Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Where did you go?

Here is where I went!! Follow me....


Monday, October 10, 2011

I Don't Have to Apologize to You!

Check back November 1st

I have a big surprise coming...

Thursday, October 6, 2011

A Serious Epidemic in Women’s Health

Have you ever stumbled around awkwardly in you high heels thinking you look sexy?

Have you ever tripped over nothing at all?

Does your footwear make you feel as though you should wear a tiny skirt that you have no business wearing at your age?

If you relate too well to any of these descriptions, you may be suffering from Foolish Footwear Syndrome (FFS)

Other symptoms include

* Rolling your ankles
* Shuffling your feet
* Adding 4 ridiculous inches to your height
* Shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to find comfort
* Feelings of grandeur
* Back ache
* Diminished stamina walking long distances
* Booty dancing

Its easy to laugh, but this is a serious problem.

Thousands of girls traipse out every Friday and Saturday night with a false sense of pride in a skill they have not yet mastered.

But there is help to be had. For a limited time I am offering my personal, one on one counseling. At the low, low cost of airfare, I will personally come punch you in the face.*

However, many women do not need my special one on one attention, and for them, I offer my free, snarky advice. (My advice is always free and ALWAYS snarky.)

First: You probably don't know this, but your shoes are too big. If you wear a size 8 sneaker, then you need a size 7 1/2 heel. Heels need to be tight. You are stumbling because your feet are sliding around in your shoe. If that half size smaller is uncomfortable, then wear sneakers because heels ARE uncomfortable if you wear them right. And you need to wear them right, because of the 'looking like a fool problem' we've already discussed.

Second: Your heels are too tall. I know you want to add 4 inches to your height but don't. Just don't. Seriously, it's worth it to give up the extra inch so that you can walk properly.

Third: Heel-toe, Heel-toe. Not the other way around. Don't be afraid to put weight on the heel or else you'll bend your knees awkwardly.

Fourth: Don't bend your knees awkwardly. For instructions on how to fix this look above.

Fifth: Stand up straight and walk with your core. (Actually, this is good advice all the time)

If you or someone you know suffers from FFS, it's not too late, we can still help.

Please, pass this along to any of your friends who suffer from FFS. Together we can put an end to the late night foolishness.

*I cannot guarantee this claim will be a one time cure, but it SURE will make me feel better

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

NUNYA!! You Know, Nun-Ya Business... Or... What to Say When People Ask Innapropriate Questions

Babysitting puts me in this weird position where I’m forced to hang out with the other sitter at play date. Sometimes this is just fine and I’ve met some cool girls while our seven year old monkeys run around the park together. However, sometimes this is awful and I make painful chit chat while praying someone will fall from the swings and we'll have to rush home.

It’s kind of like having to hang out with the girlfriends of your boyfriend's friends. You pray his friends will date super cool chicks who you can go shopping with outside of the double date dynamic but instead you're stuck with a lame snob of a bore who hasn't learned how to walk in her heels.

On one particular play date from hell, asI was delighted that my little monkey child was wearing herself out playing Duck, Duck, Goose, I was forced to run the small talk marathon with Ms. Asks Too Many Personal Questions. Which got me thinking; why do people think its ok to asks intimate details after having only known someone for 12 seconds?

After hearing about my boyfriend from the overly chatty monkey herself and deducing that I wasn't married, Ms. ATMPQ says, "So, when are you getting married?"

Back the truck up woman.

Not only do I not know this answer myself, but who does she think she is asking such a personal question. If it was something I wanted her to know I’d offer the information myself.

I brushed it off by saying, "Oh, you know, when I’m bored of being happy." Which was sufficient to change the subject but also entirely misleading. I don’t feel this way about marriage at all, and I felt uncomfortable giving her the impression that I was anti-marriage, but what could I do? 

Over the years I have been ask many inappropriate questions to which I really wanted to respond by saying, "Nun yo damn business!"

This is hardly appropriate for me to say, no matter how much I want to, so I have thought of and saved up a little army of witty remarks to fire back with. I will share them with you and please, feel free to ues any of these if you need them for your own defenses.

After high school, when I had to put off going to college for a semester because I couldn’t afford it, people felt they should put pressure on me for not jumping to it right away. When they asked snootily why I wasn’t going right to college, I solemnly told them I only had 6 months to live and wanted to experience life while I could. Had this been real information it obviously would have been way more personal than saying I was too poor to go, but that didn't really cross my mind at the time.

Then when I was married the first time people started getting impatient for me to have kids. I’m not sure why it was so important to strangers that I have babies, I wasn’t in any sort of hurry, so when they asked me when I was going to have kids, I replied, "We're still waiting to see if the marriage will work out." It shut them right up, but I do feel a little bad that this turned out to be more true than I intended... Oops

And finally, when I got divorced, the boldest of the intrusive dared to ask why. This is where I drew the line in my witty self-preserving sand and said, "That is hardly appropriate to ask." A little hostile, but sometimes you have to put people in their place.

Wouldn't it be nice for people to learn what is appropriate to ask and what isn’t? But as long as there are intriguing things happening in my life there will always be nosy people wanting to know about it. There isn’t much to do but smile, try to keep the conversation light and  think of a clever retort.

As I am moving further away from the developing milestones of my 20’s, I’d like to think that my days of having to deal with intrusive strangers are over, but seeing as how I’m not married, I don’t have children and I haven’t even gone to grad school, people will continue to ask invasive questions. I am looking for more ammo to stockpile in my arsenal. Please, share with me your go-to lines to ward off the snooptastic so that I can keep my wits about me.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

My Roommate From Hell

One runs a great risk when placing a Craig’s List ad for a roommate. The bizarre collection of socially awkward, hygienically challenged, porcelain figurine collecting, rejects that come by asking absurd questions about bathroom habits is rather frightening.

When I was looking for a roommate I only showed my place to 3 people before it was reported for discriminatory content because I said that straight men weren’t welcome, whatever. Luckily only 1 of the prospective roommates was a creepy old dude. The other two were lovely young ladies like myself. I picked one and she has turned out splendidly. 

My roommate, who we’ll call Monika for the purpose of my blog, is quite delightful and pleasant. She is very clean and respectful of my space. The only slightly annoying thing is her 17 year old, blind as a bat cat Picasso, but even he doesn't bother me that much. In all she has been a pleasure to live with and I'm so lucky to have found her.

I know what you are thinking. You feel tricked into reading my blog because you wanted to hear some horror stories about awful roommates and I’ve just talked about my perfectly pleasant Hungarian, ex-model, does-my-dishes roommate. 

But she is not the first roommate I’ve ever had...

Enter Freak.

I don’t remember her real name. My other roommate at the time, who we’ll call Amber for the purpose of this blog, and I called her Freak. We did it behind her back at first but as she got weirder and weirder we started calling her that to her face. 

*Now, before you go and think we were catty bitches, A) wait until you hear the story and B) we were 20 year old girls, OF COURSE we were catty bitches.*

I’m going to set the tone for my story with a few highlights of some of Freak’s common behaviors...

1) She would eat half a bowl of fruit loops and then put the whole thing in the dishwasher, FRUIT LOOPS AND ALL. 

2) Freak would fall asleep in front of the TV about 5 nights a week. When we explained to her that neither mine nor Amber's dads owned the electric company and we would actually have to pay our bill when it came so could she please stop wasting electricity(!!!!), she cut down to 4 nights a week.

3) She would steal our food. Duh, that’s part of being a roommate, but then she accused us of eating her food AND "TOLD" ON US TO HER DAD. Then he came over and yelled at us about it. Really?!

4) One time I caught her using Amber’s hair brush and curling iron so I called Amber at work and she rushed right home to yell at Freak about hygiene boundaries. This may sound excessively catty but just a few days before Amber found evidence that Freak had been using her loofa in the shower. It was a trend that needed to be stopped

So now that you are aware of the daily things we dealt with from our overly-coddled-by-her-parents-roommate, you’re ready for the story extraordinaire…

One night, Amber shared some dazzling words of wisdom with me. Our conversation was highly informative, for me, but what I didn’t realize was that someone else was gleaning from our discussion. 

Freak must have realized that Amber had some very sound logic and figured she needed to do some maintenance on her own Barbra Bush. 

It couldn’t have been more than a couple hours later that Amber went up to get ready for bed when the silence of the house was shattered by the bellowing sound of,


Now, the upcoming events were not necessarily intended for me to participate in, but you better believe I jumped up from whatever I was doing and rushed to the scene of the… well… I didn’t know what I would see but I was SO excited to be a witness to it!!

There was Amber, standing in the bathroom, shouting at Freak (who I was desperately trying to see around) while pointing at the tub. When I finally shimmied my way into the bathroom I beheld the most horrifying, amazing (in the, I’m-so-amazed-that-you-thought-this-was-ok-to-do, sort of way) and memorable sight. 

Apparently, and all my evidence is circumstantial (accept that she didn’t deny it), but apparently, Freak had taken Amber’s words to heart and decided she should do a vaggy trimming that night... While she was taking a bath… AND THEN SHE DIDN’T LET OUT THE BATHWATER!!!


It was a horrific, cream based, pube soup.


So, after Amber gets through yelling (which was epic and phenomenal and I’m so glad I had front row seats for the event) she tells Freak to clean out the bathtub. We left the room and proceed to bad mouth her from the living room. When Freak moseyed into the kitchen we ran upstairs to check on the finished product. 


*To her credit, that girl had some courage hidden in her 90 pound frame for her to, once again, answer the call and accept her scolding.*

You see, Freak’s simple solution to her hedge clippings fiasco; she just drained the tub and moved on so that she had more time to watch TV and eat a bowl of Fruit Loops. 


The tub was now speckled with her carpet fibers and soap scum.


I mean honestly, how did she think that was ok?

I want to feel bad that she moved out after only living with us for one month but, um, I'm not. She was a creeper who took all of our stuff to her parent’s house because she was “borrowing” it and “forgot” to bring it back.

Good riddance Freak, I hope you finally learned how to function without your Helicopter Parents' constant care. 

--Roommate horror stories are the best, please, please share!! 

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

If Lovin' Big Asses is Wrong, I Don't Want to be Right

In response to my tribute to asses, Ben Atkinson Wrote:  this article (while obviously awesome), needs a follow-up for the dudes who have ladies in this predicament. We need advice on what to say, because we're currently in a "damned if I do and damned if I don't" quandary when that situation (eventually) arises. In other words, "HELP!"

After receiving Ben’s comment, I tried to answer him, but my mind grapes took me in another direction and instead I reflected upon the idiotic things that women do. In fact, I’ve TRIED to write this post for months and continue to write more and more advice for women on how to NOT be ridiculous and overly-sensitive. Maybe I’ll polish some of them up and post them, because they are really snarky and entertaining, but I’m finally going to make myself focus and help Ben out. My advice, while inspired by this comment, is generalizable for all men. You’re welcome. 

Step 1: Find yourself a lovely, non-crazy girl to dote on. These girls are an endangered species but as the lovely Margaret Ruth says All the Healthy, Joyful, Whole People Are All Running Around Dating, Mating and Relating with Each Other. (I cannot believe I just posted two links to a LOVE PSYCHIC, this blog is really sophisticated.) So according to her advice, make sure you are healthy, joyful, and whole and you will find a terrific girl who will allow you to move on to step 2. 

Step 2: Just be nice. That’s all. Do nice things. Say nice things. Treat her nicely and overall be nice. 

Step 3: Be consistent.
*Allow me to give you a crash course on Behavioral Modification*
-If she does things you like; praise her, thank her, and make her aware that you like these things.
-If she does something you don’t like; inform her that you don’t like it and then don’t tolerate her doing that again.
(Hint: This is exactly how you train a new puppy. Girls, this also works in training men)

Step 4: Be diligent. When she watches football with you and she lets you actually WATCH the game without making you try to also listen to a long winded storiesstory about her cat, then, during commercials thank her for letting you watch the game and tell her how happy you are that she is so cool. Then be sure to give her tons of attention until the game starts again. I guarantee she will keep her yapper shut through the rest of the game. 

Step 5: Don’t tolerate insanity in any form. If your lady love is insecure in your relationship (i.e. accusing you of cheating, closely monitoring your whereabouts, or invading your privacy on your phone, computer, etc.) don’t entertain it. Sincerely and sweetly tell her that she is the only girl for you. Tell her that she has nothing to worry about because you love her and no one else. Make her feel safe and secure in that initial conversation, and then never be drawn into the conversation again. Next time she brings it up tell her that you’ve already addressed her concerns and don’t give her the negative attention that she’s seeking. Then later, catch her being good and repeat Step 4.

Step 6: Have a healthy, joyful and whole relationship. (Margaret Ruth is so wise) Now that you are both learning to function in a healthy manor and treat each other wonderfully, you can rest assured that your relationship is open, honest and wonderful. In just 5 easy steps!!

You may be wondering how this answers Ben’s originally posed question. To answer this, let’s go through the steps together. 

1: If you need help finding an amazing girl, I have a plethora of lovely friends who will unwittingly be the victim of a set-up, just shoot send me an email, I’ll play matchmaker.
2: Take her out, make her feel lovely, rope her in with your charms.
3: Figure out what you like and don’t like in your newly developing R word.
4: Compliment her big ol’ derriere and tell her how much you love and adore its magnificence. Praise it up when it’s looking especially awesome; paying special attention to mention its large stature.
5: When she has the audacity to complain or lament her size (as all girls are wont to do) tell her sweetly and sincerely that you think she looks amazing and that as far as her ass is concerned, the bigger the better. Then the next time she brings it up, seeking your approval in a self-pitying manner, don’t tolerate it. She does not get your attention for being pathetic.
6: By this point you have set the precedence so that if she does start to lose the look you love, you are in a place to simply say, “Baby, I love you and I’m excited that you’ve taken up running, but you are losing too much weight and if your fanny shrinks any more we are going to have problems in our R word.”

She has heard you praise her junk so frequently that she will want to do whatever it takes to please you. I guarantee it. 

PS, this works with ANY behavior you want to keep or change. It works on men, women, children, and animals. You can get anyone to do exactly what you want them to do. Why do you think my boyfriend is so perfect?!!

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Irrational Fears

In preparation for Hurricane Irene sweeping through town we were doing the usual; buying too much water, stocking up on wine and condoms and pulling out the extra candles as we got ready to hunker down for the duration of the storm.

After the frenzy of preparation died down and we were lounging easily with our first glass of wine for the night, Dan tells me that his biggest concern about the storm is that we may be without power for a couple of days.

That's reasonable, but I wasn’t terribly concerned, so like the insensitive biddy that I am, asked him why? Was he concerned that the food would spoil? Because at any given point the only thing my fridge has in it is eggs, beer, milk and bread, not a big loss. Was he concerned that it would be dark? Did I mention the extra candles... so what was it?

His reply, "Being without power for several days."

Right... But what else?

"Being without power for several days!!!"

There had to be more... right?

I just didn’t understand, but I let him carry on with his fear of what I could only determine to be fear itself. I supported him outwardly, but mocked him inwardly; until a week later when I was resting easily on the beach and I saw this...

I was minding my own business, relaxing at the beach, when this plane had the audacity to fly by streaming this banner behind it.


Especially when being suspended in air behind a plane!! I was racked with anxious fear. I was scared to unreasonable proportions.


There are many reasons why I COULD be afraid. The banner could become detached from the plane and fall from the sky. It might get caught on something. The banner might even get tangled in a tree and be hard to get out.

Oh, my!!

These sure are unfortunate things to happen, sure, but they aren’t what causes me fear.

I am simply afraid that this banner exists at all.


That's it. That's what I'm afraid of... So, I guess I'll cut Dan a break for his perfectly legitimate  fear. He may have no reason behind being afraid of the power going out, but at least it's something worth worrying about. I have no reason to fear GIANT FLYING PAPER.

I'm not alone in my nonsensery, right? What is the most unreasonable fear you have? Leave me a comment about it, and the person with the worst fear will get a special gift from me! I'll fly a banner past your house that says "You're a Lily-Livered Ninny "

Just kidding, I would never torture you like that

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Learning About Myself Through the Eyes of a Seven Year Old

In case you weren’t aware, quitting your job to become a writer doesn’t pay much. In fact, the total amount I’ve made from writing these last two months is exactly $0.00.

Good times.

I anticipated this salary though... because I’m not a fool... I knew that I wouldn't be able to sell my book right away and I'm probably still a year or more away from publication.

So, I did what any other wanna be author would do in the interim; I got a part time job. Now I can pay my bills yet I still have plenty time to focus on writing.

Approximately 25 hours a week I am a babysitter extraordinaire. 

Believe it. 

I work with three wonderful kids. The two boys are older and don't require as much of my attention so the majority of my time is spent with a spunky 7 year old monkey-child.

I absolutely enjoy this little girl. She makes it a pleasure to go to work, which is why I chose to babysit instead of waiting tables. What I did not anticipate however, is how similar we are. I am learning a lot about myself through this child.

What I've found is that she is helping me to answer the big question everyone asks me.

“What is wrong with you?”

Let's evaluate...

You see, just like my cheeky monkey, I don't like to put my clothes on. Staying in pj's all day is a fine solution to the pants debacle, but I would rather run around in my underwear all day.

Whereas she HATES to take showers, I like the results of them, but I don't want to be bothered with wasting my time for one. I completely sympathize when she tells me she has better things to do than get in the shower. Good Luck Charlie is on for heaven sakes!!

Sometimes, for dinner, all she want to eat is macaroni and cheese and if I try to convince her to eat something healthier she will simply refuse to eat at all. I know she needs to eat, so I eventually cave and make her the coveted mac 'n' cheese. That girl is a genius. 

I have also been known to have dramatic episodes when I don't get my way. We are both a bit too old for this... Maybe I should work on that...

My monkey has a special condition which her mother has deemed, "Hungry Head". I have never related to any sensation more than this. When I'm hungry I get so unbearably grumpy that you might as well get the hell out of my way AND JUST GIVE ME MY MAC AND CHEESE ALREADY!!!

And lastly, like any other seven year old out there, If I become too tired I probably shouldn't have serious conversations because I've lost all ability to be rational. (If I ever had the ability to be rational.)

There you have it. I have finally been able to figure out what's wrong with me after all this time, I'm seven years old.

And don't mess with me when I have Hungry Head, it isn't pretty.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

A Letter to Jesse Tyler Ferguson

Sometimes celebrities are terrific, super-human beings that leave the world in awe (Oprah) some are gorgeous, eye candy that you just want to bone (Hugh Jackman) and some are brilliant entertainers but incredible douche bags (Christian Bale) but then there are those who transcend the realm of celebrity-dom  into the real, wonderful, world of *gasp* human beings.  Every once in a while one of these celebrities will come to light and you think, MAN, I just have to know this person!! You see their body of work, read interviews and watch them being themselves and you think, “Why aren’t we friends?” For me, that is Jesse Tyler Ferguson.

And THIS is what the letter would say if I was ACTUALLY a super-creepy, stalker, weirdo who sent letters to celebrities thinking that would somehow work. I’m not the aforementioned kind of freak, so all I can do is hope that we’ll run into each other while walking our dogs and their leashes will get tangles 101 Dalmatian style and we’ll strike up a friendship from this hilarious encounter. *Just another reason why I need to get a dog.*

Dear Jesse Tyler Ferguson,
I would like to start by saying that I’m a huge fan. But that wouldn’t be true. I’m just a regular sized fan. Huge fans are awkward and a little scary, of which you should probably run away from and make them keep a 500 foot distance. No, I’m just a regular old fan. I watch you on Modern Family and I think you are delightful. I’ve never googled you to find out intimate details about your personal life, but I have IMDB’d you to see if you were in any movies I might like to watch. Incidentally Wonderful World is now in my Netflix queue.
So, I’m a fan, and have been since I saw your shining face on Modern Family three years ago. But it has come to my attention through your recent endeavors that, not only are you delightful as a character, but also as yourself. I feel that we would be great friends. I enjoy your personality and your sense of humor reflects my own.
I’m going to keep this short and to the point because I don’t want you to think I’m weird. Well, shit, I mean I’m totally weird but it’s in the quirky cute way and NOT in the collect your toenail clippings kind of way.
Let’s grab coffee next time you’re in New York
Best regards,
Savannah Lindsay

What do you think? Would you be friends with me after receiving a dazzling letter like this?

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

A Special Education on the Proper Care and Maintenance of Your Lady Bits

I’m throwing out my first ever disclaimer. Maybe you’re thinking that I should have disclaimed posts before now, or after reading this you think a warning was hardly necessary, regardless, I want it stated that I’m making you aware before we begin: We’re talking about vaginas today. (We may talk about penises… Just for fun) You’ve been warned.

It’s no secret that proper gardening is important for everyone, (Not only women, men need to have their run-in with the hedge trimmers as well) so let’s evaluate the why’s and how’s of the situation. 

Why? Because it’s oh so lovely! Having our nether region tidy keeps everything pretty and perky. Proper landscaping is also proven to be hygienically beneficial. And last, it’s deliciously inviting… Just try to tell me I’m wrong…

How? This is where it gets exciting. There are so many options for HOW to do it and HOW the finish product can look. I am going to skip the show and tell portion for designs and you can google vaggy pics yourself but just know that there are shapes and designs. You may want to consider heart shaped, straight line, triangle, and my favorite baby’s buttock. (You can also consider Vajazzle. It’s a thing, google that too)

·         Shaving: I’m not a big fan but will resort to it in a pinch.
o   Pro: It’s free, quick and self-maintained. Also, if kept up on a regular basis is a simple and effective process
o   Con: Razor burn, ingrown hairs and hassle. It also allows your hairs to grow in super thick and bristly. (but that may just be me and my scary backwoods wilderness situation)
·         Waxing: My choice to tackle the Bushiest Beaver.
o   Pro: It lasts a really long time and the hairs grow back less dense. Also, if kept up on a regular basis it is quite painless of a process 
                          *They also get your backside which is rather pleasant to live with and not at all painful to get done.

o   Con: It’s rather pricey to be paying for every 4-6 weeks

I was brought to light about the importance of bikini maintenance from my roommate in college. I had JUST gotten out of the shower and was wrapped in a towel when I decided that flashing her would be funny. Once she recovered from the initial shock she stated that it was about time for me to do a little lawn maintenance. I informed her that I just barely had done so and how much did she expect me to take off?That’s when I got the most useful advice of my entire college experience: 

Trim it like a Peach, not a Plum.

These were words I followed diligently.

You may be saying, “but Savannah, that’s contradictory to what you’ve said here.” 

And you are correct. I followed her advice, until of course, I learned the beauty of waxing it all off for the benefit of, 1) a hairless bum 2) the smooth and sexy feeling of it, and, naturally, 3) oral sex. It also became slowly more popular and to have a Brazilian. 

The more popular it became, the more enticed I was to get one. I started out just getting my bikini area done so that swimsuit season could pass by effortlessly, but slowly I wanted more and more hair to disappear. I became hooked and gradually moved towards complete hairlessness. 

This was a lot of shocking panty talk and I hope no one is terribly traumatized but I’m afraid I just can’t leave it here. Although I’m sure my male readers have learned a lot (maybe more than they wanted to) about the female hair dilemma, I also have a little bit to say to them directly.

There is nothing wrong with getting your own Back, Crack, and Sack waxing for the exact same reasons! Enjoy. 

*I hope I didn’t frighten away any readers. I love you all and my next post will be something about kittens or chastity*

Thursday, September 8, 2011

8 Reason Why I Don’t Want a New Boyfriend

So my boyfriend, who we’ll call Dan for the purpose of this blog, is quite the find. It takes a special person who can tolerate my level of crazy, but who is also not so intensely dull that I want to stab myself in the ankle with a carrot. Finding someone who meets these two requirements is remarkably hard. Now that I’ve found someone, I have to do all that I can to fool him into thinking that I am also a catch. It’s hard work trying to keep all the crazy inside.

The following are reasons I came up with during an especially nutso moment (2:00am to be precise) as to why I will do all I can to keep him around.

8. I’ve said it before, I’m a grandma. I don't like change and I don’t like getting used to new things. So, in this regard I'm just lazy but that's as good a reason as any to hang on to the guy, right?

7.  I eat a lot. A LOT. I don’t like to eat more than other people because I'm a girl, of course. I had a boyfriend once who ate like a little bird and would never order his own ice cream and say that he would just "share some of mine". On no you don't buddy, get your own. Dan can eat me under the table any day, and often win money doing it.

6. I like to cuddle. But let’s be serious, sleeping time is sleeping time and you need to be in your own space while I’m in mine and don’t even think about letting your feet creep onto my side of the bed because I will hit you “in my sleep” if you touch my feet. Dan hasn't gotten the hang of keeping his feet on his own damn side of the bed (yet) but let's face it, he's so cute I let it slide. 

5. You may not notice because of my stunning good looks or my sparkling personality, and I do the best I can to be witty and charming to distract you, but I am incredibly awkward. My social skills rival Dungeons and Dragons nerds. I'm still not sure how I got a second date with Dan after my awkward overly-enthusiastic-hug-goodbye-then-mad-dash-for-the-subway, but he seems to find my social inadequacies endearing. Win for me.

4. I know everything. Everything. (Oh, and I’m always right). It’s exhausting to be so knowledgeable all of the time. I definitely have to date smart men… or at least men who think they know as much as I think I know. Either Dan is terribly convincing of the knowledge that he makes up on the spot, or he really is a super genius, but he is ALWAYS right and he knows everything. I am in awe (or terribly naive) 

3. I once went on a date with a grown ass man wearing Heelies! The whole date was rather bizarre, but when he rolled down the aisle to retrieve an item, I knew he would never have the pleasure of seeing me again. Are you hearing me? He was wearing Heelies… Sneakers with wheels made for lazy adolescents. Do you understand what I'm saying? I just can’t go back to dating. I'm just going to stay here safely with Dan and his feet all up in my business.

2. I am very enthusiastic. All. The. Time. I think everything is an exciting and fantastic idea. I don’t need people to think my brilliant ideas are as wonderful to them as they are to me, because I DO know they're crazy, but I do need my enthusiasm to be matched. If I say (in a shrill, excited voice), “Let’s-hitch-hike-to-Puerto-Rico-right-now-and-never-come-back-and-change-our-names-to-Ceramic-Pot-and- Monkey-Wrench.” Dan does an excellent job of having an equally shrill and enthusiastic tone as he says, “Savannah-honey-we-can’t-do-that-because-it’s-crazy-but-I-love-you-anyway-let’a-go-get-a-cheeseburger-instead.”

1. Oh yeah, and I really love Dan. (That’s all the mushy details you’ll get from me on the matter)

It’s clearly evident that I am lucky even to have friends, let alone a boyfriend. Dan certainly puts up with a lot…  Maybe I should work a little harder to not be such a barrel of monkeys inside a toaster oven.

Just so we're clear, I'm one dramatic episode away from a trip to Bellevue and I am so lucky to have found someone who finds that attractive. Keeper.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

My Philosophy on the Origin of Depression

I’m just going to start by saying that I know depression is a real thing. I’m not here to knock it... But I will mock it. Please don’t call me Tom Cruise. I hope not to be that big of a douche, but if at the end you still find me terribly offensive, great!! I haven’t gotten any hate mail yet.  Savannah@Savvy-Pants.com

Quitting my serious job and deciding to become a “writer” has given me copious amounts of free time the likes of which I haven’t seen since I was a nine year old on summer vacation. I did have to get a part time job to pay rent though, because, let’s face it, even Superman had a day job. But those four hours a day hardly take up much space in my day or give me any reason to get up early. 
I figured that since I didn’t have to work until 3:00pm, I could easily sleep in as late as I wanted and still make it to work on time. 


Then after getting off of work at 8:00pm I would still have a lot of my night left if I stayed up really late.

We were now ready for the best schedule ever. 

I couldn’t sleep in too late of course, I had to spend time writing every day or what was the point of quitting my job? (except I guess to have the schedule of this nine year old on summer vacation)

So after waking up somewhere in the wee hours of 11am, I would (without getting out of bed) write for a few hours on a blog post, a new novel, or in my journal. Finally I’d get up and leave for work, only to return to bed and watch a movie or lounge around doing nothing under the pretense that I “needed to recuperate”. 

After about a week of this nonsense I realized I was starting to feel depressed, and lethargic, and totally lame.

I wasn’t confused about my new mood for an instant. I’ve always known that laziness leads to depression, which made me think…

*Now, I’m not a history major (or minor or even a history pay-good-attentioner) but I’m going to take what little knowledge I have and combine it with everything I know from reading The Other Bolin Girl and create some historical malarkey that I will present with such confidence you’ll be fooled into taking it as fact. Ready?

I think depression was “born” way back in the day when princesses with their ladies in waiting, courtiers, duchesses and a whole smattering of other titled folks would sit around all day gossiping and putting on airs.

Before this time, people were out hunting and discovering land and starting war, you know really keeping themselves active. There is no time for depression when you are trying to conquer Spain. But then when Spain was sufficiently married away to France they found so much time on their hands they just didn’t quite know what to do with themselves. This is when they decided to have balls to occupy their time. They also played cards, read poetry, learned to play the mandolin or the harp, and generally found things to amuse themselves with (mostly gossip and having affairs) oh, and learning new whorish ways NOT to sleep with the king.

People were bored in that time and, I’m saying with confidence, depressed. Why do you think Jesters were such a big deal? "Please, make us laugh to forget for a moment how sad and pathetic we are."



It has since been passed down through time and hit very well meaning individuals. I’m sorry you are working very hard with your therapist to overcome your depression but you have a great-great (insert more greats) grandmother in England who sat around all day playing cribbage and has doomed you to bouts of melancholy  because she was too busy sewing lace to get out and volunteer at an animal shelter. 

So when you find yourself feeling down, as we are all wont to do (thanks to our no good ancestors) take a minute and embrace your sad feelings and then kick your great great (insert more greats) uncle Leroy’s fanny for being such a ninny. Finally, get off your keester and do something. It’s all the sitting around that’s making you feel blue in the first place.

And that’s historically proven. 

Thursday, September 1, 2011

My 7 Poltergeist Brothers

Quotes from STARDUST : Photos

As I’m coming upon the THIRD post about one movie I can’t help but wonder if I am completely out of my mind to think that this silly story deserves so much attention. But I’m currently pumped full of coffee and excitement as I begin to tell you about my favorite storyline in the movie. I know that the hero and love story is the focal point of the movie, but I can’t help but love the plight of the dead princes. The coffee has really kicked in now and I am delirious with excitement (and caffeine) to write about this! OMTitsgoingtobeawesome

So let’s first lay out the premise of this plot. There is a king on his deathbed who has 7 sons and one daughter (We don't care too much about the daughter, she’s been a witches slave for years now) that are fighting over the throne and slowly killing each other off. By the time we meet them, there are only 4 (then quickly 3) left, but only one can be the heir. The king is disappointed in his pathetic excuse for sons. He can't believe there are so many left. By the time his father died he had killed off ALL 11 of his brothers. 

Since he can’t stop his own death from happening, even without a clear heir, he enchants the family necklace and flings it out the window (knocking a star out of the heavens with its recklessness) and whoever finds the necklace first gets the kingdom. 

Off they go to find the necklace and maybe kill off their brothers along the way, you know, out of habit. 

I’m going to skip the details of the proceeding events because I have other things I want to talk about. You can watch the movie yourself to find out what happens. (I imagine that if you’ve read all three of these posts then you probably need to because I can’t see how I’ve possibly explained this movie in any sort of coherent way.)

Moving right along, Spoiler Alert: If you haven’t deduced by now through the extensive coverage of this movie, all 7 of the princes get themselves killed off and the young hero of the movie becomes king because he IS an heir to the throne and his lovely star has been wearing the necklace the entire time! 

Now that we’ve gotten the ending out of the way, I want to share why this is my favorite story line of the movie. 

Once one of the princes dies, his ghost is cursed to haunt his brother until an heir is found. As the story progresses and more and more of the brothers are killed they all join together to poke fun at, and cheer for, their living brother. 

These ghosts are fantastic. After killing each other off and all ending up in the same place, it is as if they can finally learn to be friends. I enjoy it so much because their commentary is from a third party as if they are watching the movie as well.

The final battle scene ensues with all 7 dead brothers watching in horror and hilarity as the cackling necromancer fights our hero with the body of one of the fallen princes. Awesome.

Whew! After telling one story from three points of view I have learned my lesson about over doing a topic. I'm officially sick of thinking about this movie. Just... Just go watch it for me and love it as much as I do.

Other things I love about this movie:
We always knew you were a woopsie, you shall not see the star, hear or touch it, counterproductive beauty regimen, and Victoria falling on her ass.

I cannot believe I just spent 3 posts talking about one silly movie. I’m going to start up therapy now.

Monday, August 29, 2011

How to Win a Girl’s Heart 101: Offer her a Polar Bear’s Head

Posted in Research by AURUM3 NewTech on July 9th, 2011

So continues our saga of interpreting one of my favorite movies as we see just how big of a nerd this Gilmore Girl’s watching, Settlers of Catan playing, Savvy-Pants really is…

Every great adventure starts by having sex with a princess who’s been tricked into being a witches slave. 

Fast forward eighteen years and her son (our soon to be hero but currently just a bumbling idiot) is having his own struggle trying to win his lady love. He’s tried all he can think of, but his fair maiden isn’t interested in the things he has to offer. Well then, the only thing left to do is get her the star that has fallen from the sky. Which is WAY father than Ipswich. JustSoYouKnow.

The fastest way to travel is by candle light and luckily for this Shop Boy, he happens to have just that because his mother was a witches slave so she has access to all sorts of malicious goodies. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, this poor lad has never met his mother. 

Off he goes to get this star and convince her to come and be a gift for his true love because, as you know, the only way to win a girl’s heart is to give her gifts. Take a memo boys! (Author’s note: please don’t give me gifts; I’m awkward at receiving them. I prefer kisses. Lots of kisses)

Would you believe it, the star does not WANT to be a gift for this silly girl and would instead prefer to work on getting herself back in the sky. Selfish, is what that is. After bargaining the remainder of his Babylon Candle for her to get home, if she will first do him this favor, she agrees to make an appearance for Tits McGee.
And away they go. 

If you’ll remember they are being pursued by a witch with an evil agenda so that complicates things a bit. After a bit of a scuffle, he lights the remainder of his Babylon Candle and tells her to think of home. This gets them safely out of the grasp of the evil witch.

However heroic he was for getting them out of danger, this move makes our lovable hero a super jerk because A) he promised this candle to her so that she could get home and now he’s wasted it but he STILL expects her hold up her end of the bargain to be a birthday gift. And B) he told her to think of home, which she did, but he thought of his own home which landed them stranded on a cloud in the middle of a storm. Men suck.

Luckily for him there is a passing ship out collecting lightning that picks them up and save them from the storm... and themselves…. 

And here, ladies and gentlemen, we meet my favorite character of this movie and maybe of all the movies there are; Captain Shakesphere!! Oh how I love this gay pirate, I could write a whole post just on him. This well-crafted, amazingly played character has been working hard on his reputation, because you know, they take a lifetime to build, seconds to destroy. Whoopsie…

After our Loveable Whoopsie turns the bumbling boy into a hero worthy of winning the heart of a star, we get a fabulous scene of him dancing in his underwear. Awesome.

He then helps the daft boy to realize his TRUE love is not the spoiled brat who wants presents and favors, but the damn star who he is obviously head over heels for. Sometimes men just need to be told what they think.

Let’s pause here and talk about another why reason I like this movie. The love story is believable because it takes time to develop and you get to see and feel it happen. This is my biggest complaint about that joke of a love story in August Rush. I know everyone loved that movie but if you’re honest with yourself, it’s just because Freddy Highmore is a genius child actor who plays the guitar in an exciting and inventive way. The rest of the plot is an insult to the process of love. But, you know, that’s just my opinion. 

Hem, hem... Let’s get back on track and jump right to the end of the movie where it all gets good. First, our dashing hero is reunited with his mother after all these years. Then he is reunified with his shining star (because she was kidnapped by the witch during the part I skipped so that we could hurry up with the love part). They have a fancy shmancy fight where she uses magic and he uses cunning trickery to beat her. Spoiler Alert: The star is the one who actually saves the day at the end. 

Because he is a direct heir to the throne he is made king of the land and get's to live happily ever after. Forever. And here’s the best part, he didn’t have to EAT his star's heart, she gave it to him through the magical powers of love so they BOTH lived forever.

I love love.

Other things I love about this movie:
Squirrels pretending to want cheese to hear professions of love, you smell of pee and you look like the wrong end of a dog, bubbling candle, and a 90 year old ninja.

What other things do YOU love about this movie? I worry that I love it too much for a woman of my age and intelligence.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Catch a Fallen Star and Put it in Your Pocket

I told you that I was going to recapture my favorite movies and explain why they are SO fabulously captivating (to my wonky brain anyway). This movie is my second favorite movie of all time and it is so wonderfully woven of a tale that upon extensive examination I’ve decided I cannot do it justice in one pop. So, over the next three posts I will diligently try capture this outlandish affair. Enjoy.

This part of the tale is a classic story of witches being bitches. Just a few catty sisters who need to keep their youthfulness. Oil of Olay is out, cutting out the heart of a star and eating it, is in. 

Here is my guide to catching yourself some eternal youth and beauty. 

When a star falls from the heavens and lands on earth the only problem is finding where she landed and where the hell she off to? She's not going to stay in one place, and a lot of people will be after her. Don’t worry, you have some magic runes. Also, did you know you can tell the future by cutting open a ferret and looking at its small intestine? I mean, I learned a lot from Professor Trelawney but I had no idea divination included animal cruelty. 

The star is surprisingly quick and crafty for someone who isn’t used to being awake during the daytime and seems to have a broken leg, so walking just isn’t quick enough to keep up with her. You’ll have to buy a goat from a stable boy to pull your wagon. He may be too slow though so just for safe measure, you will also need to turn the stable boy into a goat. You can then fashion them both to the cart and have them haul your ass around the kingdom.

As a witch, if you are STILL unable to catch a fallen star, even with your resourceful goat wagon device, you have options. One of those options is to materialize an Inn and turn the goat into your husband and the stable boy into your daughter. It’s been a big day for that poor stable boy. 

Now that you have an Inn and people to work there, when the star needs to come in from the rain you can fix her a bath and give her a naked massage. I don’t know about you, but I think I’ll materialize an Inn out of thin air right now. That sounds awesome. 

Once your star is fully relaxed then you can kill her and, the point of it all, eat her heart and be youthful once again. Because let’s face it, all of this magic use has really put a damper on the youthfulness left over from the last star-heart-consumption and by this time you’re looking a little more wicked witch of the west and a little less Glinda.

But, just when the star is nice and happy and you are about to Hannibal Lecter her up, the doorbell rings. It just so happens to be another person on a quest to get YOUR star. This whole deal would be a lot easier if everyone could just leave you in peace. There is a simple solution to getting rid of him. Set him up in a bath of his own and just go ahead and slit his throat. Once he’s out of the way the star is all yours.

Now where were we? Oh yes, Let’s move on to the heart cutting shall we, but damn it she has a stupid boy protecting her because HE thinks he gets to keep the her as well. This is what I’m saying, there are so many people after this star, but he isn’t even going to eat her heart. What. A. Waste!

Let’s jump to the end here and get to the final battle scene. We’re all rooting for you to eat this heart right now because you are looking like Miss Ellie. So, let’s have a battle sequence where you use a dead prince as a puppet and throw out some dramatic magical smashing of mirrors. Use whatever magic you have left in your old bones and kick some Shop Boy ass and get your star!

Spoiler Alert: Stars shine very bright and if they are so inclined to do so, you’re toast. Mmmm, yummy toast, but my love of warmed bread aside, a brightly shining star will completely obliterate you. Sorry. 

Other things I love about this movie:
Ditchwater Sal, Empusa, Ferdy the Fence, Humphrey, 2 faced dogs and a merchant with the voice of a chicken.

So everyone… What movie is this? 

Also, please tell me you love this incredible, nonsensical and whimsy-tastic movie as much as I do, because I’m afraid I might just be a giant nerd!!

Monday, August 22, 2011

What if This Train Were a Hostage Movie?

Living in New York finds me on the Subway more than any other mode of transportation. It’s good though; it’s cheap, practically effortless, and frees up my hands and mind during the commute to do other things. I am LITERALLY writing this while on my way to Brooklyn. Believe it. 

Being on the train so much also makes me need to get creative with the time. It’s one thing to put in my ipod, listen to a little Adele, and write my next great blog post in the interim, but when traveling with other people this is hardly courteous. My boyfriend, Dan, and I frequently travel together and although we could win the Chit-Chat-Patty-Wack award (it’s a real award… in my mind) with our conversation abilities, sometimes there just isn’t much to say. Instead of staring at each other like the couple who is on the last leg of their relationship, we make up little games. 

I’m getting rather good at The Movie Game, but if I’m honest I cheat about 86% of the time. (Dan, this is a lie to make my blog funny, I never cheat) My favorite game as of late is

What if This Train Were in a Hostage Movie?
Ever heard of it? You should definitely play on a train/bus near you. Here’s how you play.

Before you begin, you have to have the optimum train make-up. 

This has to be when the train is A) fairly empty so that there is the ability to move around without difficulty. The late evening is usually best. The train also has to be B) full enough that there are enough people to play with and C) have a diverse group. If you have all of these components you are ready to play. 

The game itself, consists of assigning roles to the players.

You have to start (of course) by assigning the hero: Usually the hero is an obvious Daniel Craig from James Bond type, but sometimes he will be an unwitting Denzel Washington from Taking of Pelham 123 type (which just happens to be a hostage movie that takes place in the subway in New York… irony) Sometimes Dan gets to be the hero, but usually he’s the guy trying to think of an elaborate plan or else he’s too busy checking Twitter to notice we’re even being held hostage in the first place.

Next (naturally) you have to assign the hero’s female love interest: This can’t be a girl dressed to slutty, or too plain. She has to be pretty without knowing it and confident but kind of whimpy. She also has to be right in the middle of heroine and damsel in distress. Sometimes I get to be the love interest but usually I want to be the girl that shoots the bad guy in the knee cap when the hero knocks the gun out of his hand. 
Once you have the starring roles then you can start finding back up players.

The punk-ass smart-mouthed fool: This guy is going to give off lots of lip and attitude and the whole time you will be wondering if he’ll switch sides. Luckily those are in abundance in New York 

The comic relief: This guy will be in his mid-twenties and feel so invincible that he won’t worry about repercussions as he cracks jokes through the entire ordeal. He makes everyone feel more relaxed during the terrible situation and is so funny the bad guys let him carry on. 

Leather clad douche-bag: This guy will THINK he’s the hero of the day but after his very first reckless move early on, he will get shot in the arm and spend the rest of the movie whimpering in the corner. 

Pregnant Lady: If you can get an obviously pregnant lady you are in the money! This is the gold mine for the hostage game. Somewhere towards the end of negotiations she will go into labor and the bad guys will have a moment of compassion and work out a way to trade her out of the car. Of course the leather clad douche-bag will say that he deserves to be traded because he’s been shot but this will just make everyone hate him more. Then I’ll kick him in his arm and he can continue whimpering in the corner.

Mother and child: Sure we have a pregnant lady, but we need the child and his overprotective mother. A baby in arms is fine if that’s all you have, but a spunky 9 year old is the best. 

If you have all these players, you have yourself a game. One or two of the extras doesn’t hurt either.

Extras: An elderly person, a nun or rabbi, a skanky girl or a passel of skanky girls, a foreigner who doesn’t speak English and just has a franticly puzzled look on their face the entire time, and an over reacting rich man who tries to bribe his way out. 

Sure this game involves quick judgment of people we don’t know, but if you are already prone to people watching and playing What’s Their Life Story then you are fully equipped and prepared to play. 

Finding the perfect train car is hard to do because there are always a few missing elements or key players. 

Only once did Dan and I find the perfect combination. All of the elements were in order and we had the perfect combination of players. To top it off, the spunky 9 year old had a Justin Bieber quality that added a little something extra to the mix. We were so impressed and excited to find the perfect train that there was nothing left to do but tell everyone to hit the deck and try to negotiate for $100 million in unmarked bills.