Monday, March 29, 2010

I promise to continue to live la vida loca...

Not you too, Ricky Martin, not you too...

Quick question: Is there a person on this planet who could possibly be shocked?

I'm pretty sure my 6 year old nephew was quoted as saying, "Who is Ricky Martin? Oh...yeah...that guy? I always knew he was into dudes. Not that there's anything wrong with that."
(Do you like how my nephew quoted Seinfeld when the show had ended long before he was even born?? He's just that culturally aware...)

Props to Ricky Martin for finally admitting something we've all known since 1999. Have fun being the equivalent of Santa Claus in gay pride parades...

Sunday, March 28, 2010

You see, I already have a plan. I'm waiting for my real life to begin.

I went to a concert this month (actually, I think I've gone to roughly 43 concerts this month...I must be channeling my mom somehow) and the singer said something that made me think, "If you're not getting happier as you get older, then you're messing up..."

I'm not sure if she meant to be so profound (yes, I found this more profound than "I write songs about people") and maybe it didn't strike anyone else as a bit of brilliance, but...how true is that statement??

How many times have I thought about the happiest times in my life and wondered where those times went? I'm not talking about when I was a 7 year old and was blissfully unaware of real life. I am talking about when I've longed for the times (be it 3 years ago, 6 months ago, or last week) where I was completely happy. You would think that the older you get, the more you'd figure out the things that make you happy and quit doing the things that make you, well, unhappy.

After putting some thought to it, I believe I've figured it out. The times I am happiest are when I am able to surround myself with the people in my life that allow me to be myself. The people I know that will love and support me no matter how dramatic or crazy I can be. The moment I start trying to be someone that I'm not to please the people I don't care about...that's when I start falling off the imaginary happy train (I totally just made up the "imaginary happy train"...see how crazy I can be?!?!).

So, to the person who will sit beside me on the couch and not need to say a word, to the person that will think logically for me while I can't help but think emotionally, to the person who is my twin and is required by law to love me (I'll see you in a month, momzy! I love you!!), to the person that will just listen, to the person that pushes me to be a better me...to the people that make me truly happy...thank you for loving me in spite of myself. You mean more to me than words can say.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Where did you come up with that?

I know I've talked about music too much lately, but this isn't necessarily about music. It's just about the dumb stuff that musicians say. Okay, really just one musician in particular. I was going to put this on my Facebook status, but I wanted to remember how this struck me as a really dumb thing to say and my blog seems more permanent than the fickle world of online social networking.

I could go on a tirade right now about the awesome stuff that John Mayer spews out of his mouth, but that would be too easy.

I fear I'm starting to build this blog up too much, please prepare yourself for a let down. I'm really just writing this one for me. I think it's funny that some famous people try to sound insanely profound and they just come off as a third grader trying to sound profound.

Daniel Merriweather (one of the current Vh1 Artists You Oughta Know) was interviewed about what he writes his music about and he replied, "I write my music about people."

NO KIDDING?!?! You don't try to focus your musical talent on your dog and the fact that he likes to lick the space where his balls used to be?? You don't like to write your music about the indigestion you got from the 32 layer burrito you ate entirely too fast? Really?? Songs about people?? You don't say...

Friday, March 26, 2010

Screw You, HOR-MONES.

The other day one of my favorite patients came in. To keep his identity under wraps, I'll just say that he's between the ages of 60 and 100 and we'll call him Mr. P. Wait...no...that's no fun. Let's call him "Master P". Because, well, that's just more enjoyable.

Master P is old school Mooresville. If you don't know what that means, it's pretty much the equivalent of "old school Wentzville" or "old school any-town-in-the-state-of-Kansas". He's your grandpa (if your grandpa is a farmer and has a really southern accent). You see, the fun thing about Master P is that he doesn't just come in for exams. No, no, no...he comes in to share his life. He's like the warm hug that breaks up your day between the drug-infused Medicaid patients (I'm not stereotyping...it's a fact that a lot of NC Medicaid patients are on some kind of drug. Please notice that I didn't say "all NC Medicaid patients are on some kind of drug") and the women from Lake Norman who come in to have something checked out because their hunky personal trainer just pushed them too far. (PS. It is a fact that all LKN women will complain about their tennis elbow far more than a cancer patient will complain about the fact that they have 6 months to live. I honestly have yet to meet a mean cancer patient.)

Okay, sorry...I digress. Back to Master P. So, he'll come in when he's running around town just to say hi. I love that. Does he need anything? Nah...he just says that he likes to see a smiling face (believe it or not, I smile a lot at work...that's probably why I have kind of a stone cold look on my face outside of work; I'm just resting my smile-er for the next time I'm at work). This particular time he came in to discuss something or other about hormone shots that he has to take for a disease he is in the beginning stages of. These aren't manly hormones he's having to endure, though. No...these are the girly kind of hormones and he said something that made me think.

"Well, I'm startin' to grow boobs. Not big ones, of course. My wife just noticed them. Also...I cry all of the time now. Now I know what you women have to deal with. It just comes at the drop of a hat. From a commercial...a commercial!"

FINALLY! A man that understands that the tears can't be helped! How wonderful would it be if every guy you know had to deal with just one day of hormones. Not because of some horrible disease, of course. Just one day where they would watch that Folgers commercial where Peter comes home and they start bawling their eyes out. One day where they feel unbearably bipolar.

Just one day. That's all I'm askin'.

Monday, March 15, 2010

So Much Shouting, So Much Laughter

Adam text messaged me on Thursday to see if I wanted to go to see Ani Difranco on Friday as a birthday present. Of course I said that I would love to. There is no way to think back to moving into my first apartment at 18 and not think of her music.

It was the first time that Adam and I had hung out by ourselves in almost 2 years and it was nice catching up. Like every other Ani show that we've ever been to (and there have been quite a few), we were willing her to play our songs. Naturally, with a music library of about 300 songs, she didn't play them, but I took the liberty of finding them on youtube for your viewing pleasure. The thing with Ani is that she doesn't really do music videos, but I did happen to find videos that people pieced clips from Grey's Anatomy and Scrubs together and made their own videos.

This is the song that Adam always had for me:


This is the song that I always had for Adam (disregard all of the making out...if you listen to the words, it really has nothing to do with that...and yes, he was offended when I first told him that this was his song):



It wouldn't be an evening out if I didn't make a fool of myself at some point. After getting some dinner and getting there right before the show, there was standing room only left and I went to find someone that worked there to ask if there were any upgrades to VIP (Adam and I agreed that it blows to stand amongst the smell of nag champa and patchouli). I tapped on the shoulder of a guy that was working the front door and he turned around, stuck out his hand, smiled and said, "Alex...hi...Sarah, right?"

I had met him awhile back at a show I went to with a different crew and was taken aback (is anything better than the phrase "taken aback"??) that this guy actually remembered me. I kind of stumbled over my words and he just smiled and said, "It was the eyes...I wouldn't forget those eyes." (It's odd that he wouldn't forget my eyes since I met him in a dark concert venue.)

By that time, another bouncer had walked up and I very smoothly said, "Ohhh, ummm...you have me flustered. Let me start over."

The two bouncers looked at each other and chuckled. I may as well of just had "DORK!" written on my forehead.

Needless to say, I avoided the guy for the rest of the night...
I mean, really...isn't that the way you should solve any sort of embarrassment?

So, there you have it...
Conversation. Food. Embarrassment. Concert. Home.

All in all, it was a good night.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Spaghetti & Cheese


I went viral last week.

Okay, maybe not "viral" in the sense that that term is usually used to describe. I was not being forwarded across the country with the subject line being "YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!!!". It was more in the "I got my family in a straight-up uproar after one statement via my Facebook status update" kind of way.

I said something along the lines of "Spaghetti & ketchup. Shut up. I like it."

It was intended to be a statement against my co-workers who earlier in the day said, "You eat spaghetti with ketchup on it?!?! That's DISGUSTING!", but it ended up getting more comments of support (all extended family members, of course) and before I knew it, many of my aunts and uncles had posted to their Facebook statuses (or is "statusi" the plural of "status"??) that they, too, were in love with the concoction of spaghetti, ketchup, and cheddar cheese that for as long as I can remember has been lovingly referred to as "spaghetti and cheese".

According to family folklore, my Grandpa Rogers came home one day from work with a newspaper clipping with the recipe for spaghetti and cheese on it (I know, I know...how do you need a recipe for 3 ingredients? Beats me.) I have actually thought about how different our family dinners would have been had he never seen that newspaper article (something tells me they were grasping for news stories back in the 1960's). What made him think, "Oh...that sounds delicious! I bet my family of 12 would really enjoy some spaghetti drowned in Heinz."

I meant to ask him about it...

My Grandpa Rogers died last night and I have to be honest, I'm thankful that the only thing I never said to him was, "Really? Ketchup and spaghetti? Huh."

I was lying in bed last night and was trying to remember the last time that I saw him and I'm pretty certain that it was in church. My grandparents spot was second row, left of center. My parents row was back row, left of center (Do you consider it odd that we have called dibs on our pews for the last 30 years? Even when the new sanctuary was built, my parents just transferred to the same area of church that they had when they were teenagers. I'm pretty sure that the next time I go back to Hope Bible Church, I can look at whoever is sitting in my pew and say, "You're in my spot.", but more than likely it will be my older brother who will be sitting there.)

Between Sunday School and the church service I used to go up to the first pew in front of my grandparents (they got there early for the best seat in the joint), do a 180 and say hey. My grandpa always looked surprised that I was there just to say hi (they knew just as well as everyone else that Steve's family took up the last pew). While the first time didn't really produce anything of substance, he had come to expect me to go up there and eventually our exchanges became easier and easier.
The first time I said, "I love you!", he replied with a pretty big grin, "Oh, well....uhhh...I love you, too."

I'm not sure when I started to make a point to tell the people that I love that I love them, but I have to say...I'm so glad I started.
It makes it a heckuvalot easier to live with the fact that I never asked about spaghetti and cheese.

I realized last night that even though my grandpa had 6 boys (and 4 girls), this is the only picture in existence of 4 generations of Rogers men.

(For those of you who have never seen a picture of my dad, that's not really what he looked like all of my life. He usually sported a flat top and a glorious mustache.)

Monday, March 8, 2010

Define Me.

I've recently written about the new music that I can't get enough of, but I want to add one more.

One of the most frustrating things about falling in love with non-famous artists is that they rarely tour and they don't seem to put out albums (or in this fella's case...EPs) very often.

His name is Brett Young and seems to be living and performing only around LA. He just made a video for his song Define Me, but I'm going to be honest...the video sucks. No, really...it's actually painful to watch. Sooo...you're getting a performance from an early morning news show (yeah...he's SO popular that he made it on the show Daybreak OC...go Brett). I hope you get the same warm-fuzzy feelings that I do when I hear this song...




PS. Sorry mom, I know you're not a huge fan of the pictures and videos that I post. Maybe something funny will happen soon so I can write about it. Love you! :)

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Catchphrase! Laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh...

On this, the day that the Oscars are presented, my mom sent me a trailer for every Academy Award winning film. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did...



Monday, March 1, 2010

What if?

Strap on your boots, kids...it's time for another survey! Please, keep your applause and/or groans to yourself (Why would someone applause and groan at the same time? I have no idea...).

What if you found out you were adopted? There would be a lot of explaining to do. Seriously...I look like my older brother (or so I'm told). Of course, I only remember my mom being pregnant with my little brother, so maybe Seth and I adopted?? Oh, crap. Wait...no, no, no...I have my mom's eyes. Okay...I guess I'm not adopted. Phew...I was getting nervous.

What would you do if you walked into your house only to find your boyfriend and your mother making out? 1. I'd be pretty stoked that I have a boyfriend. 2. I wouldn't be surprised because I have a firm belief that my mom may be a cougar and she's 134% cooler than I'll ever be (and if my hypothetical boyfriend likes me, he'll love the original).

What if a stranger told you your partner was cheating on you? I'd probably let it simmer for about 9 years and then pick a fight at a completely inappropriate time...you know...like in church or something. Have you ever picked a fight in the middle of a church service? Believe me, you get some stares.

If you could adopt one personality trait from someone, who and what? I've written about it a few times. Let's see if you can go back through the archives and see what it would be. (Hint: You won't have to look back very far.)

What if you found out your BFF was sleeping with your partner? First my mom and now THIS?!?! My fake partner is a slut! Geez...it's time to break up with this dude!

What if your dog crapped on your bed? I'd say, "Well, this is peculiar...I don't even have a dog!"

What if you saw that George W Bush had fallen in a well in your back yard? I have so many different thoughts with this question. 1. Why is GWB a popular figure in online surveys? 2. I don't have a back yard...I have a back patio (that desperately needs to be power washed come spring, so I really don't even want GWB to be back there because it would be quite embarrassing). 3. A well? Really? Would that make him like the girl in The Ring?? Would he creepily climb out of my TV and try to kill me?

What if you found out your partner had a sex change? Dang. This partner of mine has some serious issues.

If you were to drown in a liquid, other than water, what would it be? Do I have to drown? Okay...ummm...laundry detergent. At least I'd smell clean.

What if soda was illegal, would you still drink it? Nah. I could probably kick that habit if I needed to. Can you imagine how expensive soda (or "pop" for all my Kansas pals) would become if it were put on the black market? It's already like $5 a case. Also..."black market" sounds racist. Just sayin'.

What if you could only have one friend, who would it be? My mom. (Go ahead and tear up now, Momzy. You know you want to...)

If the world ended tomorrow, do you think you will go to heaven? 100% positive.

If you were paid 100 million dollars to sleep with an HIV positive person, would you? Whoa. What kind of demented question is this? Also...the world is apparently ending tomorrow...so what am I going to do with 100 million dollars?

If you knew you couldn't get caught, would you rob a bank? Never ever. When did this survey take such a dark turn?

If you could have a super power, what one would you choose? Off the top of my head, I was thinking invisibility. The more I think about it, though...I really wouldn't want to hear what people would have to say about me when I'm not around. Ignorance is bliss. Sooo...ummm...I guess flying because it would be super easy to go on vacation. But still...it would take a long time to get to where I'm going. So I'm going to change it so super-sonic flying. THAT would be awesome.

If you had to move out of the state you're in, what state would you move to? Montana...I have no idea why.

If you could choose how you die, how would it happen? Is "in my sleep" an answer or is that too vague? I'm a big fan of a painless death.

If you could instantly play an instrument you never played, which one? I want to play the piano and Gary wants to play the harmonica (go ahead an picture it....Gary with a Neil Young-esque harmonica strapped around his tiny kitty head...awesome.)

If you could solve one unsolved crime, which one would you solve? The mystery of who stole my missing sock. I'm pretty sure someone stole it. There is no way that I could have possibly misplaced it.

If you could eliminate one word from English vocab, what would it be? Panties. (Chunks just rose in my throat by just typing it.)

If you lost all your hair, would you wear wigs or embrace your new look? I'd like to pretend that I would embrace it, but I'm just too vain.

What if your best friend of the same sex proposed marriage to you? Well, I know she's not a lezzy, because she was already bumpin' uglies with my partner. So, I'd probably say, "Heck no, woman! You were just bumpin' uglies with my slut of a partner!"

If given five dollars to spend in a dollar store, what would you buy? 5 figurines of a black Jesus sitting on a clown's lap. Man, dollar stores have some high class figurines.

If you had to keep your initials, but change your name, what would it be? Stefani Rodriguez (That sounds rather exotic, doesn't it???)

If you were a crayon color, which would you be? Black...like my soul. (Ahhhh....dramaticness...how I've missed you in this blog post...)

If in a circus, who would you be in the show? The hot ring leader ala Britney Spears in her video for Circus. I think I could pull it off.

If your life could have the same outcome as a movie, what movie? Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. Definitely. I'm pretty sure they get the White Castle in the end.

If someone were to be named after you, who would you want it to be? A baby. That would be nice. If you changed your name to be named after me...that would just be a little creepy.

If you were given a year supply of something, what would it be? Hams! (Have you ever watched Supermarket Sweep in the mid-90's??? You always go for the hams...they are worth the most. Hamloaf for everyone!!)

If you were given a prop from a movie, what movie would it be? Can Jude Law in The Holiday be considered a prop???

What if you found out you and your partner were blood related? Seeing that I have a ton of cousins, I actually give my boyfriends a blood test before we start dating just to make sure we're not blood related.