Someone Thought I Was a Man Yesterday, So I Ate Half a Pizza By Myself

Hello. My name is Sara, and I am not a supermodel.
Now, that is perfectly easy for me to say. I am not upset that I will never strut the catwalk during Fashion Week wearing clothing that costs a gajillion dollars while people take endless pictures of me. I happily accept that I will not be featured on the cover of a magazine for my beauteous looks. I will never be the girl that walks in a room and every guy turns to stare, and I prefer it that way.
I am content with being ordinary looking.
Now, that being said, I do try to keep up with my appearance, and I have a perhaps slightly unhealthy love of clothes (hence the bargain fashion blog). I make an effort to at least negotiate some sort of treaty with my ungovernable hair, at least when I’m going out in public. I don’t wear eye makeup, true (every time I try I inevitably forget I have it on and rub my eyes), but I do wear some makeup. In short, I try to look at least presentable, and I am usually happy with how I look, even if I’m not the fairest of them all. I can accept that.
But does it really strain credibility for me to believe that I am fairly easy to recognize as a girl? Is it asking too much to expect people to be able to identify my gender?
Apparently for one of the employees at CiCi’s Pizza, it is.
Yesterday for lunch my dad and I went to CiCi’s, which is a pizza buffet if you’ve never eaten there. It’s already pretty cheap, but then from 2-4 they have a happy hour sort of thing where you get the buffet for $3.95. That’s all the pizza I can eat for cheaper than a gallon of gas costs in some places in Oklahoma right now. Let me stress that I really love CiCi’s and its great bargainyness. So we roll up for lunch and I’m all excited, not just about the price but also because CiCi’s has one of my favorite types of pizza ever- Alfredo Cheese Pizza. If you’ve never had any… I’m sorry. It’s glorious. But more on that later.
So anyway, everything goes normally; we pay, select our pizza, get our drinks, and then go to sit down. As we are doing so, there is a busser who goes around and cleans up the tables after people (there’s no waiters or anything), and he’s cleaning the table next to the booth I choose. So my dad and I are about to sit down, but we stop to let him push past the booth with his cart so he can go to the one behind us. He does so, and just before we go to sit down, he says, “Can I get you gentlemen anything else?”


are you serious
I was honestly so shocked that I just didn’t say anything. My dad says something, and I just go to sit down in the booth, when the busser apparently seems to realize that I was not, in fact, a man. He says embarrassedly, “Oh, sorry. It’s been a long day.”


are you serious 2
Um, I’m sorry, but it’s barely two in the afternoon. What kind of day have you had that by two in the afternoon you’re so frazzled that you mistake me for a man? Because, and I don’t think I’m being unreasonable here, YOU SHOULD PROBABLY QUIT. I didn’t think I was dressed particularly boyish either. I mean, I admit I think that I look like a boy with my hair up sometimes, but it was totally down. Guys, I’d even CURLED IT for the first time in ages. I’ve been sleeping in til like 1:30 every day and my straightener is in its death throes and nearly impossible to keep on for more than 30 seconds at a time, so I’ve just been throwing my hair in some sloppy side bun/pinned blob/hair style using lots of clips (oh, the glamorous life I lead). I mean, I’m not saying it was the BEST look I’ve ever done, but I was planning on taking a picture of the outfit to put in my fashion blog. I just… I don’t know. You be the judge:

Perhaps camel isn't my best color, BUT OMG DO I REALLY LOOK LIKE A MAN?!

I mean, perhaps camel isn’t my best color, BUT OMG DO I REALLY LOOK LIKE A MAN

You can tell from my not quite full, patently unreal smile that I was feeling very bitter when I got home afterwards and took this picture. I just… the silky shirt, the curly hair, and the statement necklace? I was wearing navy shorts and leopard flats. There were no clues for you, CiCi’s guy, really no clues??
Backing up a little to regain the thread of my narrative (see, that English degree was worth something), as I mentioned I absolutely loved CiCi’s Alfredo Cheese Pizza. Now, I already have a tendency to eat more at CiCi’s than I should, because IT’S A PIZZA BUFFET. But honestly, I pretty much just eat the Alfredo Cheese Pizza. Now, the nice thing about CiCi’s is that if the pizza you want isn’t out on the buffet, all you do is request it, and they will whip you up as many slices of it as you want. ACP is usually not put out on the buffet, so I almost always end up requesting it, and when I do I usually request like four or five slices, because go big or go home. I figure if I’m going to request it, I want to make sure I get enough. Well, today I was feeling especially hungry, so I requested six pieces of ACP. The poor guy gave me this sort of aborted, partial double take, but bless his heart, all he said was, “Six it is.” He somehow managed to not give me a disbelieving look because I was requesting half a pizza, which I was impressed by.
So fast forward, and I’ve gone to sit down at my booth, with the number for my table so they know where to bring all that hot, alfredo-ey goodness clutched in my hand, and The Incident happens. Five to ten minutes later, they finally bring out my 6 pieces of ACP (on two different plates). In the interim while I was waiting for my ACP pizza, I had already managed to eat a breadstick, some pasta, and another small piece of pizza. And yet, when it arrived, I ate all 6 pieces of ACP in about five minutes. Absolutely demolished them. I then got up and had a piece of dessert pizza and two cinnamon rolls.
I ask you this, Dear Readers. What else is a girl to do when someone mistakes her for a man?
My solution– eat like a man. Then go home and take mopey selfies to use when you go cry about it in your blog.

Tonight I will be attending the bachelorette party of one of my incredibly sweet friends from high school, Kady Groh. A couple of weeks ago, I bought myself a new dress that was $23, way more than I usually spend on any one clothes item. But I really wanted to look good, because it’s my first bachelorette party I’m attending as a 21 year old, and we’re going OUTTT. So tonight, I’m going to curl my hair again, and put a flower in it. I’m going to put on my pretty, beaded dress. I’ll pull on my black heeled boots, and BY GOD I’M WEARING EYE MAKEUP.
And if someone mistakes me for a man, I will not be held responsible for my actions.

Миний агаарын даралтыг ашиглан хөвөгч усан онгоцийг дүүрэн могой загас юм,

PS So this is a good one today, I decided to do Mongolian because I felt like I wanted to disappear to Mongolia because I was so embarrassed by The Incident. So on this random site I clicked on that purported to have useful Mongolian phrases, I found the one from above which apparently means, “My hovercraft is full of eels.” That makes about as much sense to me as yesterday did, so it seemed appropriately awesome.

Color Me Rad, Like the Colors of the Wind

Ye gods. I don’t know why I ever make promises to myself, because I always break them. I knew as I was writing it that I never should’ve said in my last post that I planned to write shorter posts and more often. It was essentially like cursing myself to ensure I did not do that.
I didn’t realize just how long it’d been since I’d last blogged. To be pathetically honest, I can’t seem to keep track of the date/day since I finished school and quit working, so I was very surprised to realize it was already May 17.
But, I have an excuse. It’s sports. I’ve been deeply involved in the NBA playoffs, which sadly came to an end last night for my Oklahoma City Thunder. It was a very disappointing, upsetting ending to an otherwise amazing season. But I want to speak no more of it. It has consumed much of my free time lately, and now it’s over, and we’re looking towards next year (of course). My other great love, the English Premier League, is also wrapping up its season, and I’ve been anxiously watching to see if my team, Tottenham, will finish in the top four and make it to the Champions League (which consists of the top four teams from most of the leagues around Europe). It’s not looking great right now, but there’s still a chance.
Oh, sports. I invest so much in you, and yet so often have my heart broken.
But I don’t want you to think I’ve been doing nothing but watching sports. I’ve also been wasting an immense amount of time on the internet. Like, it’s been bad. But, be proud of me. I’ve also been getting significant work done on one of my novels. One of the main things I’ve learned since I started working on books is that writing a romance novel is way more difficult than reading one. Go figure, right?
Now, on to one of the big, exciting things I have done since graduating. You may remember one of my very first posts was about me signing up for the Color Me Rad 5K, which I did last summer and absolutely loved. On May 11, I got the chance to do it again. The weather was ridiculously beautiful (since we were doing it in May this year instead of July like last year), we ran in a later wave so I didn’t have to get up as early, and I was with three of my favorite people in the world. It was, quite simply, a blast. So now, much like I was bombarded with handfuls of colored corn starch, I will bombard you with some of my favorite pictures from the day (all taken by my friend Tiffany).

Here we are after the first two or three color bombing stations. (LtoR) Kasey, Rachel, me, Tiffany.

Here we are after the first two or three color bombing stations. (LtoR) Kasey, Rachel, me, Tiffany. I am noticeably the shortest, as always.

Myself and my friend Kasey showing off our sweet capes we bought to wear during the run (They were once children's aprons from the dollar store).

Myself and my friend Kasey showing off our sweet capes we bought to wear during the run, because we are superheroes (They were once children’s aprons from the dollar store).

We paused during the run to snap this, probably my favorite group picture of the day.

We paused during the run to snap this, probably my favorite group picture of the day.

After the run!

After the run!

We were frantically slapping on temporary tattoos minutes before we were supposed to start running, and with one extra my sister goes, "Hey! Put it on your neck!" And for some reason I thought that was a great idea, so I did.

We were frantically slapping on temporary tattoos minutes before we were supposed to start running, and with one extra left, my sister goes, “Hey! Put it on your neck!” And for some reason I thought that was a great idea, so I did.

Tiffany and I! She had a blue hitler mustache hahaha

Tiffany and I! She had a blue hitler mustache hahaha

My big sister, Rachel, in her snazzy sunglasses afterwards.

My big sister, Rachel, in her snazzy sunglasses afterwards.

Kasey and I. Two year participants in the run now!

Kasey and I. Two year participants in the run now!

It was concluded that I got the most color to the face by far.

It was concluded that I got the most color to the face by far. It’s because I was the most dedicated, just sayin’.

Hahaha I love this, I'm not going to lie.

Hahaha I love this, I’m not going to lie.

So as you should be able to see from the pictures, the Color Me Rad 5K is a fantastic time all around, and you get free sunglasses and a free t-shirt (which is super cute, by the way). A portion of all the proceeds also goes to a local charity, the one for OKC was for cystic fibrosis. You just can’t beat that.
I would also like to point out our amazing team name, Colors of the Wind, thought up by myself and my sister last year when Kasey and I did this for the first time. Be jealous, but YOU CAN’T HAVE OUR NAME OKAY. Also, I painted all of those shirts except Kasey’s. I know you can’t tell what they look like originally because we didn’t take a picture beforehand (silly of us), but they were awesome and I spent hours making them.

Do svidaniya,

PS I went with Russian for goodbye today because I am really wanting to watch some Anastasia. It’s the best when she stomps the magic thing and says that to Rasputin (spoiler alert).











What I Learned When My Dog Woke Me Up at 4AM

Let me just first say that what I learned is that I am not terribly pithy at 4am, definitely not pithy enough to make a list like I did over the lessons I learned when my cat woke me up at 4am. You see, I wrote that post during the day. Currently it’s 3:56am.
Second, my dog didn’t technically wake me up. But he has definitely kept me awake, as he’s been in the house since approximately 7:35pm. Now, I know I talk a lot about my cats, and that’s because they live in the house with me so I’m in near constant contact with them. What you may not know is that I also have four dogs. Two black and two chocolate Labs (best dogs ever, I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY WESTMINSTER), one is a girl and the other three are boys. Riley (black male, 9 years old) and Sadie (chocolate female, 8 years old) are the parents of Johnny (chocolate male, 7 years old) and Cash (black male, 6 years old).


L to R: Sadie, Johnny, Cash, Riley

I adore my dogs, but they are gigantic and not well-behaved, so they stay outside on our acre.
So why is one of my dogs (Johnny) inside and keeping me up at four in the morning? Well currently it’s because Johnny won’t stop farting, and he is the stinkiest ever. But he’s been inside all evening because Cash ripped off the bottom of his ear. (NOTE: DO NOT CONTINUE READING IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH, REPEAT, DO NOT!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED AND I ABDICATE ALL FURTHER RESPONSIBILITY!!!!!)
Now, we used to have problems with our dogs fighting before we got Sadie spayed two or three years so, but we really haven’t since. I was supposed to have an indoor game tonight at 7:25, and I was really looking forward to playing and NOT almost breaking my nose. About thirty minutes before it was time to leave, I went outside to feed the dogs. Everything was fine, I petted them, threw their toys for them a couple times, and then closed the gate to the portion of the yard that we keep them in. I turned to walk away, and suddenly Johnny and Cash are trying to kill each other.
I’ve been around my dogs a few times when this has happened, and let me tell you, it never gets less gut-wrenchingly terrifying. Let me just go ahead and state that they never ever have threatened me in any way, in any situation; when they fight it’s more like you cease to exist to them and nothing you say or do will get through. I turned and ran to turn on our garden hose to spray them, one of the only things that seems to work, but by the time I got back over to them they’d stopped fighting.
I was spitting mad, mostly due to terror, and I blasted Cash with the hose. Johnny, the Labrador who is inexplicably terrified of water, ran behind our shed and didn’t come out for a few minutes. I was so upset I just stood there and yelled at them (sooo effective). When Johnny suddenly appeared, I realized his face was covered in blood. I freaked out naturally, and coaxed him towards the fence. He was pouring blood, but I couldn’t tell where from exactly, so I ran to our gate to let him into our other yard.
Unfortunately, the idiot was so traumatized by this point that he didn’t want to come through the gate, resulting in the other three trying to wedge their way through while I yelled some more. I was in a state of panic by this point, because Johnny is basically gushing blood everywhere, and it was then I finally realized that the entire bottom tip of his ear was gone. Completely, utterly ripped off. I amost had a heart attack, and I guess some of my increased urgency finally got through to Johnny because he finally came through the gate. I rushed him onto our back porch and started screaming for my mom to bring a towel. Johnny is going half mad with both excitement and anxiety, and every time he moved his head (which was constantly), he was slinging blood everywhere. By the time my mom got me a towel, there was blood all over my clothes.
I sat on the porch with that dog for thirty minutes trying to hold a towel around his ear. The problem was every time he finally stopped bleeding, he would shake his head suddenly, and his ear would start pouring blood again. My back porch looks like the legitimate crime scene of a particularly violent murder. At one point (possibly one of the lowest points in my life), Johnny shook his head unexpectedly, and I got dog blood in my mouth. Dog blood. In. My. MOUTH.
I ask you, Readers, is this what post college life is always like? Doesn’t it usually take just a little bit longer to hit such a horrible low for most graduates? By the time I went in the house, I looked like I had freckles. I have no real freckles, Readers. What I did have was blood all over my face, neck, and exposed skin. 
We let him in, of course, to the utter terror of Finn, who has not come out of the bedroom, and to the howling fury of Boo, who starts hissing and growling if he sees Johnny move. We had to cover the floor with towels and blankets because Johnny was still dripping blood. Somehow, like a last bit of salt to rub in the wound, he got blood on my pillow. I had to change the bandage on his ear three or four times tonight, so I keep having to wash random smears of blood off me. I’ve also taken him out twice, which normally wouldn’t be a big deal in May in Oklahoma, but our bipolar state has now decided that it should be ridiculously cold in May, so that means I am too when I take my dog out to try and get him to pee.
I missed the indoor game I’d been so looking forward to, in case you were wondering. Johnny finally settled down a few hours ago, so I then proceeded to watch every single episode of Say Yes to the Dress that was On Demand, and I’m not even ashamed. I kept crying, too, especially on this episode about this really nice girl whose cancer came out of remission. Stuff like that should be illegal when it’s that time of the month, that’s all I’m saying.
So suffice it to say, it’s been a very eventful, exhausting evening. There’s been an unusually high amount of blood in my life lately what with the near broken nose and the broken dog ear, and I’m really hoping this is not becoming a trend because heaven only knows what will be next (I almost killed my friend Richie and I driving the wrong way down a street last night, so I’m probably lucky we didn’t wreck and bleed to death). It’s been a bloody awful week, and I’m worn out and more than ready to go to sleep. Unfortunately, I think the most important lesson I learned tonight is that I really shouldn’t give Johnny part of a bean burrito and then let him sleep on the floor next to me.


PS Exhaustion is a universal language.

The Weekend Where I Thought I Broke My Nose and Then Was Almost Eaten By Termites

Hello, Dear Readers.
I’ve had an interesting past few days, and I’d like to share them with you.
But first, something I’d like to address. You might notice that I have changed the theme of my page. I was reading back over some of my posts, and the first thing I realized is that my font was really small and really difficult to read. So I decided to find a new theme layout, and fell in love with this one. It’s cleaner, bigger, and much easier to read. Burgundy also happens to be my favorite color, so it really seemed ideal. It also just felt right to revamp the blog, just as I’m revamping my life after graduating college. It’s a good time for changes, I think. The second thing I noticed is that I have a tendency to write soooo much in each post. That’s not exactly news to me, because I’ve always had a problem of writing way too much. Any time I had to write essays in school, I always struggled to keep it under the word count and always had to go back and take out chunks. I recently read an article about blogging talking about how important readability is for success, including layout and conciseness of your writing. The author pointed out that it’s one thing to write a long post when you have a big, loyal following, but for aspiring bloggers it’s important to draw readers in by not overwhelming them. So from now on, I’m going to try and write shorter posts, but more often. Also, I’m going to try and add more pictures, because pictures are fun. So with that in mind, I will attempt a brief sketch of the eventful past few days I’ve had.
On Saturday I had an indoor soccer game. Things started out great; we were winning, scoring goals left and right. I even scored a goal, so I was pretty excited. And then, the other team scored. And scored again. And then scored again. Suddenly, they couldn’t stop scoring and we couldn’t score at all. Time starts winding down, the other team went ahead, and a game we’d been winning the majority of the time was suddenly becoming an opportunity to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
Now, just a note, I generally am pretty laid back when I play indoor. After all, it’s just something I do for fun that allows me to keep playing the sport I love without any pressure. In keeping with that attitude, I’m not going to go into tackles incredibly hard or throw my body around or generally put myself into situations where I could get hurt. I sprained my knee a few years ago doing that (I didn’t even know you could sprain your knee until I did so) and since then I’ve tried to take it easier and not put myself at risk. It’s just unnecessary.
Okay, back to the game. So imagine the situation– we were down after leading most of the game, nothing was going right, and it seemed like out of nowhere, time was almost up and there was no way for us to come back. When I used to play soccer, in situations like that, when times got desperate, I would get very angry and very serious, and I would start running around trying to tackle the ball away from anyone on the other team who had it.

Actual picture evidence.

Always with a violently angry look on my face.

In my indoor game on Saturday, I found that place again. Something happened and the ball got kicked up into the air. It was what we call a 50/50 ball, in that both teams had an equal chance of winning it. I saw a girl from the other team tensing to jump up to head it, and suddenly I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I decided to go up for the header, too.
Now, I am 5 feet, 2 inches. Well, technically it’s only 1 and 3/4 inches, but I round to 2 because that just sounds ridiculous. I rarely, if ever, go for headers, especially against someone else.

This is how I usually react to heading opportunities-- like a turtle retracting into my own shell.

This is how I usually react to heading opportunities– like a turtle retracting into my own shell.

It’s pretty much inevitable that they are going to be taller and will win the header by default. But for some reason, in my angry, frustrated rage, I thought I could win a header from a girl who was probably half a foot taller than me. It was just going to be glorious; I was going to fly through the air, win the ball, and turn around and somehow score, to the awe of every person in the arena. It was going to be magnificent:

Like this.

Like this.

So I jumped.
I don’t know what happened in the approximately 1-2 seconds that process took (it was nothing like in that picture, though). I only regained awareness when I was leaned over with my hands on my knees, nose throbbing, seeing the other girl laying on the ground nearby. I hear one of my teammates say, “Sara, your nose is bleeding,” and I realize that I’m dripping blood on the field. I hadn’t had a bloody nose since I was 8, so I was a little surprised to discover I was having one.   I quickly cupped my hand under my nose and dazedly started walking towards the box. The adrenaline was such that I couldn’t really feel much, and I was simply busy being proud of myself for going for a header, and then for not falling down after it went horribly wrong. Apparently, we both went for the header and missed. I ended up hitting my nose on her head.

Probably similar to this, except with a larger height disparity.

Probably similar to this, except with a larger height disparity.

A few minutes later, as I stood in the bathroom watching my blood run down the sink, adrenaline started wearing off and terrible pain kicked in. We were afraid I’d broken my nose, which was swollen and throbbing. Everyone was very concerned, and I was secretly impressed with myself and looking forward to being able to say, sounding all tough and cool, “Yeah, I broke my nose one time.” You see, I’d never broken any bones at all, and I thought my nose was going to be a pretty badass first one to recount. Sadly when I went to the doctor, he told me it was probably just a nasal contusion (aka a really bad bruise) on the bridge of my nose. My hopes were dashed, and all I had to show for it was an incredibly sore nose and a strange problem where I suddenly caught some kind of sneezing disease. It was very inconvenient, and very painful.
The next day we went out of town for my dad’s birthday, which was on Monday. The hotel we stayed at was the site of the next unusual incident I experienced. I was laying in bed Sunday night, and I noticed that there was a bug in my bed. I didn’t think much of it, because the motel was built like old style ones where there’s only one floor and  you just park in front of your door. I figured it’d just flew in at some point when someone was coming through the door. The next morning, in my stupor, I woke up and there was another bug on my pillow. I brushed it off, and went back to sleep. A few minutes later, I felt something crawling in my hair. I sat up, concerned now, and realized there were four or five bugs in my bed. I got out of bed, truly alarmed, and we came to realize that there was a termite infestation in one of the corners of our room’s ceiling (the one right above my bed, of course). Absolutely horrified, we got our stuff together as fast as we could so we could leave. Eventually, my bed looked like this:

All those little black spots... termites.

All those little black spots… termites.

Turns out that no one was supposed to be put in our room and that they had planned to fumigate it the next day. The people were super apologetic and refunded everything, as well as giving us a free night’s stay, so that was nice at least. I’m not particularly squeamish about bugs, except spiders, but it’s going to take me awhile to get over the feel of waking up with termites in my hair. My scalp is itching right now, in fact, so I’m going to wrap it up.
I don’t think I did a good job being concise, so I apologize. But I promise I’ll try better next time!


PS According to Google Translate, I just said goodbye in Portuguese, which is the official language of Brazil. In case you didn’t know, that is where the upcoming World Cup will be, so I thought it appropriate for my post about almost breaking my nose playing soccer.