That just my baby daddy!

This is what I picture my baby with Marty Casey to look like.

Plastic, big eyes, red curly hair and in a display box. I mean come on, with parents like us, could it be anything but?

Now it is time to retire for the evening, fear not, for tomorrow shall bring more ridiculousness but for this evening, I must bid you pleasant dreams.

Now, for the Marty Casey love...I like this video, just about as much as I love his flair for accessorizing! You really are a marvel Marty! (And I mean that with minimum sarcasm.) Plus, Bobby drums on his knees a lot.

Here is some truth for you

Most of the time when I am staring off intensely into what appears to be a void and my eyes look really deep in thought and there appears to be something wrong, usually it can simply be attributed to one of two things...

1)I am regretting eating all that dairy
or
2)I am trying to get the annoying song out of my head.

Shit, I wish I was more deep.

And now for the Marty Casey love for the post...I have a feeling he is the same way.

Sometimes I miss her.

This is not the happiest of blogs, and I feel like maybe it is too personal to post here, but sometimes I really miss my Grandmother. She passed 10 years ago and when I have a dream about her, like I did last night, I forget that she is gone and I lose her all over again, either in the dream or when I wake up and I remember.

Now it shouldn't take too much deductive reasoning to figure out that today is not the day to listen to the song that I am posting lyrics to below. I think it odd sometimes when a song matches an event in my life, and this one is very appropriate. Thank you Marty for writing this.

Heavy Crown-

What keeps you hangin' on
When the end is near?
I saw that look in your eyes
You have no fear.
Where do you find the strength
How do you carry on?
Even heroes fall
On a road this long
There will come a day when you will settle down
Rest you head lay down your heavy crown
So, it's easier this way
Walk into the light
It will be ok.
There will come a day
We will reunite
I will make you proud
By the way I live my life
So now it's time for you to pass it down
Rest you head I'll wear your heavy crown.
So, it's easier this way
Walk into the light
it will be oK
And you know
What you mean to me
Our love will never die
You're a part of me
All of this time I saw the truth in your eyes
And now it's that time. Time to let go
Fall upon my knees begin to pray
You slip away
Away

I should say something funny. Um, balls...farts...poop.

Here it is, the Marty Casey love...Now this, is funny!!!! Shameless...which is why I like you so much Marty.

I have changed my mind

I had this whole speech worked out so that I could rally some people for pictures of Marty Casey, but I am really not in the mood. I doubt any of the fans want to give them to me and so I am just gonna save my breath. What I am going to do is offer up an open request to the man himself, I am no photographer and I don't have any vested interest other than taking pictures for this blog, but if you feel up to it Marty Casey, I am requesting you either email me some photos or let me take some of you sometime. (god that sounds creepy. I don't mean it to, I do need pictures for my site however, and I would prefer them to be my own. Think it over, you know how to get a hold of me.)

Moving on...It is fucking cold in the windy city today. my thighs froze walking home and they are just now thawing out 4 hours later. Beautiful. I am gonna stop writing now because I don't have anything I want to talk about, but I will leave you with this thought, more of a word of advice. The internet is supposed to be fun, don't mix it with your politics because really, nobody cares. (this is more directed to Facebook, but I am far too passive aggressive to say anthing there. Maybe people will read this, who knows.)

Ok, I have had enough, going to go and maybe watch some xxx porn.

(NEWS FLASH John Wood just told me my Facebook profile picture (the one above)looks like a messy cumshot, I can't compete with that amount of awesome so I am ending this blog for the night)

And now, for the Marty Casey love, (this picture was taken by cheryl spelts and is on her page. cherylspelts.com) I like because it too reminds me of porn. kinda. And his eyelashes are really really long.

Damn it Janet

I hope to entertain you. But I fear with the "hey I think I am getting a cold" feeling running through my bones, I am not sure that will happen. I am sorry. Forgive me? So now, instead of being creative, I am gonna list things that actually have happened to me that people would think are odd....Here goes, all of these are true

1)Brett Favre almost ran me over when I was waiting at the bus stop.
2)I can make sounds of a sprinkler
3)While working a haunted house I scared a little girl so bad that she literally shit her pants.
4)I used to paint only the index fingernail of my right hand black, because I thought it made a statement. I was 27.
5)I had a pogo ball with a purple ball and zebra base and I am pretty sure it was my favorite thing ever and it has molded every aspect of my life.
6)I farted on a group of girls at a Hanson concert because I didn't like their attitude.
7)One of the Bushwackers (WWF tag team of the 80's) licked my hand at a wrestliing match and made my mom really angry, I was 12.
8)I was stalked on a cruise by an over zealous "Christian single" man who said to me, and I use direct quotes, "I just want one hour alone with you" and later, while I was sitting with my family at dinner, "If you would come see me in Massechusettes, I would pay for your plane ticket and hotel" Totally fucked up my life for a week.
9)I used to have the giant cardboard display from the local video store for the movie Broken Arrow. And I am not even sure why.
10)I went to see the band Flickerstick perform because i watched every episode of Bands on The Run on VH1. I still love them. I voted for them. i was real glad they won.

And speaking of reality tv competitions, (Although I did not vote for him, I was a Mig/Jordis fan...It matters not because I like him now) the Marty Casey love for this post...I think he looks foxy here, and there is what appears to be a dick on the plate.

Night Night
S

Don't be jealous of Zac Efron, at least it isn't that douche from Twilight.

I love Zac Efron. I also love animal crackers, peanut butter and chocolate, My So Called Life and 90's booty music.

In this crazy mind you will find all sorts of thngs you may be suprised to know. Like I was born with six fingers on each hand. I have triple jointed fingers. I am lactose intolerant. All sorts of things that will make you think to yourself, "Gosh, this girl is bizarre." But I ask, am I really? Nope. I am just not good at hiding. I mean, I can't be all that strange, there are grown women obsessed with ficticious bedazzled vampires..

Now I know what you are thinking, "Your shirt proclaims your love for the dude from High School Musical" yeah, so? He is pretty and has good abs. Vampires are fake and will kill you. I win.

Sweet dreams and i hope rhinestone covered Robert Pattinson is no where around because that is the last thing I want biting my neck.

Time to close up shop here, so here it is, the Marty Casey love for this post. I find this appropriate because I know he is jealous of my love for Zac. (I have no idea who took this, but i give full credit to them)

Um, excuse me, I have a question.

How is it possible for two people to miss a song at a concert. There is video evidence of the Lovehammers playing Guns and well, maybe it was the beer and the shots, but neither Tiffany nor I remember them playing Guns. What happened during that song that both of our sub conscious minds decided to block it out. Bizarre. Did we warp to another land? Did we take a walk? Did we take a nap? I am not all too sure that we didn't do any of those things. All I do know is that we didn't see them do that song. Is this some sort of early onset dementia? possible. Maybe it is all the acid I dropped on Haight-Ashbury. Regardless, we don't remember.

And now for the Marty Casey love...I was at this show, same song, and quite honestly I don't remember it then either.

Hey look, it's drag cow.

Sometimes I am stunning. Sometimes. Ok, all the damn time. Go on, pretend you don't think I am fabulous, but I know the truth.

I have decided to change the face of this blog. (literally and figuratively.) If you are looking for personal data about me, you will find none. If you are looking for an ironic account of a girl's infatuation with Marty Casey, you will however find that. This blog is in jest. I hope that comes across. If not, I ask, WHY SO SERIOUS? Good night, I love you.

Sarah.

Now the Marty Love for this post... in a word, bubblegum.

Marty when we get married, can we get married in St. Louis? (part 3...The finale)

Woke up on day three feeling dehydrated and sore throaty. As I mentioned previously, I am not used to being in smokey bars and the second hand chain smoking made my hangover nasty. We layed in our separate queen sized double beds for a good while recalling the events of the previous night and decided before too long that we shouldn't waste our day just sitting there, so we got dressed and headed out hoping once again to find some sort of excitement in the "thriving" city.

First order of business was breakfast. We had Noodles and Co. It was good, although I once again mentioned to Tiffany how spicy my food was. After that we made our way to the Metro Link to head downtown. Now let me tell you about this experience. We walk down these stairs to get to where you buy the tickets. Debated on what fare to buy and decided on the round trip tickets. $4.50 and we waited for the train. By train, I mean two buses on a cable. We nick named this the trus. The Train Bus. It was sad. Very very sad. We take the trus to down town and got off right by the Busch Stadium. The first thing that struck us was that there was no one around. Not even local color such as a bum or a crack head. Nobody. We head over to the courthouse which proved to be very interesting. There is not meant to be sarcasm there, it really was one of the hightlights of the trip. You forget how awful somethings in history were until you see it. I love stuff like that. History is sexy. (wait, that's weird.)

We knew that if we came home from St. Louis the first question after "Why St. Louis?" would be, "Did you go in the arch?" so we headed over there. Wow. What a thrill. We decided not to go up in it (hahhaha go up in it) because for one thing the line was like 2 hours long and another thing, it would involve heights and elevators. Why not just kill me. My two biggest fears. So we took photos and started walking to get some grub.

We find this supermarket. It was like an oasis. We loaded up on healthy foods. ACTUAL food felt wonderful. I discovered that I love Naked Red Machine. We bought our groceries and found a place to sit and eat. It was quite lovely actually to be sitting outside in the sun. It was one of those quiet moments that you feel like God/whichever Deity you worship is with you. I love moments like that.

We look at the clock and realize that since we didn't have tickets to the benefit, we should head over to the venue to pick them up. So it was back to the trus and over to Chefietz Arena. Now this is when things get fun.

After another trus trip we arrive at the closest stop to the arena. Now when I say close, I mean 500 miles away. I have no problem walking. I do it all the time seeing that I live in a city with out a car. This, however seemed daunting. I won't bore you the details of the walk, but I will say this, I am now convinced that there is nobody that actually lives in that city. We didn't come across any people. Anywhere and 2 hours later we arrived at the arena, where there weren't any people either. We went in and bought our tickets, and asked the girl where we can catch a cab to go back to the hotel. She looked at us like we had just asked her the most confusing ridiculous question in the world. After that, we asked where there was a walgreens or target. Again with the look because we told her we wanted to walk. Apparently walking is a foreign concept, I suppose it would be seeing that there are no people in St. Louis.

What follows, is awful. The temperature dropped like 40 degrees and now we are walking down abandoned streets searching for a store to buy make up because we couldn't get back to the hotel. This lasted for about 2 miles until, like a beacon in the storm Tiffany spots a Wal-Greens. I have never been so happy to see anything in my life. We go in, buy some make up and head back.

Now tell me this, why is the walk back so much shorter? It seemed like the walk back took 5 minutes. We get to the show, and they went on first. Tiffany and I had a moment of sheer and utter elation seeing them perform in front of that many people in a place that big. And the quality of the show was superb. It was terrific. Even if Marty didn't take off his shirt, he did the crazy conductor thing. It was excellent. Good JOB!! (that was meant to be capitalized)

A Journey/Styx/Dierks Bentley concert later and the show was over. It was pretty cool to see the Styxx guy. Even if they didn't play Mr. Roboto. As we were leaving, we saw Cousin Bill packing stuff up and we went down to say hello, but he couldn't hear us, so we decided to bolt. We leave and circle the arena about 10 times looking for a cab. On one go round we saw Dierks Bentley walking out and to his van and you know what? He is ugly. Sad to say, but true.

We close out the night by having to call for a cab. It was quite the ordeal to try to tell the dispatcher where we were because we apparently had woken her up and she had never heard of the arena before. 30 minutes later, we are on the road back to the hotel. The night ended and we went to bed. The next morning we checked out and bid the city adieu. We got home at around 10 pm and I vowed that when I go on the road, I am never going to do any shows in St. Louis, at least none where I have to spend the night.

And now for the Marty Casey love for this blog. Awww...all is forgiven.
d

A Request Into The Great Wide Internet

If you happen to be reading this and you have some solo pictures of Marty Casey that you have taken or collected or miraculously came across, I request that you send them to me so I can use them as Marty Casey Love, which I include in every post even if the subject matter is unrelated to him. My email address is psychicdyslexicsm@gmail.com (I will credit you, don't you worry!) I just get sick of googling him, my computer is starting to think I am lame.

XOXOXOXOX

Sarah

And now, for the Marty Casey Love for this post. hahahaha

Marty when we get married, can we get married in St. Louis? (Part 2)

"Clang Clang Clang went the trolley!!"
Oh, the continuation of the St. Louis Story.

After we struck out looking for any sort of anything which resembled civilization in the fair city of St. Louis Missouri, we decide to go back to the hotel and start getting ready for the show. Tiffany jumps in the shower and I go outside for a smoke. (Oh I forgot to mention that it is a bit warmer than Chicago in St. Louis. THE ONLY redeeming factor.) I get back to the room after chain smoking while on the phone with Stephanie and Mimi, and this is what I am greeted with.


We settle in for a minute and watch an episode or two of Mythbusters. It was pretty interesting because they built a lead balloon. It was fascinating. And did I mention the taco bell? SHIT! literally. Anyway...so after very little needed effort, we are ready to hit the thriving nightlife of Saturday night St. Louis. WE get to the venue which is evidently Chuck Berry's restaurant. Now I didn't know that Patrick Fugit was a bar back at Blueberry Hill. Cuz there he was, tatted up schlepping empty dishes. Oh how the mighty fall.

Anyways, I had no idea that there were still places that allowed you to smoke inside. As a smoker, you would think I would be jazzed for such a thing, being used to Chicago and before that Orlando where it is banned. Well, I wasn't. It was a basement venue and to have a enclosed space with a bunch of smoker was just about enough to make me puke. Luckily the beer was cheap and able to take my mind off it. I am not saying I drank too much, although I am not saying I didn't. I decided to take it upon myself to order us our first shot of the night. Lemon drop. Mind you, the bar tender had no idea how to make it, so he gave me two cups filled half way with some strange vodka mixture. I am talking about three finger of liqueur. I think what made it a lemon drop in his mind was the little lemon garnish. Fine with me. As we waited, we had about 6 more rounds of bud light and then we met him. The drunk guy as we call him because we are nothing if not original and creative. Well, drunky evidently bought the Heavy Crown cd and with it came a pair of underpants that had a heart and Lovehammers on the butt. He insisted to us that they were unisex. We assured him they were in fact women's panties but he was insistent. We tried with all our might to get him to put them on over his pants. He told Tiffany that he would buy her the cd so she could have a pair, she politelyish refused. We did convince him to buy us a shot. This time it was gross. It was a shot of cheap ass well tequila. By this time the effects are setting in and my head is swimmy and I start my usual laughing and high fiving and telling people I am drunk. Drunk guy asks if he could take our picture, we said, fine. And what follows is the the one from Tiffany's camera. We dubbed me shiny face. Later Tiffany told me she likes the way I shine on. (I feel like I heard that somewhere else before :))

(ironically "Feel Like Makin' Love is playing right now on my iTunes. Seeing that now is the time I talk about he actual show)

Where do I begin about this show. Oh, the logical place. Marty Casey's outfit. It was his typical fedora, black long sleeve button down shirt, silver vest, red tie, pinstriped pants with a tie on the back belt loops and converse. I tell you what, that man never ceases to amaze me. Anyway, the show was good. Billy sang Bad Luck, Dino gave me bottle nod after I gave him one and of course Bobby was, well...Bobby. I mean, that man plays those drums with such force and conviction that anyone watching, and really paying attention, wouldn't be able to help but think he is something of the Gods. Like Thor himself has made him the honorary God of Thunder or something. The show went on for about 2 hours and they did a great job. Kudos boys. I asked Marty afterwards to play Creep next time and he didn't make me any promises.

By this time I am full swimmy head mode. The show is over and out pops Marty Casey into the see of fans. I wanted a picture so I had to brave the sea of pharmacy bought estrogen to get my chance. I semi embarrass myself

and get an answer to a question from earlier and Tiffany snaps the picture of us. As Marty works his way through the crowd the place clears out and we are left with Cousin Bill and a few others. Now, for those of you who don't know, Cousin Bill is a guitarist with the band and quite honestly one of the funniest guys I have ever met. Tiffany got a picture with him and he told me, "Wait, I have to put on my picture taking face" what happened next makes me really happy because his face is priceless!!!

We laughed with him and these two women for a long while until we were forced to go upstairs. Upon getting upstairs we realize that there is where the lurkers were and Marty was up there with some people. We didn't want to be creepy so we jetted. All in all it was a pretty decent night. I wish there would have been some face time with Bobby/Dino/Billy but hey, this was St. Louis, why not add another fail to the list.

(to be continued

And now, for the Marty Casey Love for tonight. This is the picture I had mentioned before. The color is crazy because the original was darker as you can see.

XOXOX
s.

Marty when we get married, can we get married in St. Louis? (Part 1)

This weekend was quite the adventure. And man, is that an overstatement. What follows is a play by play account of how I saw the events that transpired whilst in the armpit of the Midwest.

Day 1. We left the house at around 515 AM to make our train. Now, since I dyed my hair and cut my bangs and tried to load music on my phone, (all starting at around 1130 the night before)I had roughly 2 hours of sleep. Not a big deal. I have dealt with worse and plus there was a 5 hour train ride ahead, I was golden. We arrive in St. Louis after a pretty uneventful train excursion, hop in a cab and take the scenic route back to MoonRise Hotel. The cab driver drops us off across the street, literally without pulling over. Nice. We lug our shit out of the cab and I realize that the Mt Dew I had in my purse somehow created a three inch in diameter spot in the just to the left of the crotch of my jeans. Nice. So now it looks like I wet my pants due to the uber excitement awaiting me in the hotel. What excitement is that you ask? Oh let me tell you!!! Not only were there the worlds most comfortable beds, (triple sheeted!!! for those who have never heard of this, look into it. It's heavenly) but Marty was doing a trunk show for his jewelry line in our hotel, which was advertise right when we checked in, (see below)



Needless to say, I was not all too keen on walking into that looking like I had wet my pants, and so we went to the room to check it out, and give me an opportunity to blow dry the crotch of my pants. We had some laughs taking pictures (see below)





and I did the all important blow dry and we decided to take a walk and get something to eat. Upon first impression of the fair city, we realized that this was unlike any other place. It was desolate, yet big. We walked down the street and the ONLY place we came upon to eat at was a place called Pam's Chicago Style dogs. By this time we were famished so we went in. First thing I saw was this sign (see below)

Indeed, I am super special.

Any crap, we order our food, and sit down to eat. When finished, we hear something that made us both just about die. "Now I've, had, the time of my life...." instantly up and dancing. Assured that the rest of the trip was going to be super, we left to go say hello to my pretend celebrity rock star boyfriend. (BTW, my pants had by this time dried nicely. Although, due to later conversations with my pretend celebrity rockstar boyfriend, I am pretty sure he reads this and so the trouble I went through to dry my pants, almost seems in vain.) Now, since it really isn't any one's business what the actual conversation betwixt said pretend celebrity rockstar boyfriend consisted of, I will just leave it at he autographed my cd and found out he used to play tennis at Midtown Tennis Club and he has a huge hard on for Hulk Hogan (OK maybe not, but it's funny if you are either TK or MC) There was one moment however that made me wanna die, this little girl runs up and leaps into his arms, it was quite possibly the cutest thing I had ever seen. Awwww, too cute. Anyway, we wanted to leave because it was so warm and we didn't want to be psycho lurkers. I took a picture with him, and we split.

We leave the hotel and head over to Blueberry Hill to get tickets to the show. That was pretty uneventful, (the ticket buying, not the show) but we did notice that someone had been busy plastering all the street signs and electric poles with Lovehammers fliers. It was great! Then began our quest of a liqueur store. Guess what...NONE! We walked and walked and walked some more. We walked until we ended up far away and back again. We asked a couple on the street where the closest place was where we could by some beer. They told us nothing within walking distance. Now, I don't know if I am crazy, but wouldn't you think that there would be SOMETHING within a 3 mile radius that would sell a fucking bottle of wine or a six pack of Bud? Nope. Nothing. This was the first big fail of St. Louis. There were many many more.

(To Be Continued)

and now, for the MC love for the day. Notice how my face looks like I have a mild case of the uglies.
(see below)

Well Jesus H. Christ

My good friend Tiffany purchased this stunning hot pink velvet Jesus for me. I love it. It is everything that is good and right with the world. Maybe if Pat Robertson's Jesus were hot pink and velvet he would be a bit more understanding and righteous. What a dick. (Pat Robertson, not Jesus)

I am going to St. Louis this weekend. It is gonna literally be the time of my life. We are staying in a swanky "boutique" hotel, going to see the LoveHammers and maybe save some pets, all along being totally blitzed out of our minds in the dullest city in America. AWESOME! I really can't wait. It is gonna be TUBULAR!!!

I really oughtta get to bed. Last day of work before said trip and I know it is gonna be a long one. Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite.

And now, for the Marty Casey love, (ok, so it's the whole band, whatevs...I want this waiting for us when we get to the hotel)



xoxoxox
Sarah

It Kills

This post is just going to simply be a picture. The title will make sense.

Is there a bigger Bimbo?-TK

Oh hum. I can't even begin to have anything interesting to say. I could make something up. Ok. I will do that then.

Today I went to the courthouse to officially change my name to Brenda Walsh. When I got there the line was really long for the name change department so I decided to treat myself to the vending machine. I got a bag of Andy's Fries and a a box of Chuckles. I walked over to the cue and got in line. That is when I saw him.

He was beautiful. He had the kind of beauty that made you weep. His eyes sang, his arms were cut and his pants were corduroy. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. He turned around, smiled in my direction and began to walk towards me.

"Hello." I managed.
"Hi" he uttered.

The silence that followed was deafening. I filled the quiet with one part chip one part candy until my heart was bursting from my chest. I wanted to say something. Hell, I needed to say something. My mouth opens, vocal cords contract and I am about to tell this beautiful man that I find him beautiful, and out of the sky, I hear it. The most dreaded noise I could have heard at that moment. My number out of the lips of the government employee mocked me, and all I could give was a quick shrug and smile to him. Our eyes did not meet, but I knew he felt it.

I hand over my paperwork, my name change is complete. As I walk by where my dream man stood as he finished his business, my heart shipped a beat. What I heard was a gift. "I want to change my name to Dylan McKay."

Destiny.

(My pretend life is far more interesting than your pretend life)

And speaking of pretend, Now is the time for the Pretend Celebrity Rockstar Boyfriend love of this post. hahahaha...Anyway...

A few things I enjoy

Hi, here is a list of things I enjoy.
-Muppet Babies
-soft sour patch kids
-guys snowboarding
-wooly socks
-cheeseburgers
-snuggling
-music so depressing you laugh at yourself because you are crying
-musicians in brightly colored spandex
-aqua net hair
-rice crispy treats
-sexy gay men
-NSYNC music
-the burst of cold air when you walk into an airconditioned mall on a hot FL day.

That is it for tonight. I am going to go back now to listening/uploading Savage Garden to my iTunes. God speed my little bang buddies!!!

And now, for some Marty Casey Love. (said in Triumph the Insult Comedian Dog voice) "I kill you with my hat and wristbands!"

Bucket list

I think everyone should have a bucketlist. You know, that list of things that you want to do/accomplish before you die. I am not sure how many things are meant to be on said list, but I am going to make mine now.

1)I want to win the lottery. Everything else comes after.

End of list.

Now the Marty Casey love. This picture is down right..(insert adjective)

I am not one to mince words

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

HEY!!! Give me back my pens!!!

Pens. The story of a hoarder.

Monica found herself at a dead end job. Her days were spent servicing the needs of the elite and well to do and she wanted out. A sensible girl by nature, Monica knew that it was only a matter of time before her ship finally came in, or she would marry a Greek scientist. These were the things that kept her going while faced with the mundane and they were enough until today.

The snow outside was falling at astronomical rates and Monica knew that from the moment she got to work until the time she went to bed, all she would hear about is the utter amazement people felt towards the idea of snow falling in Chicago. Her agitation was justified because she had lived there her entire life and so had most of the people who felt the need to complain about it. "What the hell do they think is going to happen? It's fucking Chicago in January!" She proclaimed to herself while listening to random patrons expressing their disbelief.

"Lovely weather we're having, huh?!" an ugly sweaty woman said to her as she handed her her husband's credit card. Monica did not respond to this prying attempt at conversation. You see, Monica is not a fake person and the idea of satisfying the whims of this dried up socialite did not suit her. She just looked down at the computer and finished the transaction. that is when she saw it.

If it were at all possible for an inanimate object to appear magical, this would be the one. The sleek silver tip shone under the florescent ligths and the coup de grace of this object was it's green creature fixed perfectly on the clip. This object was delivered to her as manna from heaven, not wanting anyone to steal it, she immediately put it in her pocket and hoped that no one else noticed.

The day went on and as the minutes ticked on, Monica found herself staring at other pens on the desk. "Oh how sad you are" she said out loud without thinking. Her coworker looked over at her puzzlingly thinking she was referring to him, but that didn't deter Monica. She knew that she had to help them. The black cheap stick pens needed to learn the way and her hidden treasure pen was the answer. As he clocked out for the day, she thought with a certain elation about the 24 pens she carried in her jacket pocket. "Fear not, Actos (the name of the pharmaceutical written on the side) will show you salvation." she said as she started her car and began her drive home.

Monica knew she needed supplies for the ritual that awaits the pens. Since there was no manual on pen liberation, she closed her eyes as she sat in her car outside of Target waiting for answers from the divine. "Bumpit, Mousetrap, duct tape, milk, and towels, really?" she began to question out loud. "Alright, if that is what it takes." she says as she turns off the car and heads into the store.

As if a sign from heaven, she sees that someone had dropped an entire package of multi colored Sharpies. "The sages!" she exclaimed as she crouches down to pick them up. Gingerly, Monica raises the package slowly in the air to study them further. "I know what I must do. This is what you shall become one day," she says as she rubs her pocket which holds the pens.

"HEY, Give me back my pens!!!" a loud booming voice shouts, interrupting her moment of worship.

"What, oh, I am sorry, but these are not just pens," Monica says looking at the man. He is tall, muscular with flowing black hair and olive colored skin. "these are the keys that unlock the potential of the poor pens in my pocket. Actos has sent these to me as a talisman. To take these miraculous tools back would be a crime, and I will not let you do so."

"Look," the man said, pushing his hair out of his face, "I paid 8 bucks for these. Why don't you just go into Target and buy your own?"

"GIVE ME THE TALISMAN!!!! AAAAAHHH!!!" Monica screams, bursting into tears. "You are ruining everything!"

Sensing that Monica is having a major emotional melt down, the stranger puts his arm around her and whispers gently to her, "Look, I am sorry, I didn't realize how much you, um, needed these sharpies. The thing is, I need them too. I am a scientist and I have to make a presentation tomorrow in front of the National Committee for Saving Everyone. But hey, let me walk with you into the store, and I will help you get what you need. These can't be the only Sharpies sent from God?! Right?"

Monica couldn't help but notice how strong this strange man was. He had perfectly sculpted abs and his breath was as sweet as candy. He almost made her forget the task at hand. Snapping back into reality, she says, "That sounds good. I only need five things and I guess you are right, it is more about the act than the actual Sharpie."

They walked, slowly and silently into the store. With hesitation in his voice, the man spoke, "What else are we looking for?" He worried what the answer might be after the erratic behavior.

"Bumpit, Mousetrap, duct tape, milk, and towels."

"OK." he says. Like a lightening bolt, he knew. This was the woman he was meant to walk life's long windy road with. More than that, he began to believe. He believed that she could and would infact transform the pens in her pocket into mystical beings. The concept sent chills up his spine as he unknowingly took her hand and lead her to the health and beauty section. The two proceeded throughout the store gathering the supplies. He wanted to ask her what the ritual consisted of, but did not want to hear the answer, and he wasn't sure why. At the check out Monica realized she had forgotten the milk and the man went to get it. His feet were swift as if floating. His mind was racing with anticipation and excitement. The two checked out and left without saying a word.

"What happens now?" he asks, praying that she doesn't dismiss him.

"Well, I thought I was supposed to do this alone, but now it seems that you are meant to be a big part. I am going to go home and get my house ready for the ceremony. You are welcome to come if you want"

"YES! I mean, sure, I would love to come see this through. I mean, hey, we have come this far." He says trying not to seem too anxious and excited about the prospect of spending the evening with this strange and fascinating girl. "Why don't I drive? That way we can combine our energies and maximize the potential of our power."

"That sounds like an excellent idea." Monica follows the man to his car, a midnight blue Camaro. He opens the door for her and as she turns to get in, he gently kisses her on the forehead without thinking.

"This should be interesting." He smiles and they drive off to what is most definitely going to be the first night of the rest of their lives.

-To Be Continued

And for the Marty Casey love, This picture is ridiculous

In the mean time

I am planning on writing a blog later based on a suggestion given to me. But I don't have time right now!!! So instead I am writing this one.

I wrote a poem today. I sat down and let my words just come out. Below is said poem.


How far should I go to be next to you tonight?

That girl laying in your bed,
When she wakes up she might notice that you aren't ok.
Or she may not, I am not really sure how much she sees.
But if it were me, I would be able to tell.
Well, maybe that's just because I pay attention.

If I had to look at that wayward stare in your eyes
I would panic and run away
you would never be able to catch me.
I might let you if you tried, though.

Does she really make you happy?

I can't see how because lets face it, she is just a skirt
I am so much more and you know it
Iam not buying that you are with her for good.
If you were going to be, I wouldn't feel this way.

So take all your words that you whisper
Put them in a letter and mail it to my house.
I want to know what you really think about me
Not this watered down crap.
I need to know if you are worth all of this.

Because right now, I am not sure.

What I am getting at here, baby
Leave her for me.
There I said it and I am not taking it back
Please don't ask me to because I don't want to.

It is pretty expressive, the best part, I don't know who or what I was referring to, maybe it is pure creativity, maybe it was a cow. Who knows, all I know is I like it. I forgot how much I like writing poetry, even if it is not based directly on things I am going through. (This sounds an awful lot like I am trying to convince you of something. I am not)

Here is another one. Written a long time ago. This one has a specific person in mind. A friend and her love.

I love way that we find ourselves shaking,
After the stolen seconds that no one is supposed to see
With your hand on my back as if relaying what is meant
By the look on your face that you intend for me
But it’s too much, please don’t stop

You don’t know about all the breaths I take in your honor
Inhaling just to try to be closer to you
I have always been told that all things were connected
That when the plans were made we were all one
I guess this is my way of testing that.

This in-between limbo we find ourselves in
That’s bracing us for the inevitable resolve
When finally I can rest in your arms
Feeling in waking hours the love I know in dreams
Is getting to be too much, please speed it up.

How much longer do I have to wait for you
To turn your eyes back over to me
How many more nights do I sit and pine
Over you when I should be asleep
Too many if you ask me.

Don’t get me wrong and think I am giving you up
The point is lost because we are meant for each other
Eventually all this confusion will subside
Leaving behind two people in love
But for now, I miss you.



And now, for the beloved Marty Casey love for this post. I like this picture because he is trying really hard.

Marty Casey's dinner party

Here is another short story. It is about a man named Marty Casey who is having a dinner party. Enjoy.

It was 630 and the guests were set to arrive any minute. The candles were lit, the table cloth was firmly pressed, the glasses were all lined up on the table in the shape of a tree. All the trimmings and preperations that Marty Casey had gone through to make this party the smash that he dreamed of had not been in vain. His apartment was ready, and so was he. He had put on his favorite pinstriped pants, white longsleeved button down cotton shirt with the holes in his arms, and his black vest. The hat on his head had the quail feather that he believed was the key to his happiness, and it perfectly made his freshly flat ironed hair compliment his face and bone structure. "Tonight is going to be perfect." Marty said to his refelction in the 9 foot tall mirror in his living room.

DING DONG the door bell announced the first of his visitors. Marty took a deep breath and walked over to turn the knob. Bowing emphatically, he opens the door, "Welcome noble guests, please enter my humble home and enjoy the wonderment there within."

Looking up he sees a woman standing there who he did not recognize. She held in her hand an envelope with his name on it. "Can I come in Mr. Casey?" she requested with a certain look in her eyes that made him stir from the core of his pants.

"Yes baby, please do." he said nervously. There was something about her. Her hair smelled like Cap'n Crunch and her heels were 6 inches tall. She walked with purpose and when she entered his house, she looked at the table. Marty suddenly had a horrible feeling, what if this elegant creature doesn't like his table setting? His heart began to race.

"Mr Casey, I have come here for one reason, and one reason only. You see, 29 years ago when I was at day care, I drew a picture of who I thought would be my ideal man. He was blonde, about 6'2, slender and could conduct magical orchestras with his arms and his words. Mr. Casey, I believe you are he. Now, before you say anything, I a not here to trap you, I am here for a greater purpose. I have, in this envelope the answer to a question that the love of your life will ask you tonight."

Totally dumbfounded, Marty asked the obvious question. "But, you just said that I was your ideal man, if that paper answers a question from the love of my life, where does that leave you?"

"Oh Mr. Casey, I have come to realize long ago that you and I were never supposed to be together. Just because you are my ideal, that does not mean we are supposed to ever bring justification to our love. I know this makes no sense, but the beauty of the whole thing is that it is not supposed to. I must go, it was nice meeting you, and I love the song Trees. Perfect mix of poppy beats and lyrical mastery. Well done" and with that, this tall stranger was gone leaving behind the envelope and a confused Marty.

As the night went on, his guests who arrived enjoyed his food, company and spirits. The party was turning out to be a smashing success and Marty was extremely pleased. A game of "Worst Joke" was well underway. Tito Sparklepants, (the flambouant stripper who crashed the party) enthusiastically stands up and clears his throat, "I got one. What do you get when you are playing tennis and you fall into a vat of curdled milk?"

"Oh you've got to be kidding me" he says,angrily as he remembers what was written on the piece of paper in the envelope.

"Cheese Racquet"

El Fin.

Her name is Aziza

And she always forgets her name badge. But it's ok. I like her regardless. Even though she wears hats everyday and listens to John Mayer. I mean, really...John Mayer. Why don't you just stab me in the heart with a rusted lemon juice soaked spork? John Mayer is to music what the meteor was to the dinosaurs. Ok, so maybe that's a bit harsh, a meteor doesn't know any better. But believe me, John Mayer does.

I kid, I don't really hate John Mayer. I only wish he would stop singing and putting out music.

And now for the Marty Casey love...I just like this picture because I think it's hot.


UPDATE: All is forgiven, Aziza likes Gavin Rossdale. I can forgive her most anything right now. Kudos Miss Jones. All is right in the world again.

I love this video. I love how ridiculously shameless it is in its owning of all that embodies the hair band glory of the early 1980s. This song will be sung by me and my future husband at our wedding, (Whoever he may be) It speaks for me.



And here it is, the Marty Casey love for this post. I like this picture cuz he too is shameless in his owning of all that embodies a guy who knows how to rock and to roll, in really tight pants and black finger tape.

HEY VENDING MACHINE!!!

I WIN!!!!! I have no quams about taking the m&ms that you let slip out without payment. Sarah 1- Vending Machine 0!!!

Sparkles

I am so sleepy. I have been given a subject by my comedy husband Vince, but I am too exhausted to write about it tonight.

So here's a ditty for you. Picture if you will a night out with a friend. You want to win a trip to Jamaica. What would you do to win? Well, I guess I would do a lot. I would tell you specifics but I would have to kill you. Don't worry, it wasn't illegal, although, it felt like it. Marty was there, and he cheered me on. But I never made it clear that I arrived. I didn't win the trip. Ah well, you can't win them all. At least I got a shot and some awkward conversation, and hey...he knows my name now.

Good night world, suck it. You wear me out


And now, for the awkward Marty Casey love for this post. It's a picture of us.
xoxox
Sarah

Lizard hands

While asking Tiffany what I should write about in my blog for today, she answered, "Lizard hand" Um, OK. I think I can do that. The true meaning of her subject however was dry hands. I believe it would be much more interesting and fun if I made up a story about a man who had actual hands of a lizard. Now, for creativity sake, I am going to give him a fake name. That name is Marty Casey. I know, I am quite creative. Anywhoodle, what follows is the soon to be classic short story entitled, "Lizard Hands, the story of Marty Casey"




It was winter. The weather had been entirely too cold and when the wind blew it left a hole in your soul. The towns people who lived in the small village of Amphiba Falls were holding tight to their resolve because it had been rumored that all the oil was drying up and they soon would be without lanterns and other random items that use oil to either warm them or light their homes. Chaos was on the horizon and the town lusted for a hero to stop the pending doom.

unannounced to them, one such hero lived on the outskirts of the village in a small wooden shack. His name was Marty Casey, and he had never set foot in the public settings of Amphiba Falls. Why you ask? Well friend, the reason is simple. Our soon to be saviour had a bizarre ailment, he was born with a grotesque deformity that would make even blind men look twice. Our protagonist was born with hands unlike any man ever seen. Marty Casey had lizard hands.

The mayor of Amphiba Falls was in full on panic mode. His heart raced when he saw the "Oil Level Meter" flashing "DIRE DIRE DIRE" and he did what any good Republican would do. He blamed the poor disenfranchised minorities and ran to the hills. After his press conference he grabbed his brief case, a fifth of scotch and ran into the forest directly towards the shack where Marty Casey lived.

Oh the shock was priceless when the mayor stumbled upon the humble dwelling. He knew not what to imagine was going on inside the three and a half walls that made up this shabby abode. He did know, however that desperate times called for desperate feats so he took all his self righteous ideals and threw them aside and proceeded to pull on the bell and alert the resident of his presence.

The door opened and a man stood in the door way. He was tall, and smiling. The mayor noticed he was barefoot and yet wearing plaid wool mittens on his hands. The mayor explained his situation and asked the man if he had any idea where he can find answers to his growing problem.

Marty Casey took a deep breath, bent his left knee back and kicked the mayor straight in the balls so quick and hard that the mayor blacked out from both shock and pain. When the mayor woke he saw the man sitting next to him holding an envelope.

"I am sorry, that is out of line." Marty said as he helped the mayor to his feet.

"What the hell, why did you kick me while I was searching for help?" the mayor said crying softly.

"I can't help it I have lizard hands, but here, use this to buy furnaces and floor lamps." Marty said as he hands over the envelope and walks slowly back to his meager domicile.

"Wait," the mayor says after looking at the contents of the envelope, "this is too generous, you have never even set foot in our city, and you want to help us. Why? How do you find such generosity in your heart?"

"I figure it's the least I can do, I mean, after all, I am sleeping with your wife"

EL FIN.

See, much better than talking about dry skin. Oh and Tiffany, I have some lotion if you need it.

Here is the Marty Casey love for this post. A video where he lays down a lot. Oh and if you are so inclined, check out his hands...:)

On a serious note

Why is it that somethings remain a mystery? I wish that there were reasons clearly labeled on certain things that would tell you why they happen so you aren't left sitting there scratching your head for God knows how long. I get that people are not supposed to have all the answers, and that is fine, but a clue to somethings would certainly be helpful.

Case in point, the dog. Why does it always try to get into my room? I think he does it to piss me off. Most times, he just opens my door and then turns to look at me in defiance. I think he knows that I am gonna have to get up off the sofa and walk over to him to shoo him away. Fucking dog, he is lucky I love him so much.

Speaking of the dog, why is he always farting on me? Dog farts are the closest thing to hell and he seems to do it just as I am getting comfortable. UGH! Oh well, he is still the cutest peanut ever!

Another thing that I would like clarified is back fat. I mean really...why?

I should try to sleep now. It is 230 and I love to sleep. Why? I don't know. Stop asking so many questions. ;)

I feel like I could go on forever, but I really don't know what will come out (see another mystery!) I do know that this at time last year I was a lot more frazzled. I dropped some mentalities and now I am just trying to get back to normal. Strange choice of words I suppose. Normal for me anyway. There are people and places and things that I had to drop and I didn't want to, so I raged against the prospect in secret because I was too scared to admit it to my friends. But I am glad to say that as I type this, I have dropped said things. Even if it is just for tonight. It's amazing how a Douche free life can make you realize what a mess you were in. That came out wrong, I was speaking of a metaphoric douche. Without the metaphor, that didn't make sense.

Ok, I am gonna go now. Last time for the night. I love you, unless, once again, you are one of the three. In that case, go f yourself!


And now...for a bit more Marty Casey love-

here he is singing my favorite Foo Fighters song.

My first YouTube video

On my path through Orlando, I became quite a fag hag. I had one of my finest moments at a hole in the wall gay bar with one of my BFF's Nick. He filmed it and put it on youtube. I loved him for it.

I remember there was a woman, dressed like a man. Turns out she wanted to sing this song and since I put my request in first, I stole her thunder and she got plenty peeved at me. Oh well, my boobs are bigger and I did a much better job. (Notice how I steal the mic back!!!) And to top it off, I had a black guy. She had herself and she looked like Annie Lennox.

Here it is cyberlovers, my first moments of viral fame. Enjoy and use a tissue!!



xoxoxox

Random is the case that they gave me.

Here and there, and everywhere...these are the thoughts in my head. It is the start of a craptastic winter here in the Windy City. Our heat had been out for over a week, and now with it back on, I feel like it is a gazillion degrees. I guess it is true that you can't win for losing.

I didn't make any new years resolutions, because I hate failing. I mean, really? Like I was ever going to start working out or quit smoking. The only thing I vow to do this year that is any different than last year is I am going to rock a lot more. I mean it, I really need to start rocking out at every turn. That is the only way to live if you ask me. (which I know you have seeing that you are reading my blog) I feel this especially necessary so I can say, with honesty, at the end of 2010, "Hey yo, I rocked the shit out of this year!" I hate lying.

In other news, I am getting progressively better at Rock Band. I am hardly ever getting less than 90 percent while singing. Which clearly indicates that I should be a famous singer. Ask anyone who has heard what these pipes can do, and you will agree. It is just the most logical step. I will be a rock singer. Even if it is just in the comfort of my living room while drinking a Bud Light in my pajamas on a Saturday night. (I am one inch away from becoming Crazy Cat Lady!!! EXCITING!) Hey, seriously, if I have to be a Crazy Cat Lady, at least I am doing it knowing I got a 100 percent (on Hard mind you!) while singing Round and Round by Ratt! Take that haters!

Let's see, what else??? Oh, my roommate Tiffany sprayed me with bottled spray tan at WalGreens and now I have an orange dot on my hand. Nice.

That's about it for tonight, (Well technically yesterday) I love you all, except of course if you are one of those three douches that I write my poetry about.

And now for my Marty Casey love for the evening....

I love his lowrise skinny jeans.



XOXOX
Sarah

Disclaimer

In an effort to start this off properly I feel like I must explain a few things in advance. In the description of my blog I said that I was going to write about Marty Casey, (lead singer of The LoveHammers) And I am afraid to say that I am misleading you. Where as I do thoroughly enjoy Marty, and would love to make out with him if given the chance, I fear that some of the more serious subject matter that I write about in poetry form will give the wrong impression. Marty Casey has not wronged me in any way. He is not the subject of my verse. That title belongs to one of three other very specific men (and I use that term loosely) who do not even warrent the use of their first names and who's identies will be spared due to possible slanderous lawsuits that could follow.

I am not indicating that this entire blog will be sadness filled and mopey, but from time to time, I am both of those things. Rest assured, 99 percent of the time, the reason is not Marty Casey. Enjoy my blog. I love you. Well, unless you are one of the three aforementioned losers, then I take that back. I think you suck.

As will be customary, I conclude this post with some Marty Casey love-

He is one of few people who can make me a fangirl


xoxox