Yet another personal letter, this time to a thief:

Dear Asshole(s) who stole my Obama sign out of my front yard,

Fuck you. We live in a democracy and I'm aloud to support candidates on my own property, and also? I paid for that sign. I can see why you might be so threatened by the measly Obama sign in our mostly white, upper class neighborhood of Carrolwood where Obama is a huge danger to your way of life. My sign is likely to persuade the thousands upon thousands of people who drive down our col-de-saq every day to suddenly change their minds and vote for Obama. Very likely. And if that happened? Holy shit! If your taxes go up to a reasonable and responsible amount instead of being cut because you make over 250,000 a year, you might just be aiding the economy and people who are worse off than you - and our country might actually get out of this shit hole cesspool we've belly flopped in to...we just wouldn't want that now, would we?

Or maybe you just didn't think my sign fit in with the rest of the decor. This is the view from my front yard. Honest to god. No joke. only my front yard.

I know these are shitty pictures, but let the red arrows be your guide. Especially for that fucking billboard my neighbor has.

So, go to hell. We live in a democracy and what I am doing is voicing my opinion as an American, what you are doing is immature and illegal. Because did I mention I paid for that sign?

-Sarah

P.S. I just went online and bought several more signs and had them rushed delivered even though I can't really afford that right now. Both for me and my one other lowly neighbor who had her Obama sign stolen as well. So, keep stealing, I'll keep putting signs out.

Something about hell and freezing and improbabilities and such...

Baseball season just last year when people would walk around the beach handing out tickets for - do I dare say begging - people to attend a Devil Rays game.

So we drop the devil and go to the world series. Some might say God had something to do with this.


I don't say that, but I see where the connection can be made.

Me, Joanna, T-Pai, Jana, Mary and some guy wanting in our picture

They kept putting the five of us on the jumbo-tron so often that by the 4th inning, people were leaving their seats to come and find where we were sitting, just so they could be on the jumbo-tron, too. I want to be clear that I'm not trying to brag about being on the jumbo-tron constantly that day, but illustrating the point of how few people were there.

Getting back in a groove

First day of class today. It was, ya know, first day. Orientation type stuff, these are the rules type stuff, also, I'm pretty sure you guys are all 12 so lets do busy work and go over the mission statement 20 times because I'm not sure if you can really comprehend the mission statement of a salon academy type stuff.

Tomorrow should be better because today was sitting in a big classroom with everyone who started every program today and tomorrow will start the actual classes with just the spa therapy group (all 13 or us!) and we get all of our tools and lotions and goodies and wee! It's like Christmas tomorrow! Or, my birthday, because...ya know...my birthdays on Sunday! Yay! Text books! It's just what I wanted!!!

So, when I was driving home in the middle of rush hour traffic, sitting at the intersection for International Plaza (the big hoity toity to-do mall in Tampa) I was about to drive at the newly turned green light when I noticed an unmarked, out dated cop car was driving across the intersection. Now, it's not to weird to see old unmarked crown vics because when the police are done with them, they will auction them off. This one, however, was peculiar because it had lights and sirens on the top...and they were on.

So, he takes off and stops in the middle of the intersection to let the following items leave International Plaza without having to sit at the red light:
One (1) big chartered bus with no markings other than an orange streak
Seven (7) white "child molester" van with padlocks on the back doors.

All of these cars were unmarked.

They got to the next intersection and when faced with a red light they all stopped and waited.

If this were a work of art I would label it: Sketchy; Personified.

Attention All Customers:

This is a notice that I, Sarah, will be relocating soon to Tampa.

Is this a new development?
No. This is something that I have been planning for some time but have waited to tell you about because, well, I don't know. (See: Lazy)

When will the move take place?
Middle of June

Why are you moving back to Tampa?
I will be going to spa therapy school to become a licenced esthetician and massage therapist. Think happy and zin like all of the time. Also, think popping black heads out of peoples faces and poking them incessantly with little instruments of torture while they wince in pain. If you are like me, these are happy and zin like thoughts.

Where will you be living?
Whoa there! Lets not get to personal here! I mean...yes...I will be living with my parents for 9 months.

Nine Months? Are you pregnant?
Seriously, people keep asking me this. I will continue to kick you.

If Jeff moving with you?
No.

Won't you miss him?
Terribly, but it's part of the bigger plan, and we'll only be 3 hours away from each other.

What does this mean for me, your loyal reader?
Not much, there will be no rise in fees and there should only be a slight lapse in service while I relocate. The subject of my blogs might change focus slightly, possibly having more to do with my kooky mom or the fat lady with herpes who wanted me to wax her hoo hoo, but it's hard to say because, well, it hasn't happened yet.

Thank you for your support and understanding and we look forward to continuing our business with you for years to come!

Arrr Mateys!

Jeff and I went to Tampa for the weekend to see my parents and also to go to Gasparilla. If you're unfamiliar, the myth of Tampa was that it was invaded by a pirate named Jose Gaspar, in which he raped and pillaged and claimed Tampa for his own. This, of course, isn't true. But for over 100 years different "krewes", ie people with yachts, "invade" Tampa Bay and then have a parade and throw lots of beads. While everyone else gets "very intoxicated". (I know those last quotation marks weren't necessary, I was just on a role.)

This was my first Gasparilla since I was 15 that I was sober not shit faced. And also with my parents. And possibly my most fun Gasparilla. I didn't get arrested. I didn't get thrown up on. I didn't pass out on the middle of bayshore blvd. I didn't throw up on anyone else. Also, for my first time EVER I caught not one, but two strands of beads. (Have I mentioned that I've gone to more Gasparillas than I can count?) If that's not "fun", I don't want to know what "fun" is. (I know, I know, it doesn't make any sense. Just go with it.)

I took a lot of fun pictures but something happened between the camera and my parents computer so...just imagine me, with a totally awesome new, short hair cut, lots of beads, and dancing with little children.

Also, imagine several pictures of my parents little Maltese wearing about 30 beads around her neck in the most precious display of gasparillary ever experienced.

Aren't those pictures just great?

Update on The Great Parking lot War of Jacksonville: In a moment of extreme passive aggression, Jeff and I decided not to take his car to Tampa on Thursday, but instead, leave it in the same spot, where you'll still find it today.

I was half expecting the tires to be flat.