were ads for something called Ear Candling and a picture of smoke going into an ear. Laura and I were too weirded out to ask what the CRAP that is...

-I got to catch up with so many friends! It was fabulous. I miss them a lot. They're pretty much the coolest ever. And I love them.

-I got to go to school to see all my coworkers and kids from last year. It was good to see everyone. I cried in the smoke smelling taxi cab on the way to the airport to go home.

And now for some pictures.

Josh and I.

Laura, Nicole (one of the Gin Mill bartenders), and I on my birthday.

Laura, Beth, and I.

Laura and I and the pizza guys. Holding the cake... The cake with mold on it.

Michael and I.

Laura and I at Gin Mill, night two.

Jared and I.

Dougie and I.