The Yom Kippur War

About a month ago, I moved from a training position to my real position in the field...unofficially. As a result, I got a new boss. We shall call him Uncle Albert. Uncle Al has been demoted both in title and wage grade twice within the last three years. He does not understand the sales and market aspect of the automotive industry, which earns the company 95% of its profits. I requested Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur off, as well as the October 1-5 so I could go home. He said yes and I had confirmed this several times...over a month ago. He said it would be fine if I take Friday, September 21 and October 1-5 off. I only have five vacation days as a new hire, which I applied to my trip home, and bought plane tickets for Friday, September 28, and Sunday, October 7. Everything was going fine...until today at 5:00pm. Uncle Albert said he wanted to chat with me. He asked me to explain what Yom Kippur was. I told him it was the holiest day of the year for the Jewish people and was our day of atonement. Uncle Al then told me I could only have Yom Kippur off if I used a vacation day. I told him that I was planning on using all my vacation for the first week in October to see my family. He said, "Okay, I will see you tomorrow." Wow.

So what do I do? I have come to the conclusion that all I can really do is go into work and smile and act like everything is okay...that and I went out and bought an exceptional bottle of wine and drank it all.

My Strange and Random Life

I have decided that I do not live a normal life. For those of you who know me, this is neither shocking nor surprising. Last weekend, I attended a Jello Wrestling Party. Yes, that's right. Jello Wrestling. And no, I did not partake in the aforementioned activities. Apparently, there are companies that specialize in providing the equipment necessary for these events, such as blow up pools and gelatin. At the party, I drank a lot of beer and ate a lot of Jello shots. I also a met a group of hot British boys. When I asked what they were doing in SoCal, one told me he worked at the LA Zoo...as a "Penguin Erector." At first, I thought he meant that he helped the little guys get hard when they were trying to procreate, and was a bit perplexed. Then, the guy said that when penguins fall over, you have 30 seconds to pick them up before they die. I thought this was a load of shit and burst into to laughter and continued to question the Brit about his alleged profession. Although he put together a good story, I came to the conclusion that it was just a feeble attempt at a conversation starter to pick up girls.

I have come to the conclusion that boys/men/the male half of the species anywhere near my age are not attracted to me for some reason. I get hit on...a lot. But not my men my age. They are closer to my father's age (or in some cases my grandfather's) or in high school. This week, I was told by some old car dealer that he enjoyed looking up my skirt! I was drooled over by co-workers around my dad's age, and asked out for a margarita when I was getting my Charger washed by some old dude! Then this weekend I decided to go to the beach. I hit up Laguna and Newport (hence the beautiful picture...looks more like le Cote d'Azur or Israel than SoCal). I was chatting with the uber hot, yet very young lifeguard before the boys sitting next to me decided to make their move. We got to talking and they wanted me to come to some keg party they were crashing that the seniors were throwing...seniors in high school!!! Why don't men between 25 and 40 like me? Yes, I know I am only 24, but I 'em old! But not geriatric style with canes.

In the past week, I have been in contact with a number of people I had lost touch with-
1. The kind, old man who ran the hotel I stayed at in Grenoble, France
2. A former crush who I now think is a Christian arrogant asshole and tried to hit me up for a job
3. A semi-current crush who I drunkenly confessed my love for at a graduation party and one of the few Jews at Pepperdine
4. The former best friend with whom I had a falling out with of sorts
Random and unexpected, indeed.

In A Sense, We Are All On An Island

The title of this blog entry is strange and random, because the entry itself will be strange and random. It is more or less a collection of thoughts. It got its title from one of my random comments during a conversation with two of my favorites- Kaddie and Ryan. I spoke with Kaddie today, and she mentioned that little Saraism- in a sense, we are all on an island. So I felt it was only appropriate to use it as a title.

I was recently in Detroit for two weeks for a conference for work. Yes, that was two fucking weeks in Detroit. And what, you may ask, would I do in Detroit for two weeks? Well, I did my work shit, but I also have some stories...would you expect any less? I was in Motown for new hire training, so I got to meet a lot of other people from all around the country. I think most of them hate me. While the majority of my colleagues went out drinking and got hammered in front of VPs every night, I for once was a good girl. I did not show up to our training sessions hung over, so I was engaged and asked about a million questions and networked with the VPs. I know everyone was sick of my questions by the end of day two. And now for the juicy stuff from the Sara you all know and love! As per the norm, I managed to be a drunken slut. One of the few times I did go out, my buddy Steve and I hit the town of Royal Oak. And somehow, I managed to hook up with his friend in true Drunken Sara fashion. As many of you know, while some people may do stupid things when inebriated, I do stupid people. Also as many of you know, I am allergic to almost everything on the planet. And the next day after my alcohol-induced escapades, I ate something that I am allergic to. I looked like Will Smith in the movie Hitch and couldn't breath! So, the day after hooking up with his friend, Steve the Saint drove me to the hospital! I had to get steroid injections because my Epi Pen was expired and got a prescription for 'roid. I heart Steve. I also was able to go to the Woodward Dream Cruise, which is more or less a parade of incredible classic cars and American automotive at its finest. I was also able to meet up with my one friend in Detroit..and that is all I have to say about D-town...until my next trip.

Things are much better at work. Ever since my momentary lapse of genius with the computer program, Tiny Tim seems to hate me just a little bit less. It has made my life much better.

Now that we are older, I have developed great relationships with my two sisters. One of them of out to visit a little while ago, and we had the best time. It is so nice that we are able to get along now. I also get along well with the parentals. It is more like we are friends. I love seeing my family because we have so much fun together and are able to drink and hang out. I am trying to make a trip back East in October and I am getting more and more excited about the idea. This is a first.

Last week was crazy insanely busy at work. And of course, it also happened to be the week when my friend from Detroit was in SoCal. His name is Nati. I might as well name him since I have mentioned him a few times. We met on the Birth Right trip in Israel and he works for Delloitte in Detroit- how random is that?!?! Even thought I did not get to spend much time with him (which I feel SO guilty about), we were able to spend some "quality time" together, as cheesy as it sounds. It was so nice to talk to someone my age with a good job and who has similar views on politics and life in general. I live alone, so it was nice to come home to someone for a change!

This is Labor Day Weekend. I have decided that I need to take some Sara Time, so to speak. As a result, I have done whatever I fucking feel like doing. I have been yoga-ing and hitting up Malibu. Some people need to be around other people all the time. I am perfectly capable of entertaining myself. I enjoy just being me! I think it is rare in this day and age when a person can be perfectly content to get from he or she needs from within and not have to look to others to fulfill that need. I'd like to think I am able to do this because although I am not a very religious person, I consider myself to be spiritual and in touch with Sara...okay no more third person references. I am not Bob Dole, but I do recommend reading his autobiography from when he fought during WWII. It was excellent! Right now, I cam working on "My Friend Leonard," which is the sequel to "A Million Little Pieces." Ron Chernow's "Alexander Hamilton," and William S. Bourrough's "Naked Lunch." I need to finish at least one of them this weekend. All of the books are very different, but very good in their own right. That's another thing. I don't think people read enough these days. Or write letters. Letter writing is a lot art.