I’ll Punchasize Your Face, For Free

August 21, 2009

Today I was trying to think of things that would be satisfying to punch because sometimes you need to punch things. While I was thinking about punching things, I thought to myself, “Sarah, you’re not really that strong. A punch would be wildly ineffective.” Let’s face it, a good punch wouldn’t even get out my aggression because the whole time I’d be thinking “THIS DOESN’T EVEN HURT THIS IMAGINARY PERSON.” Then I’d just be sad. Problem not solved.

Really I’m more of a scrappy fighter. I’m pretty quick. I’m pretty anticipatory. I’m pretty good at indiscreetly fucking people up before they even see it coming (sorry, mom. I know you hate the f-bomb). I think what I’m actually describing are my soccer skills. I’ll beat you to the ball (HA). I know what you are going to try to do before you do it and I stop you like a tiny Mack truck (HA). And all the while, you’re thinking I’m this tiny defender that you can totally school and then I take the ball from you and run off, leaving you on the ground even though you were totally trying to throw an elbow in my face (HA).

What I’m trying to say is that people always underestimate me because I clearly am not that big or loud. In fact, I’m basically the opposite. I’m small and quiet. But, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for. In fact, I’m pretty sure my parents named me Sarah Elizabeth because it’s the plainest name ever invented and they thought, “The irony of this name for her will be incredible.” Seriously, who doesn’t love irony? (Answer: Alanis Morissette does not love irony. Needing 10,000 spoons and only having a knife is not ironic, Alanis. It just sucks. Way to teach thousands of people to incorrectly use that word).

Anyway, you’re thinking about how I’m small and plain and boring. You’re all like “Not only is she incapable of punching me, she also will never even muster up the anger to attempt it.” And I’m all like “Screw you!” And then I pull out my knife. Prison rules, bitches. Who’s sorry now? (You, in case that was unclear).

All I’m saying is don’t underestimate me.

– Sarah #2

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Cool Aunt Sarah

August 4, 2009

My sister had a baby. Brenna – that’s her name. She’s this super tiny thing that I want to hold and bounce around and teach. And by teach, I mean bond with. And by bond with, I mean corrupt.

Who knows if I’m going to have my own kids? This could be my best chance to mold the youth of America to my liking. I’m totally all about quitting my job and teaching Brenna about the wonders of the world, starting with General Hospital. She can’t grow up in a world where Luke and Laura aren’t in her vernacular. I won’t allow it! And who’s going to tell her that it’s okay to watch Hannah Montana (even when you’re 24)? My dad won’t tell her that. He will totally tell her the opposite of that. Listen up, Brenna. Don’t let go of your youth. When it’s 12am and you should be sleeping because you’re a member of the “real world,” do not hesitate to stay up late watching the Disney Channel instead. You can sleep at your desk tomorrow.

And who, I ask you, is going to teach her to play soccer? ME. Because Brenna, soccer is the only acceptable sport for a lady to play. You get down, you get dirty, and you get to kick stuff. Those are life lessons, my friend. I still kick stuff. Like ass. (I also take names, on occasion).

Most importantly, I plan to teach her to say hilarious things. We’ve already started. I taught her 4 words in Spanish because I want her to be a saucy bilingual minx. However, I’ve also said as many hilarious slang words as I can whilst in her presence. Fo shizzle, Brenna. This technique works quite well. Ask my dad, he now says “hanging and banging.” “What are we doing, Brenna? GrandDuff, we are just hanging and banging” – I taught him that phrase and yes, I did hear him say that to her in the hospital room.

So, Brenna, my little homeslice, I can’t wait to hang out with you. We can watch Wizards of Waverly Place and then I’ll teach you how to do the Macarena. Fun times already.

– Sarah #2