Suck it, Ikea. You too, Abe Lincoln. Suck it in 3-D.

Hello, my dears. I know, I know, it's been a while since I blogged, but trust me it was worth the wait. That's because I'm about to tell you a story about....my dresser drawers! Oh, it is your lucky day.

I should first say that I am very good at finding makeshift, half-ass, surprisingly successful fixes of every day problems. When I didn't have a drill to insert screws into a wall, I solved the household's problem by teaching my housemates that you can simply pound a nail into a wall, immediately pull it out, and voila! you have yourself a hole, which you can then use a screwdriver to twist the screw into. When the zipper on my pants fly would not stay up, I rigged a loop of string (rubber bands or hair bands work for this too) onto the end of the zipper to loop onto the button at the top of the fly to stop it from dropping.

Last year I bought a lovely dresser from Ikea. After putting it together, I made myself laugh for several days my showing people and proclaiming, "look at the worksmanship on this dresser!" It looks quite nice, however, it is no suprise to any of us that much of Ikea's furniture is, well, flimsy to say the least. So, soon after I started using the dresser I noticed that the bottom drawer, where I store my pants (as all bottom drawers are clearly intended) started to sag. That is because the dresser is designed so that the bottom of the drawer slides into these little notches on the front and back of the dresser, and the only additional support is this little wedge piece that you are supposed to screw in. Observe this 3-D model I threw together:


Why do I have time to make 3-D models of my furniture? Because I am serving jury duty today! But that's besides the point. Aaaaanyway....there is the sagging drawer.

And here is why it sags:

So last night, I was in the middle of freak-out mode. That's because I just graduated, and although I have a job for at least the next 6-8 months, past that is kind of uncertain. On top of that I need to figure out how the heck I'm going to obtain/pay for health insurance, and pay off my student loans, figure out if I should start looking for more permanent jobs, etc. I've been gone for 2 weeks and my house was a mess, and to top it off I took the slooooowest bus ride home next to the most perfume-y woman in Portland, and so I was in "kill! kill! kill!" mode. To make my life have some semblance of order, I came home and swept the kitchen, thinned out my closet, scrubbed the bathtub, swiffered the floors, cleaned the toilet and sink, reorganized all my makeup and medicine, threw away unnecessary school papers, and organized all my clothes in the dresser. While I was re-folding all my pants in the bottom drawer, I decided ENOUGH IS ENOUGH and I was going to teach Ikea a lesson.

If Ikea is going to sell me shoddy furniture, I'm going to solve it with shoddy tools. I turned the dresser upside down and began scouring my room for objects that could be wedged into the notch to better secure the bottom of this drawer. Upon careful 15 seconds of consideration, I decided that without a doubt the best solution for this sad little drawer would be pennies and super glue! Why? Because pennies are fucking annoying. They're heavy, they jingle around in my pockets, they sit around on my desk, they can't be used in any machines, they can't really buy you anything, they get dirty, and even if you collect them all and finally get around to putting them in rolls and taking them to the bank, you'd be lucky to get $2.00. Pennies suck. If they don't work as currency, I'm going to find a better use for them. Leverage!

Right as I was in the middle of wedging the pennies and pushing super glue all over them, Nick came over and witnessed my fit of fix-it madness. He offered a few suggestions of, "why don't you just nail or screw the drawer in place?" But I assured him, "NO! This is going to work!" And so he sat patiently, helping me squeeze the stupid drawer together, while I applied glue to the pennies and drawer, as well as my fingertips, leg, and floor.

Just when I was about to admit, OK, this is a silly plan, and the glue isn't sticking to anything but me and the pennies are going to fall and I'm making a mess, we decided to let it sit for a while and see if the glue would stay put, we went to get some food, and when we came back, I had myself a sturdy little drawer again. Behold!
Now my drawer slides in and out, holds up all of my pants, and works like a charm.

The only flaw in my plan is that I did get a rather huge chunk of super glue on my leg, and I forgot about it until I was shaving said leg, and the razor basically ripped the glue off along with a chunk of skin. Fail!

So what's my point? Well, I think I have a few morals. First, never doubt my ability to fix crap with whatever other crap I find lying around. Maybe this is my superpower. Second, well, when you finish grad school you might not have a job, and you might get kind of bored, and you might think that writing a long-ass story about your drawers will be entertaining. That's what $40,000 of debt gets you. A lot of boring-ass stories to tell people. You know what else a masters degree gets you? Some 3-D modeling skills to help you illustrate your boring ass story. And it also means you're out of school and therefore, you lost your excuse to get out of jury duty. And I think I'm sending a clear message to Ikea as well as the US Treasury: You can suck it.

Oh, one more thing. Sara knows best. HA!

Stoner thought of the day

I will begin by reminding you that I am not a stoner. I don't ever smoke the weed drugs, and any of you will vouch for that. But sometimes I have these thoughts that only a stoner would appreciate. An ol' favorite of mine is, "What's on the other side of your belly button?" I mean, is it flat or pinched? Does it look like an outtie? What is it connected to? What did it used to be connected to? Not your stomach. I don't know!

My latest one all started because I saw this squirrel hopping around on a tree and it had very obvious nipples. I had never seen this before, and I started thinking about how the mama squirrel must have baby squirrels somewhere, but in my whole life I have never seen a baby squirrel. I know baby birds live in nests, but do baby squirrels stay up there too? For how long? What do they eat?

This lead to me starting to think about how we all live in this world, and it's made by some higher energy, which I refer to as "the universe." The universe has made us all players and characters in this weird scenario, and plopped us down on earth surrounded by other random characters and settings and objects which we experience day to day. Sometimes, however, it seems there is a glitch in the universe and we discover something that the universe forgot to create, like baby squirrels. The new thing that I realized is that since I have lived in Portland, for over a year and a half, I have never ever seen a cemetery. So this is my latest part in my stoner ponderance: Where do all the dead people go?

Now that I've posed this, some of you will reply and say "Oh, Sara there's totally a cemetery on so-and-so street," but you won't convince me. Because now that I've discovered this glitch, the universe will adjust and start making all your characters cover it's track by trying to point out where the cemeteries are, but I'm pretty sure if I had never noticed and pointed it out, I could have gone on living in Portland never seeing a cemetery.

Or, as Laura pointed out, maybe it's because everyone in Portland is in their 20s and 30s and people just never die here. They all die in Ohio.

Smoke on THAT!

Whooooooa Hugh Jackman!

I know ladies like Hugh Jackman, but I've never really understood the attraction. I think he always looks like Wolverine, and honestly I think Australians usually have faces that make them look like they've been molded out of clay. Don't get it.

However, I just watched him on The Daily Show and his arms just made me feel really special. Whoa. I thought his arms were just make-up or whatever for the X-Men movies, but it turns out that shit is REAL.

I dunno, I saw him and exclaimed WHOOOOAAAAAA even though nobody else was in the room so I thought it warranted a blog. Maybe I will have to see that Wolverine movie after all.

Rarrrrr.

Leave of Absence

(These are the only peeps I am allowed to see until graduation, apparently)

Dear Everyone I Love,

Unfortunately I am going to need to take a leave of absence from society for a while until I finish grad school. Every minute I am not sleeping, apparently, is going to be consumed by finishing our thesis, learning how to plan a site, and reading real estate market analyses. 

I have always hated when people complain about being sooooo busy with school, because, come on, at least you don't have to sit in a cubicle 40 hours of every week. But damn, PSU. This shit is ridic. We met tonight to write out a timeline of everything we need to do, and basically, I came to the conclusion that I'm going to have to dedicate the next 2 months of my life to the Kingdom of Nerd.

I've had a blog brewing in my head about Spring Break, but now that was 3 weeks ago and it seems a little out-of-date, but I'll still try to weave together a story for you between working, workshopping, homeworking, and meetings. I had to let the pictures leak, which ruins the narrative, but I should be feeling witty one of these days.

Thank goodness the four people on my workshop team happen to kick a lot of ass, and provide ample study breaks with weird videos on youtube and visits to morally questionable websites, providing many bits of laughter. We're on a poop-talk basis now, so things are getting pretty serious.

Just want to let you know, that it's not you, it's me, and I still like you and I think you're great and all that. I'll see you June 13!

Regards,

Sara B

Spring break blog: postponed due to some exciting news

I was about to write my much-anticipated (by me) blog/photo essay about spring break, but I just heard that shortly after I left Nikolai's party, Morgan lit her ass on fire. Yes, rumor has it that Morgan, while intoxicated, accidentally sat on a candle, lighting her ass on fire and melting her cell phone. I am hoping that someone photographed it so that I can include it in the spring break story. I have said this before, but I want to reiterate: My friends are fucking awesome.

Social melatonin

I have been having random weird sleep problems for the past few months, and someone recently suggested I try taking melatonin supplements. After a brief melatonin/melanin confusion (yes, she is rather pale, and does need supplements) I found out that melatonin is a naturally-produced hormone that regulates your circadian rhythms, and can help people who have trouble falling asleep. After this discovery, I did more research and also discovered it's not for me. But it got me thinking...

What if I could make a SOCIAL melatonin that regulates all my friends' circadian rhythms to match mine? THAT way, when I feel sleepy and break plans to hang out with someone, they wouldn't be let down; they'd just say, "good idea, I think I'll take a nap, too!" And when I am awake in the middle of the night, alert and bored as hell, all my friends would be ready to play Boggle with me. And when I slept til noon because I couldn't pull myself out of bed, at least I wouldn't feel bad about it because I knew that everyone else is being just as unproductive and I'd know I'm not missing out on anything.

I am going to start extracting melatonin from my pineal gland in my brain (I told you I did lots of research) and encapsulating it, so if you see me slipping it into someone's drink, that's what's going on. I'm not trying to rape them. It's a compliment; it means I want to hang out!

Spring break! Woooooo?

Spring break! Woooooo!

OK so Spring break just started and here's what I've done so far: I've gone to bed early every night. I've gone to work. I read a book about arthritis. I read the paper by the river today. I am planning to learn how to knit. I went to a bar and ordered a Sprite. I thought my soup was too spicy. I turned down watching a movie and eating ice cream with a friend because it was 9:00 and "too late". I'm watching my caffeine intake. I eat raisin bran every morning. It's 10pm and I just got in bed -- and I couldn't wait.

Ummmm....when did I turn 80?

I think SPRING BREAK WOOOOOO has kind of turned into more like SPRING BREAK WOooooooo (imagine the woo sounding like it's falling down a well.) On that note...I'm going to bed. Screw you guys.

Your dose of cute for today

I was out on my front porch, and it's a particularly icky day outside. It's kind of cold still, it's very gray, and it's starting to rain.

Across the street, there were two little girls holding hands, jumping up and down on a trampoline. One was wearing a pink raincoat, and the other was wearing a yellow raincoat. I heard one of them say, "I'm having too much fun!"

When was the last time you were doing something SO fun that you had to proclaim that it was TOO MUCH? Especially on a crappy-weather Saturday afternoon?

Kids are so funny.

Dancing poofyhead robot people

Recently, a friend told me he really likes my blogs about riding the bus. I told him that there aren't many crazy people on my bus anymore. Today, an out-of-town visitor was talking about her child's culture shock riding public transportation through the South Side of Philly. I told her it was pretty normal here.

Then I got on the MAX (light rail train) to head home.

I was sitting by myself, minding my own business, when a young-ish couple got on the train. They looked like normal Portland half-hippies-half-hipsters. Hippiesters? I noticed the girl was carrying a big poofy thing of fabric attached to an elastic loop. No biggie. She put it on her head. Still no biggie. We all sat quietly and rode the train through downtown and over the river.

Just as we started to head North from the Rose Quarter, my homegirl Morgan called my phone. "What's going on?" I asked, as I answered the phone. As I listened to Morgan ask something about coffee, the girl with the fabric poof on her head moved to the other side of the train. Her boyfriend started beatboxing. They both started dancing like robots. I tried to pay attention to Morgan asking "Did someone get coffee for tomorrow's meeting or should I get instant packets?" What I thought was just a few seconds of the couple goofing around with silly robot dances kept going...and going... "Uh, I don't...I don't know what we decided about coffee..." I stumbled, not really knowing what I was saying. The couple continued dancing and bouncing up and down, and the boyfriend stood up and started swinging from the bar, and then proceeded to walk his feet up the window as the train slowed to a halt. Morgan was still trying to ask me if she should buy some damn coffee, and I told her I don't know how to make coffee.

What?! I totally know how to make coffee. I just couldn't formulate thoughts.

The weird thing is that it wasn't the dancing that weirded me out. Actually, it didn't seem that strange for some reason (I'm developing an immunity to Portland's eccentricities). The reason my head got confused is because I couldn't tell what I was supposed to do in this social situation. Did they want people to react? Did they want someone to laugh and say "What the f are you doing?" or were we supposed to just accept and appreciate that they were having a bit of creative freedom? Or was the experiment to do something totally bizarro and see if people would sit idly and pretend they didn't notice anything was going on. Because that is exactly what I did.

I don't know, the situation kind of scared me.

Well, it worked. They totally scrambled my brain to the point of making me claim I don't know how to make coffee. Thanks, dancing robot poofyhead people.

I confess to online dating, if only to show you these freaks

In order to write what I expect will be a gem of a blog, I'm first going to have to admit to a slightly embarrassing fact: I joined an online dating website. I'm not super embarrassed about this, but it's not something I would publicize to everyone I know unless I had some hilarious things to say about it, so I think you're in store for some laughs.

First of all, I joined because it's hard to meet people! Almost all of my friends are part of a couple, and they tend to hang out with other couples, so this was an easy attempt to try to meet other non-attached people who at the very least might want to drink a cup of coffee with me, and who knows, maybe I would meet someone amazing. I have been on it for about two weeks, and so far I had one date, and guess what? It was fun! I'm not going to call him again, but he was totally normal and nice and we had a nice time drinking two beers and playing a game of pool. Good job, Sara. Indeed. Way to be social.

I think I'm basically done with it, because I realized I already know a lot of people who kick lots of ass, so the site is getting boring. But it's fun to all of a sudden have an inbox full of men who think you seem interesting. Go go gadget self esteem!

Anyway, although I've been able to drink two beers and exchange some emails with some interesting-sounding people, 95% of the people on these websites are total freaks. I have been collecting some of my favorites and I would like to take this opportunity to share these with you. Why? Because I could not, in my wildest dreams, create these characters if I tried. It's too good!

And it has reaffirmed something I had a hunch about: Men have no clue. And I don't mean that in a "Uuugh, men are pigs, women know all" kind of way because I don't know shit either. We're all fucking clueless. But really...whoa. These guys are just unreal.

Here are my faves:
1. One guy IMed me through the website and wanted to talk about turkey sandwiches. My one-word answers must not have conveyed the boredom I was trying for, because he just. kept. talking. about turkey sandwiches. I stopped the conversation after he said "sometimes I like to use ranch dressing instead of mayo." First of all, yuck, and second of all, I am not going to let my life drop to that level where I discuss creamy sandwich condiments with strangers on the internet. I am a lady!

2. I found profile of a guy in Portland from Cincinnati, and I tend to like people from Cincinnati. Then I looked at his picture and he was wearing a shirt with a peace sign on it and his musical interests stated that he likes Sister Hazel. WHO THE F likes Sister Hazel? Didn't the folks on Friends listen to Sister Hazel in 1998? No thank you. I moved away from Ohio to get away from this exact type of lame-o.

3. One guy emailed me and said, "I have a fun but goofy personality. That's why I came up with the screen name Mr_Smart_Ass." Sigh...Dude...that is neither fun nor goofy, nor is it a personality trait that women are attracted to. And it's not clever. You suuuuuck.

4. I received (and did not respond to) an IM from a guy whose screen name was OregonHippieGuy, and his profile featured five photos, and in all five photos he was sporting a different tie dyed shirt. Awesome.

5. One guy emailed me, and in an attempt at small talk, asked me what is the weirdest thing I have ever borrowed. (If you want to know, it's a toilet plunger). He said his was a pepper mill. I don't actually think that is a strange thing to borrow. I don't own a pepper mill, so if I needed to grind pepper (I hate pepper) I would definitely borrow one. This did not interest me, and I did not reply.

6. Found a guy whose screen name was "Defeated." Yes indeedy.

7. One guy emailed me and started the note with "You're kind of cute. Dork." Hello? Not a way to my heart. Guess what? You're kind of stupid. Asshole.

8. Got a note from a guy whose screen name (really) was Insideyourcooch. He lives in the UK and asked, "Hi you alright Sunbeam?" I think this guy is a lunatic, or someone is playing a joke on me.

9. I have come across a really surprising number of ultimate frisbee enthusiasts. I wondered if I joined the wrong site for a minute. I wonder if there is a correlation between ultimate frisbee enthusiasm and loneliness.

10. Finally, a guy who posted three photos. First, a bad photo of him in front of Rockefeller Center. No biggie. Then, two photos of him grabbing boobs on a statue. And I wish I could lay claim to this joke, but I gotta give props to my roommate/homegirl Laura, because when I showed her this guy, her jaw dropped. "How do these guys think this is going to attract women?!" she yelled. "That would be like, the equivalent of if a girl posted a bunch of photos of her calling you all the time." And that's why she's my hero.

So, in theory, online dating seems awesome, and I know it works out for some people. You put it all out there, you can read all about someone without having to get all drunk and try to seem interesting at the bar. That's pretty cool. But I'm busy and I don't have time to sift through these freaks. I just posted 10 of them, and I probably could pull up about 30 more, and I've only been looking at this for two weeks. The world is full of psychos, and I think they're all online right now.

Anyway, I have tons of plans this weekend so I'm not worried anyway.

Pub trivia: I concede to the Mr. Peabodys of the world

There are several distinct traits I inherited from my dad.

First, we have dazzling blue eyes. Unfortunately, they provide very blurred vision. But at least we look good.

Second, we are both night owls. We will stay up late watching Blind Date if it's the only thing on TV, even if we were tired and dragging all day. 10pm hits and we're alert and ready to rock. Just in case something happens.

We are both very cynical. I'm trying to be less so, but on the other hand it provides me with a sense of realism and plenty of witty one-liners that make other cynics like me.

Finally, my dad kicks ass at trivia. Play an obscure song from the 50s or 60s and he can probably tell you the name of the song, who recorded it, who wrote it, where it was recorded, and maybe a little back story behind it. Political trivia, historical trivia, pop culture. He knows it all. Almost to the point that it's not fun to play Trivial Pursuit, because there's a good chance he'll get all his pies before you get a turn. I have been lucky enough to inherit whichever gene it is that allows your brain to permanently capture tidbits of information that bring you little in life, unless you're being awarded points in a pub.

Dad plays trivia every week with a bunch of other trivia nerds at a neighborhood bar, and when I'm home I try to join the team once in a while, because once in a while someone will need to identify a picture of Kanye West or give the title of a Goo Goo Dolls song from the mid-90s. They used to play for free t-shirts, but since the bar switched ownership, they get gift certificates for free brunch. I imagine they like this better anyway, because my dad has never been one for cooking or spending money. This brings a trifecta of excellence: food, that is free, as a reward for filling your head with useless (well, maybe not!) knowledge. I once saw him try to argue that other teams should not receive credit for Smokey THE Bear (who helps prevent forest fires) because technically his name is just Smokey Bear. This game is not a joke. They usually play under the revered name Mr. Peabody's Wayback Machine (I know what that reference is) but sometimes they have a good pun based on current events. I'm not good enough to have a consistent, recognizable team name, but perhaps in time I will.

I've been playing pub trivia at bars around Portland here and there, and instead of rewarding us with free food we play for cash money. One time we won almost $500, although usually if we're lucky enough to win we walk out with more like $6. But it's the pride that matters most.

I was thinking about it tonight and came to a sad conclusion: I will never be able to reach my prime in trivia because I was born in 1982. My dad was born in 1950, and so he has lived through 32 more years of pop culture than me. Those are 32 years that I will never be able to absorb, simply because I haven't lived through that. When the questions ask about things that have happened in my life, I know lots of them. I know song titles and obscure TV sitcom characters, random facts about the human body and weird latin roots. I think I also know more trivia than other people my age partially because I didn't have cable growing up, so I spent years watching re-runs of shows that aired slightly before my time. Still, I realized that as I get older, all the trivia about events between 1950 and 1982 will still be hazy to me, and there will always be someone like my dad on another team getting those questions right while I sit there and scratch my head saying, "Uh, I've never seen The Love Boat, so I dunno." Even when I'm in my 50s, there will still be some geezer who can easily remember the name of Nixon's wife, simply because he was alive, and I'll be scratching my head trying to remember what she looks like on antique presidential memorabilia. And that geezer will win my pot of money or my free brunch certificate.

So, to all you trivia fogies, I concede. You will always beat me. But, I at least I know who Kanye West is.

Best in Planned

Let's talk about grad school! We are currently in the process of starting our final workshop project, in which we separate into groups, find clients, and form mini-planning firms to take on a project. My lovely group is going to do a vision project for a neighborhood association. As part of this, we have to name the group. And now things get out of hand.

We started with serious name ideas: Vision PDX. Planning View.

Then the play on words started: Visiontervention. Visionvent the Neighborhood. Visioncredible.

Then I wanted Pie in the Sky Planning, and was quickly told that is "some hippie shit" and also "gay. No, like really gay."

We're currently leaning toward Up Your Alley Planning, because it weirdly borders on cute and rude. The cool thing is that there are a ton of alleys in the neighborhood. And we want to make a plan that is right up your alley! But it kind of sounds like Up Yours.

Ok, and then the smart-ass ideas and bad puns started pouring in, thanks in large part to a certain roommate whose name rhymes with "dora the explora" and also my dad, the king of punny things.

Quit Your Complanning. Planning Booth. Paper Plans. Orange You Glad I'm a Planner. White America Here To Help. Planned Neighborhood. Plannsylvania Station. Peter Plan. The Charles Planson Family. Plans Plans Plans. Plantastic. Plantasia. Plandestine Activity. Planner than Thou. Plans Labrynth. Planburger. Third Plan It. Digable Plan It. Oh, Plandy. Plansexual. Plandemonium. Plan to Plan Defense. Let's Eat Plantains.

But I'm still leaning toward my favorite: Best in Planned. Why? Because when people see it they will think, "Oh! Like best in show!" But really, when you say it out loud, it sounds plantastically similar to "Breast Implant."

When you're done groaning, let me know which ones you like. Actually I'm keeping my favorite to myself for now, because it's so good and I don't want any of you jerks to buy the url before me.