I attended a Mary Kay holiday meeting.

Not the kind that takes place in someone’s home with friends or women you vaguely know pushing their lip glosses and hand moisturizers. Those are bad enough. But this was a whole different animal.

It started when my friend Becky asked if I wanted to go to a Mary Kay thing where you learn about color and get a free lip gloss. Sounds kind of fun, right? I asked where it was taking place and she said the Holiday Inn down the street. That should have been my first clue. I didn’t have shit else to do so I agreed to go.

We pulled up at the Holiday Inn at 7 p.m. and walked down a corridor until we reached a table manned by two middle aged women who were entirely too perky. They gave us name tags and we were ushered into the meeting room. Becky and I sat down next to her friend that had invited us there. After a few minutes of chatting a woman with a high pitched voice and a red apron yelled at everyone in the full room to pipe down.

She immediately launched into her welcome spiel in which she equated Mary Kay to a sorority for adults. I should have bolted for the door at that very moment. She then announced that there was lots of recognition to be given that night. She asked the women who had sold $100 or more that week to stand up and then told the women who had sold $200 or more to remain standing and so forth until she reached $800.

Of course we were encouraged to clap each time and by the time the final woman was left standing the whole room was in a frenzy. I’ve never seen grown women act this way in real life. Jumping up and down and borderline crying. It was like an Oprah’s Favorite Things episode.

After the hour of recognition was over we had a short break. I wanted to grab Becky and make a run for it but I kept my composure. Every time she would glance over at me I would make a face and we’d both start laughing.

After the break it was time for the main event. The displays of makeup, skin care items, perfumes and holiday shit. The head Klansman asked one of the women in the back of the room, “Mary Beth Ann, why don’t you start by talking about our Mary Kay fragrances?” And sweet Jesus, was Mary Beth Ann excited. She ran through the whole line and then turned the show over to another woman who discussed the skin care products and so forth.

We were then given a 15 minute break to test the products during which I just watched Becky try on different eye shadows. At one point the head Klansman came over to me and asked if I would like to try any of the products. As I tried my best to politely smile and disguise the fact that I was counting her spackled-over crows feet, I shook my head and said, “No thanks, just looking.”

Then came my favorite part of the night. The time when one of the junior Klansmen was brought to the front of the room to “Share the Mary Kay Opportunity.” She passed out a slip of pink paper to each of the guests and asked us to take notes. Take notes? Is she fucking out of her mind?! When Becky looked at me I pretended to slit my wrists and we both started silently laughing again. I had to cover my face with my hand to keep from being a complete asshole.

The whole thing was extremely cultish. I was waiting for them to bring out the Kool-Aid, but it never happened. I avoided the coffee just to be on the safe side.

You also tend to learn the most random, useless crap and then shit it back out on several media platforms to share with others who probably also find incredibly useless. For example did you know that yesterday was in fact “Clean Your Refrigerator Day” (Janie, if you’re reading this, I totally used this info on my Facebook accounts, so don’t get mad) as well as “America Recycles Day”? It’s true.

Fortunately I’ve gotten to a good place where I’m on schedule with my work and not having to work 12 hour days like I have been the past few weeks. For some reason October just became Slacktober for me and then I was scrambling to reach my goal by the end of the month. At one point, I was so stressed out that one of my coworkers sent me this:

Then a kickass trip to Savannah happened the first week in November which was much needed. Good friends and strong drinks were right on point. I also rekindled my love with Bloody Marys at Molly MacPhersons at about three thirty in the afternoon on Friday.

Fuck it, throw a shrimp on there too.

I’ve heard that some places are making these with bacon flavored vodka now? Haven’t tried it, but I’m pretty sure that it would be delicious. The thing that really set the Bloody Mary at Molly’s off was a dash of A1 steak sauce. I like my Bloody’s to drink like a damn meal.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Things have certainly changed since week one in Atlanta. Not everything holds the rosy glow that Decatur held for me that first week here. For example, when I became full time at work I also got insurance which was awesome because it meant I could finally go to the dentist. Then I found out I had to get a root canal: not awesome.

Holy shit.

I’m really glad I didn’t see this illustration before I went in for the procedure or else I probably would have just let my tooth rot out of my head. Before the root canal I was in so much pain that I was seriously contemplating the old ice-skate-and-massive-rock method. If it worked for Tom Hanks it could work for me, right? The thing about root canals is that they are scary as hell, but when they are over the relief is almost instant.

So that was a fun little adventure. Atlanta has been treating me pretty well otherwise. I’ve been making more and more friends and getting out to explore the city when I can. The dirtiness of Little Five really appeals to me for some reason and then on the other end of the spectrum I also like the little downtown Norcross area. There’s a restaurant there creatively named Mojitos that has what I’m almost certain are the best fucking Mojitos on the planet.

Halloween was fun too. You’ll never guess who I dressed up as:

Butter, anyone?

Some people got it, some didn’t. The only thing that mattered is that my wig looked kickass under the black light.

Looking forward to the Thanksgiving break next week, definitely. Ready to go home and see some close friends I haven’t seen in a long while.

Until next time.

Those who know me know of my long-standing fear and loathing of the she-devil that is Paula Deen.

And now she has surpassed the world of food and is moving on to home furnishings. We all knew it was a matter of time before she spread her evil wings. The website for her new business venture, simply called pauladeenmattress.com looks a little something like this:

Mattress in the yard: now that's "Suthern Livin'".

I envision her flopping onto the Serta Ultra Cushion Top mattress, and before she can make some trademark comment about sleeping on butter, the mattress accidentally floats out to sea. She falls off the mattress and once the salt water touches her skin, she reverts back to her natural form:

• Winter: “Jesus fuck, it’s cold outside!” -52 degrees.
• Spring: “Hey, it’s still pretty chilly, I think I’ll wear a sweater today” and by 11 a.m. you’re sweating and/or working with some righteous B.O.
• Summer: Pit stains and ball sweat.
• Fall: Certainly nothing “crisp” about fall in Florida. Picture the exact opposite of that.

The week before my 24th birthday I went home to pick up my brother Paul to bring him to Atlanta so that we could make the drive up to our grandparents house in North Carolina together the following weekend. On the drive up we took in the beautiful sunset over the hills of north Georgia.

I had Paul take this picture through my windshield, so it didn’t come out as well as I’d have wanted.

My camera doesn’t do it justice, but this was really pretty too.

Once we got into the mountains, the weather cooled off significantly. We spent the next day out on  Lake Nantahala on a pontoon boat that could precariously hold eight people. We had nine and an 85 pound dog.

Paul and the tubes on the pontoon boat.

The next day was my birthday and I woke to find Aunt Lin in the kitchen gingerly removing my yellow birthday cake from its perfectly good pan. She cut the dilapidated cake in half and stacked one half on top of the other. Then she began icing this monstrosity with chocolate frosting. This is what is came out looking like:

We decided that it was a battle-worn, weather-beaten army tank and needed a missile launcher in the front of it.

Then, of course, the only logical step was to light the missile launcher on fire.

All in all, it was a good birthday: family, the mountains and a missile-launching birthday cake.

I bought it the first week I moved to Atlanta at an independent bookstore called Blue Elephant Book Shop in downtown Decatur.  I was browsing the memoir/biography section when the one-word title caught my eye. I read the back and then flipped open to the Table of Contents where I began skimming the chapter titles. When I read titles like “Lost in the Golden State”, “Bent Bender”, “The Grinning Skull”, “The Nervous Hospital”, and “Dysfunctional Family Sweepstakes”, I was sold. It had been so long since I’d actually bought a book, I felt naughty, like I was purchasing contraband.

Looking at her author photograph, I knew that this woman had some shit to say. Deep, dark secrets that were yearning to be read and released.

Mary Karr

“Lit” is the story of Mary Karr’s life from a fucked up childhood to a wandering post high school drug haze to getting drunk and getting sober, becoming a mother by dealing with her own mother, divorce and learning to write by learning to live.  Karr went from not believing at all and laughing at even the prospect of God, to getting down on her knees and praying.

It was so interesting to read about her journey to finding her inner spiritualism. But make no mistake, this book is no “Eat, Pray, Love”. In fact Karr refers to Elizabeth Gilbert’s book as “Eat, Pray, Fuck”. Ha!

At one point Karr glimpses a scene from her childhood when her mother, in a drunken rage, is standing over her and her sister with a butcher knife planning to kill them. The mother’s later justification is that if she killed her two daughters, then they’d be safe from anyone ever hurting them.

Karr’s journey through severe alcoholism sends her to a “nervous breakthrough” leading her to a stay in the “Mental Marriott” where she begins to learn that life is worth living.

Mary Karr’s writing is poignant and searing and at times dark and hilarious. I laughed out loud many times while reading this book. Karr is self-deprecating to say the least.

“Lit” is not only the perfect book for anyone who has suffered through alcoholism, knows someone who has, or has generally struggled with a crazy family, but also anyone who enjoys excellent writing with nary a boring sentence.

This book receives a solid A.

Here is a short video with Mary Karr’s commentary on “Lit”.

That said, there is one thing that I recently discovered that looks kind of hilarious and it’s called Broetry.

“Broetry” is a collection of poems for dudes written by Brian McGackin that details his observations on life from high school through college and on to a quarter life crisis.

Xbox 360, frozen pizza, Star Wars conventions, cleaning George Foreman grills, ninja warriors, and the cinematic wonder that is Bruce Willis are just a few of the topics discussed in Broetry. Some of the poem titles include “Stopping by Wawa on a Snowy Evening” and “Ode to that Girl I Dated For, Like, a Month Sophomore Year”.

This would make a great gift for a boyfriend or brother. Broetry will be released July 5, but you can preorder it on Amazon today. Hell, order me a copy while you’re at it!

"You can hang out with all the boys . . ."

I went on Tuesday evening around 6:30 and ended up staying until they closed at 10 p.m.! Now, I know what some of you might be asking yourselves, “is Sarah doing drugs? No one likes working out that much!” And my answer to that is no, I wasn’t on some crazy Ephedra cocktail (this isn’t 2003) I was simply enjoying myself. How is that possible? One word: volleyball.

After wandering aimlessly around the gym for a few minutes and doing some elliptical, I decided to see what classes were being offered that night. There were mad amounts of classes being offered in the aerobics rooms, but when I looked at the gym schedule and saw “Volleyball 7:30 p.m.” — Look at the clock, 7:26 p.m. –Shit! I wonder if there is still time to sign up?

I went over to the mildly  mentally handicapped man at the front desk and asked. I was in luck, you didn’t even have to sign up. So I made my way to the west gym where a few younger girls were starting to warm up.

[A brief background on volleyball and myself:

I tried out for volleyball in high school and having never really played before, making not the Freshmen team, but the JV team, I was pretty stoked. Because I didn't play club like a lot of the Varsity girls, I didn't make Varsity Sophomore year and was stuck playing JV again. There was way too much drama on the team, so I ended up quitting. But I still totally love the game, obviously.]

After warming up for an hour and a half (a little excessive? I thought so too), we finally started playing. It was so nice playing with people who know how to play the game (i.e. making use of the setter, rotating correctly, etc.) it was fantastic! It’s the little things in life, I guess.

But fuck all that, here’s the real reason I like volleyball: the faces . . .

and

and my personal favorite

There are tons of other activities at the facility, like a pool, gymnastics area, weight machines, cardio machines, a track, and lots of group exercise classes.

So that’s about it. Oh and I found this, too:

Sacrilegious AND hilarious. My two favorites.

On Monday I started a paid internship at

in Lawrenceville, Ga.

where I write blog posts and Facebook status updates for different clients. Sounds like something I’d be into right? Um, yeah.

I’m staying in Decatur with my friend Jessica a.k.a. Lady J

until I can find my own place. I am in love with several things around her apartment. I like to call these things: Reasons why Jessica is Awesome.

Reason #1

Reason #2

This one is the wallpaper on my phone, I liked it so much.

Reason #3

And those are just a few.

Here is the view from Jessica’s front door

The neighborhood is so safe, you can leave your door open (open, not unlocked) all day long.

My schedule is pretty sweet, I work from 8 a.m. – 4:30 p.m. Monday through Friday and I’m off on Wednesdays. This Wednesday I decided to go for a walk around downtown Decatur and check out some of the cool shops. After getting lost for a while, I finally found the Blue Elephant Book Shop where I bought

[Book review soon to come.]

Those people who know me know that I had to check out the local record store immediately. So I meandered over to Decatur CD on West Ponce De Leon Ave

where I was actually pretty disappointed because there wasn’t much in the way of used records. Everything was mostly new and cost around $25-26.

My heaven is analog.

I like David Byrne just as much as the next person, but I can’t justify paying $25.98 for an album that I could easily find used for a few bucks. Such is the plight of the record collector.

They did have a stellar CD collection, though. Hence the name, I guess.

I am looking forward to this weekend, though. My kickass friend Penny is talking me on a tour/pub crawl through Little 5 Points and East Atlanta where there is a store called Criminal Records. Sounds awesome, right? I can’t wait.

]]> http://friedsnickers.wordpress.com/2011/05/19/my-life-in-atlanta-week-one/feed/ 2 Sarah DigitalSherpa_Logo_New_Legs1-small lawrenceville_map Lady J dsc00452 DSC00451 Los Luchadores The Patio Lit Decatur CD Decatur CD http://friedsnickers.wordpress.com/2011/04/19/new-favorite-tv-show-portlandia/ http://friedsnickers.wordpress.com/2011/04/19/new-favorite-tv-show-portlandia/#comments Wed, 20 Apr 2011 02:42:35 +0000 Sarah http://friedsnickers.wordpress.com/?p=462 ]]> This is it.

Thanks to a recommendation from my Aunt Ellen, I’ve found my new favorite TV show:

An Independent Film Channel original series from executive producer Lorne Michaels, Portlandia is a hilarious satire about all things Portland, Oregon. The show’s stars, Carrie Brownstein and SNL’s Fred Armisen, are a fantastically comedic duo.

Here is the very first scene:

The wheat-germy, hippie-ish environs of Portland are filled with vegans, bicycling hipsters, and feminists and Portlandia embraces and completely makes fun of them at the same time.

Portlandia is sketch comedy at its finest. In the first episode, there is a bit about the Sherlock Homies, an adult Hide-and-Seek team that meets for tournaments in the public library.

In episode two, there is a couple whose answer to every craft need is to “put a bird on it!” The couple travels to a local gift shop and decides to jazz up bland tote bags, pillows and teapots by putting bird cutouts on them. (I know that anyone who’s ever been inside ShopSCAD in Savannah will totally identify with this sketch). Then, somehow, a real bird–or should I say a hawk–gets inside the shop and fucking destroys everything; all the while the couple screams things like “EW!” and “I’M ALLERGIC!”

Portlandia has a slew of guest stars such as Jason Sudeikis, Sarah MacLachlan and Heather Graham and my personal favorite, Steve Buscemi.

I also found it really cool that the actual mayor of Portland, Sam Adams (actual name), appeared on the show as the assistant to the fictional mayor.

The worst part about the show? There are only six episodes in the first season. Fortunately a second season of 10 episodes is scheduled to air in January 2012.

If, like me, you do not get the IFC channel because you are broke, you can watch episodes of Portlandia online.

Who would have thought that this man would be able to push his wife, punch a few cars, and then dare the cops to arrest him? Certainly not me.

All of these antics occurred this past Saturday, April 16, 2011 in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Apparently the physical abuse was preceded by a violent argument with his wife, Alice Kim. This is just speculation on my part, but I’d bet money that a “Ghost Rider” joke was probably the catalyst.

Even Nicolas Cage's Hair is Going Bankrupt

He was arrested on charges of domestic abuse battery and disturbing the peace and who bailed him out? None other than Dog the Bounty Hunter.

Despite being one of the highest paid actors in Hollywood, Nic Cage has admitted to owing the IRS more than $14 million. While he blames his managers, they point to his lavish spending as being at fault. Among obvious purchases like jewelry, cars, castles, and a Caribbean island, Cage is also the proud owner of a dinosaur skull (on which he outbid Leonardo DiCaprio).

It would take more time to list the Nicolas Cage movies that have sucked giant balls than to list the ones I liked so I will do the latter:

• Matchstick Men (2003)
• Leaving Las Vegas (1995)
• Moonstruck (1987)
• Raising Arizona (1987)

Although “Matchstick Men” and “Leaving Las Vegas” were both pretty decent movies, I’d have to say that 1987 was by far Cage’s best year for acting.

P.S.

Look what I found: