Hurricane Force Oreos

When I was a little girl my dad used to have a friend named Dave. Dave lived on some property that had horses and tennis courts and all kinds of goodies. It was a wonderland for missy and me. My dad would go over there to play tennis sometimes, and take us with him. Would sound boring, but we were entertained. Sometimes we hung out with Dave’s super cool wife, who was from Sweden, or we ran around like banshees, or we pretended to play tennis ourselves.

Well one day after a wonderfully great day, we were all getting ready to leave but the super awesome Swedish wife lady brought out the ultimate treat: 

 

Oreos and milk.

DIAGRAM 1: OREOS AND MILK

 Please note the GLORIOUSITY being emitted from the milk and cookies. Awesomeness. 

  

Woop woop! 

Great Goodness! All is right with the world. My sister and I eagerly anticipated the moment the tray touched down to the table so we could wreak havoc! 

 

Luckily my dad was one of those "let's-go-but-I-am-still-gonna-chat-for-another-hour" types. Sometimes I HATED it. This time it was fine with me because I was all about those cookies.

 

[Insert long boring adult conversation] 

 

When my dad was finally ready to actually leave I was immediately concerned about the remaining Oreos. My thought process:

How can I leave them behind? 

Those are my deserved cookies.

When could I possibly get oreos again?

I can't believe I won't get to finish them.

I need at least a few more.

So I did the only thing I could think of: I jammed three in my mouth and chugged a big gulp of milk so I could at least close my mouth. I couldn’t talk but was satisfied that I had done all I could to not be cheated of my rightful Oreos. (Let's not forget that by now I had already been eating Oreos for like 45 minutes)

DIAGRAM 2: GREEDY BASTARD

  This diagram illustrates my natural ability to be greedy with milk and cookies.  

As I stood up to wave goodbye, I all of the sudden felt it coming...

... a sneeze.

This is gonna be bad.

There was no stopping it. With the milliseconds I had, I spun around away from the innocent bystanders just in time for the inevitable. It felt like rocks. It came out of my mouth annnnd my nose in full cookie chunks. Annnnnnnnnd all over Dave and the awesome Swedish wife lady’s lawn furniture. I mean everywhere. They say sneezes have the same force as a hurricane. Well I hurricaned my Oreos and milk all over the damn place. 

DIAGRAM 3: ZOOM IN ON NOSE SPRAY

  Close up on the painful, painful escape route for my milk and cookies
with the force of a hurricane pushing it all out. 

DIAGRAM 4: HURRICANE FORCE SPRAY ZONE

  This spray zone easily covered some lawn furniture.
However, had I not spun around it would have easily covered numerous people.  

It was horrific and quickly followed with my dad, “DAMNIT SARAH!”

I felt bad. But I felt the most upset about those last Oreos. Never to be eaten. I had enough sense not to express what my truest concerns where. Thank God I had some milk in my mouth, or it woulda been ALL cookie- no lube. That’s rough.

That's what I get for being a greedy bastard. But in all honesty, how can you ask a kid to control themselves with milk and cookies??????? 

It is impossible. (deep sigh to reflect the truth of this)

MORAL OF THE STORY:

Option 1: don’t sneeze with food in your mouth

Option 2: if possible, spit food out of mouth prior to snneze. Still messy, but not as much force or spread.

Option 3: don’t be so damn greedy with the cookies and milk.

I'm back! + I Love My Fingers

It has been ridiculously long since the last time that I wrote on my blog! I apologize profusely to all of you! My life has taken quite a turn and the tempo has quickened rapidly- with me barely able to keep up! I am ambitious and also a Gemini! No, I am not two faced! I am multifaceted and passionate. I have a love for many things in life: a passionate love. I love my family, acting, my sorority, design, art, my production company, my blog, event planning, to name a few. It is hard sometimes to be so passionate about so many things. I am often torn and indecisive because of it: another trait of Geminis.

However, I have recently decided to funnel as much as I possibly can into fewer things. It has been bitter sweet. Rewards have been granted for my drive and focus, but my heart breaks for those things that have had to be pushed aside.

After all, nothing worth having is easily attainable. Even though I must continue to keep my focus and drive, I am going to MAKE time when there is none to keep up with my blog. It is very cathartic for me, and I have much to share. 

With that being said, let’s share a story, shall we?

When I was near the end of my 8^th grade year, I moved into my mom and Greg’s house from Trisha and Dad’s. Greg was my mom’s long time boyfriend from when I was in 7^th grade to junior year of high school. We had to do some major cleaning and rearranging to accommodate me. As we were cleaning out the spare room we got hot! So my mom, Greg, and I decided to setup the stand fan. It was about shoulder height to me. At some point the front guard fell off, but we were too hot and tired to care. We were moving crap from one room to another room that was next door. My mom would hand stuff off to me from room 1 as I stood in the hallway. I would then hand it to Greg in room 2. 

 DIAGRAM 1: THE MOVING MACHINE

As we slaved away in the heat and sweat and dust I really began to get in the zone. I was feeling like a moving MACHINE! Awesome.

 DIAGRAM 2: I AM AWESOME

OH YEAH! I was fantasizing about my future room and the awesomeness of our moving technique when I reached for a box from my mom. At that moment the awesomeness came to a dramatic halt…

… as I stuck my hand into the fan.

Not awesome.

  DIAGRAM 3: NOT FEELING AWESOME (PAIN DOES THAT)

******FLASH BACK******

I was a kid and telling my stepmom Trisha about this "cool" guy who stuck his hand in a moving ceiling fan and stopped it as a trick. She went berserk and told me that if I ever put my hand in a fan, my fingers would be chopped off. She had even seen it happen since she worked as a nurse in shock trauma. The horrific-ness of this possibility haunted me for the rest of the childhood anytime I was too near a fan.

******BACK TO EVENT******

“OOOHHH MY GOSH! Trisha knew this would happen!” This is what I thought while I collapsed to the ground in a scream of pain and horror. I clutched my fingers with my unmangled hand, convinced this was the only thing keeping my fingers from toppling to the ground. As I laid in the fetal position breathing deeply, trying to coach myself through it all, my mom and Greg were trying to figure out what was wrong with me. They hadn't seen anything, just me dramatically flailing to the ground clutching my hand.

“I cut my fingers off in the fan!”

My mom all but rolled her eyes. I was infuriated! “Let me see your fingers Sarah.” I refused. MOM did not want to take this tragedy serious, obviously! My mom and Greg spent about 20 minutes convincing me to let go of my fingers. But I just was not ready to let go. I wanted to keep them forever. I loved my fingers. I had never truly appreciated them until that moment. MY POOR FINGERS!!!!!! I was imaging my future as a nub hand, explaining to everyone the ridiculous way I lost my fingers. Hoping that ice could possibly save them. 

  DIAGRAM 4: MY SAD FUTURE

But finally my mom convinced me to open my hand after yelling at me for being dramatic. (it was a loving yell in her defense) Finally convinced it was inevitably the time to investigate, I took a deep breath and unfolded my unmangled hand. 

I burst into a fit of tears…

... tears of relief. I started laughing at myself too.

Phew! Those flimsy little plastic fan blades didn’t even break my skin! NO blood, NO bruise, and ALL of my beloved digits! There was minimal “damage.” Just a little bit of skin pushed around in an odd way. Well, shoot, I’ll take that over lost fingers! It was all back to normal in like a day.

Perhaps, I overreacted.

(it did hurt though)

  DIAGRAM 5: THE "I HAVE 10 FINGERS" DANCE!

If you love your 10 fingers, please do the dance. Wiggle all your fingers while hoping from foot to foot and yell "I have 10 fingers!" If you do not have 10 fingers, there is no need to discriminate, please use the correct number and it promises just as much fun!!!