my brother is ridiculous(along with an explanation of my absence)

Dear Super Fans,

I've been gone now for an extended period of time. I sincerely apologize...but honestly if I were to write to you during this time...it would have been sad...unentertaining...and lame. I didn't want to bore you...or for my hilarity to suffer because my mood has been perpetually sour the past few days.  I think that it has been the most unfabulous week and half in the history of weeks. No worries though people...I'm starting to feel like myself again. 

Today has been most uneventful...so what did I decide to do? Nap...hello? Do you know me at all? Well...as I was napping I was rudely awoken...not once....but twice by my twerpy 14 year old brother calling wanting to talk to me.(Man that sounded bitchy) Anyway...my baby brother is not exactly verbose when it comes to phone conversations...usually it's just to bug me and quote a retarded movie that we both find hilarious...today however, I knew he had something up his sleeve.

He knew that if he bugged me thoroughly that I would violently take my brain from sleep mode...to blog mode...so I could bitch about him waking me up.  Very clever little brother...very clever...now not only have you a blog dedicated solely to your retardation...you have jolted me out of my unsarcassistic funk back into full blogging force. I applaud you.  I'm sure my readers appreciate it. 

So here I am...back to my old self...somewhat bitchy...but feeling utterly fabulous. 

Do forgive me for my absence....blame Bruce Wayne ;)

I'm heading out...to take myself to a gourmet dinner...cooked by the executive chef himself at Taco Bell...don't be to jealous. 

Over and Out,

B

an list of (totally legitimate) reasons that single women have it made(and save the world) on Valentine's Day.

I know you all have been sitting on the edge of your seat waiting for me to blog today as I did promise a most entertaining entry. Why so late you ask? Well...honestly...I decided that it would be best if I waited until the end of this blessed day to blog...just in case my knight in a Polo sweater and well fitting jeans decided to show up at my door with some sort of ridiculous display of affection for me (roses...chocolates...new car...whatever he sees fit) and change my opinions on this fabulous holiday. Well...the man that is supposedly destined to adore me didn't show up this year to sweep me off my feet and moreover my cynical soapbox...so never to fear Super Fans...the blog will be as Sarcassistic as ever. 

On with the list!

1) First and most important, we single people get to wear sweatpants alllllllll day on Valentine's Day without disappointing anyone.  So while all you "happy" people are out in your binding little black dresses...us single gals will be ridin' cozy in our oversized elasto-pants. Glamorous? Maybe not...Truthful? As honest as Abe himself. 

2) The flowers you get? Yeah the beautiful, fragrant expressions of adoration...they were perfectly happy in the ground with their little flower families before they were brutally kidnapped and tortured into a hideous vase to die on your nightstand...feel bad coupled people....fell very very bad. 

3) We are totally entitled to watching a violent slasher movie...who needs the notebook? The bloodier...the better. 

4) I know most of the women preparing for dates tonight used an unreal amount of product to get their hair to be just right...All that hairspray you used to keep your Bump-it at the perfect height put immense holes in our O-Zone. The aqua-net might as well suffocate me in my sleep...us single people are trying to breathe here...Although I'm sure the people sitting behind you at the theatre trying to enjoy the sappy movie you all payed too much to see were most assuredly pleased with the extra teasing and elevation of your fro...your date could care less...lay off the aerosol people.   

5) I, along with all other single women not participating in tonight's events, don't have to waste time with the absurd practice of shaving our legs....I get to spend an extra 10 mins doing much more productive things...like laundry...and my sweatpants keep my limbs securely covered making me totally unaware of the amazon growing on my lower appendages. 

5) The precious cards that bring you all to tears are made of paper...which I'm sure you all know....is made from trees....which I'm sure you know...provides our oxygen. Between the aerosol punctured atmosphere and the bare forests I'm starting to become short of breath...I hope that the moving Hallmark poem that 1,000 other people were just as touched by is worth the price of the oxygen tank you will soon be lugging around. 

Sorry...I sound like an environmentalist...let's get back to the fabulous factor. 

 Bottom line...while you all are sipping your wine...batting your fake eyelashes...and crossing your shaved legs..I'm here representing the single life in my sweatpants...basking in all it's glory.  I am hopeful though readers...as I'm sure all other women in the single species are...that one day we will join the V-Day perpetrators... However, this year....we're going to stay at home...in our SuperHero Sweats and do our part to save the world...

Enjoy your day Valentine's participants. Tomorrow starts the 364 day long celebration of the single life...

It's very very late....and I'm beyond exhausted from my day of lounging and eating Ben & Jerry's. 

Your Fabulous Friend, 

B. 

the internet here is slower than the postal service during Christmas. blah.

Today it was brought to my attention that my small group of followers is starting to feel rejected. I do sincerely apologize. It is not my intention to neglect you, Super Fans...I feel bad...I should have taken into consideration that you all have become addicted to the fabulous documentation of things that I see...do...and become annoyed by.  For me to deprive you of your daily Sarcassism is unfair...so...I will do better to provide you with your fix more frequently...your crack itchies can subside for now.

 

 

I must admit...I left out a couple of important things out of my timeline...I had my reasons...and now...I feel it is time to fill you in and also because if I feel like writing about them I'm going to need you to know what's going on.

First, I'm an athlete..a collegiate athlete at that...I play softball at University # 2...I know, I know....I should have told you this...because it is a big player in my everyday...but cut me a break people...I needed you to become addicted to my witty banter before you made any preconceived notions about me as an athlete. It's what I do...not who I am...so there...now you know. Oh...I'm a pitcher...so...that's important too.  My incredible friends here that I spoke of in previous entries are my teammates...no preconceived notions about them either please...they all are dying to be featured in Sarcassistic...(patience teammates...i am working on all of your alias'...there are 20 of you guys...give a girl a break)

Also, I take pictures...well not just normal, stand in the mirror, make a stupid pouty face and put it on facebook pictures...I'm sort of a photographer...I have my own company...I do weddings...portraits...pretty much anything you want. OH! I forgot the most exciting photo shoot of my short career....I shot the album cover for a pretty freakin famous, contemporary Christian band...Shane & Shane....the albums on iTunes(and at Best Buy..yeah..I know...so cool :))...so...if you want you can check it out.

Anywho...I felt that since we chitchat on a pretty regular basis I should no longer keep these things from you, readers.  Don't go snooping around with the information that I've given you trying to find out my identity though...as I mentioned earlier...I do NOT need this blog to rain on my parade to stardom. ;) 

I don't know if you've all made a countdown yet...but Valentines Day is only 4 days away...I hope you're all as I excited as I am. I've got a hot date planned with this here MacBook to write a fabulous rendition of the age old classic "Valentine's Day Sucks" written by centuries of bitter and cynical,single women...sitting on their couch...eating tear drenched chocolates while watching unrealistic tv movies on Lifetime.  It's sure to be heartwarming. 

Don't get withdrawals without me,

B.

PS. I find myself writing this blog to a fictitious audience of people that don't actually know me...when most likely if you're reading this you're one of my good friends...or my mom. I appreciate you all for the dedicated following...Nevertheless, a girl can dream that one day...some of my readers will only know me as B(my unapologetic alter-ego that exists only in this here blog). I have high hopes. 

Over and Out, Super Fans. 

I am addicted to sex and the city

It's Sunday...and I slept incredibly late. It was nice.  Inversely...I was up incredibly late....not by choice this time. There was a raging party in the parking lot 4 floors below me...where the musical stylings of various artists that claim to be lil'(which I'm not sure I understand....if I were trying to keep my street cred in check I'd wanna be "enormous" or "gigantic" or..."Super Sized" if you will) boomed through my half opened window.  I pushed away the burning desire to join them in their soiree which was sure to please as there were copious amounts of cheap beer...and people that would have been assuredly entertaining.  Instead...I put on my favorite sweatpants...and turned on season 3 of Sex and the City.

Like the title of today's rant said....I am addicted to Sex and the City. I want to be Carrie Bradshaw....well minus the heels(I don't wear heels...ever. EVER.)...and minus the on-again-off-again relation-shit with Mr. Big....and minus the ridiculous outfit choices in Season 1-4(she very much matured in her wardrobe selections as the series carried on)....oh and we must not forget to omit the outrageous sex-capades with various men which most certainly would have left any non-HBO star...a very itchy token of their time together. Anywho, I do love this show...and when I can't sleep...or when my brain doesn't want to read or do the homework for my broadcast journalism class(which I once in a while neglect until the last possible minute)...or when people at a "kick ass" parking lot party won't shut the hell up...Sex and the City is always my go to addiction.  

I do apologize if this entry lulled you into a daze...it's hardly entertaining...it's entirely too early to be blogging...but I have neglected you, dear readers for a couple of days and didn't want you to think I was already famous and forgot about my Super Fans....i've just been preoccupied with utterly fabulous things that I shall tell you about very soon...

P.S. I must apologize to a few people that I promised a blog dedication to...I am truly sorry Brother...Sister #1...Bruce Wayne...and Princess Pretty Hair(one of my very best friends at University #2 that I vowed to write about in the near future) You will all have your 500 words of fame in Sarcassistic very soon...don't lose hope ;) 

P.S. Again. Super Fans...don't make an ass of yourself watching the super bowl...the tv is a one way portal...they can't hear you...GO COLTS....or SAINTS...GO WHOEVER IS GOING TO WIN!!! I'm just ready for baseball season...

Happy Sunday...enjoy it because Mondays suck.

B.

i'm 21. and i need my mommy.

Dear Laundry,

You always seem to grow when I'm not looking. I swear the other day you were just a few shirts...now...you are starting to take over not only my room...but my life...and I hate you. 

I never...ever want to take you downstairs...you know why? Because you're fat...you're fat and heavy...I usually wouldn't be so blunt about it...but you are seriously getting out of hand.  You're about to go on a freakin' diet laundry...i'm tired of your gluttony.  

Sometimes I wish I didn't have an aversion to nudity...because I would literally walk around...naked as a jaybird...to keep from dealing with you.  Sadly, I am reluctant to take such drastic measures because unlike my blog...me walking around naked would have very severe social repercussions.  Nevertheless, laundry, the threat stands. 

It's a vicious cycle, dealing with you. I wash you...put you on a chair(because folding is a colossal waste of time...i have more important things to do..like nap)....then I put you on my fabulous body and show you off to all my friends...this...is the moment it all goes downhill...this is when you turn on me...the instant I take you off to go the next outfit...you get an attitude(and an odor) that I don't feel like dealing with.  

If only mom were here....she'd put you in your place, laundry...or if I were really lucky...she'd throw you away...and buy me all new laundry...maybe some that will take care of itself for a change. 

Sadly...tonight I have to give into you...and take your heavy ass downstairs...put stupid, cheap detergent on you...then wait...and wait....until I can throw you in the stupid dryer...where you'll most likely shrink...because unlike mom...I suck at you, laundry. Suck Suck Suck. 

You win today...but mom will be in town soon enough... 

Once again...I hate you.

Sincerely annoyed,

B.

i wear my ($8) sunglasses at night

I'm up entirely too late again. Sitting here in front of my beloved MacBook I can't help but mull over what to write about in my 3rd attempt to make the 10 minutes you, dear readers, spend reading my blog worth your while. 

I was talking with Sydney today...conversing about the usual...her perpetually bitchy coworkers...my perpetually incredible(redundant...but nonetheless fabulous) events of the day. Towards the end of our talk she said something about how television is utterly ruining our lives by creating unreasonably high standards that are mirrored in our favorite characters' fictional personas. This struck a key with me...and I thought that that statement in itself would be the inspiration for tonight's entry in Sarcassistic. However, if we are all honest with ourselves this topic has been turned inside out by many a writer and I am not here to push my own ideas on a worn out matter.  Not my style. 

Never to fear Super Fans...the late hours never fail to boost the creative juices.  

Over the past few months my mind is continually preoccupied with a reoccurring theme...I, sarcassistic blogger, am a freakin' mess and my adult life waits in the near future to laugh at me when I fall on my fabulous face. I'm sure most of you have been absorbed with this same notion a time or two....or maybe you haven't...and you just go with the flow...if so I envy you. But for those of you who have walked a block...or a mile in my current shoes can appreciate my engrossment with said notion.

I'm 21...in college...on the path to graduating on time...I have supportive friends...and family....and dog(we cannot forget about Barbara Jean) Just the same though readers...I am scared shitless to be grown up.  

I have always been well versed when it came to talking with adults...I can't remember a time when I lacked confidence in what I had to say...that might be because i'm opinionated to a fault...I place this trait in the "endearing qualities" file. Nonetheless, does simply being able to shoot the breeze with anyone of substantial public weight mean that whatever I choose to do with my adult life will knock at my door offering me a job...not just a job but a career...a career that can support my $8 sunglasses habit at that? I don't think so...

I don't mean to be a downer readers...it's just what was on my mind. Maybe I'm lost? Maybe you're lost? Hell...we're probably all lost in some form of the word...I guess for now I'm ok with it. What's a girl gonna do? I'm not sure I'm the sort of person that benefits from an aptitude test...so that option's out...I KNOW I'm not the kind of person that settles...so that's definately out the window...

For now I guess...I'll just continue to do what I do...with a big ass, confident smile on my face. Because, readers, if I'm lost...I'm lost in the best possible place. What more could I ask for?

That's all I've got for now...stay tuned...many exciting adventures await me...and you...since I plan to tell you all about them.  I am removing the sunglasses and going to get my beauty sleep...another fabulous day beings in eight restful hours. 

Over and out, dear readers...

B.