Doe dee oh.

I have an issue.  It's not a serious issue, but I'm certainly trying to make it one with my utter and complete abandon of anything resembling control.  My not-so-serious issue is that I cannot control myself with uncooked cookies, aka cookie dough.

To be honest, it's all things that resemble dough or batter, not just that of the cookie.  I remember even as a child how I felt about the way any and all of it felt and tasted in my mouth, creating some kind of uncooked ecstasy that sweetly melted away leaving want for more!  I loved when we were given a spoonful of cookie dough, or a small piece of the homemade bread dough that my mom made.  I even remember when Ben and Jerry came out with cookie dough ice cream and I ached for it!  Cookie dough and ice cream together?  I must already be dead, cause this is heaven.

However, over the past few years, the better part of my thirties, my dough and batter obsession has exponentially increased.  Perhaps it's aging, perhaps it's now that I'm not a kid I can eat as much as I want, or perhaps it's that it's just so freaking good that I want to eat as much as I can before I die.  There's actually times where it's as though I was trying to kill myself with a dough overdose.  Seriously, it's gotten that out of hand on occasion.  I can't stop myself.  I'll get sick and stay that way cause it doesn't mean I've stopped eating dough.  And if it's frozen cookie dough balls, forget it, my stomach will hurt that night guaranteed.  

I wish I could identify exactly what it is about dough that I cannot control.  But after all these years of eating it, I still can't figure it out, so I'll keep eating it in hopes of reaching some kind of enlightenment through dough.  As ridiculous as this all sounds, it's not like I'm really eating the stuff daily.  I'll go on few days binge every month or so, then I have to call it off.  My tummy will ache and it's just not worth it; I can't live like that all the time.  Even the fancy, and insanely delicious, vegan and gluten free stuff I discovered still turns my belly upside down if I go too overboard.

It's ooey, it's gooey.  It's sweet, and somewhat naughty.  It often includes chocolate.  It's easy to make, or readily available 24 hours a day in a store.  This is my ode to the doe dee oh.    

    

Golden shower.

As it was nearing closing time and there were no more customers in the shop suddenly the theme of shower routines comes up.  I got to hear about the showering habits of my coworkers; everything from brushing teeth in the shower to washing the face last in some sort of obsessive routine.  Amongst the banter, one of the stylists yells out, "I pee in the shower!".  Of the other five of us that were also there, four of us reply something of a similar nature, confirming that we also pee in the shower.  As we laugh out loud at the absurd nature of the confession we are all so freely admitting, another stylist yells out, "I pee in any shower I'm in!".  Wow, how fast things spiraled out of control there.  

But in our most honest moments, I'm sure that the five of us at the barbershop tonight are not the only ones peeing in the shower.  I mean, it's warm and wet in there and when that water hits the skin, it's hard to resist.  And though you may not pee freely in the shower on a regular basis, you cannot say that you have never indulged in this guilty and satisfying pleasure of relieving one's excess bodily liquid in the tub and letting the water wash it down.  

Chips and salsa.

I wonder if I'm the only one that considers chips and salsa a meal in and of itself as opposed to those that think it's only a precursor to a meal.  Sooooooooooooo gooooooooooood!

Lalochezia.

Dear assholes of the world,

Before you come into my barbershop with and give me your mysogynstic "I don't care, you're the professional" attitude, let me fill you in on a few things.  First of all, you were a total asshole before you came into my shop, I did not do or say anything for you to be so mother fucking condescending towards me because I am a female in the service industry.  When I ask you questions about your hair it's because I actually care about what you walk out of my shop with, unlike you.  And you can't even sit back and act like you don't actually give a fuck, because as soon as I fuck up your haircut, trust me, you are suddenly gonna care you worthless prick.  

When you are too stupid or arrogant to answer the questions that I'm phrasing in baby talk so your dumb ass can understand, then I'm gonna do my job and tell you what's best, just like mommy does.  I'm not asking you questions to make you feel even more fucking stupid than you already are, I'm aware of the fact that you are not a professional hairdresser(and the fact that you are fucking stupid), so put your fragile fucking ego aside for two fucking minutes and help me figure out what I'm supposed to do for you so that you can maybe not look quite like the rotten asshole that you are.  Same goes for when I'm educating you about hair, scalp, products, etc.  It's because I care, oh, and I'm actually doing my job, shocking I know, since you seem to think it's some technique that I'm using to make you look stupid.  Trust me honey, you are doing a fine job at making yourself look stupid and there's no way I'd get in the way of the one thing you are actually good at.

Also, just because you are an asshole does not give you the right to stiff me.  Tipping is standard in any service industry in United States and just because you came in as an asshole, you remained an asshole throughout the entire haircut, and left an asshole does not mean that I should kiss your ass.  I know for a fact that in spite of your fucking issues with the world, that I did a fantastic job on your haircut, which you will certainly notice in the coming weeks, so fucking buck up and tip you cheap son of a bitch.  Oh and speaking of being a son of a bitch, just exactly what did your mommy do or not do to make you hate all women, especially ones that are trying to take care of you and make you look better so you stand a fucking chance in a world that is so clearly against you?  Fuck you. 

So to the assholes of the world, fortunately you are a very rare breed and only accost us with your toxic fucking energy a few times a year, you can fuck right off.  We don't need your money, we don't want your money.  You can go fuck your money.  Chances are it is the closest you will come to getting fucked at all.  You are an ugly fucking bastard and it oozes from the inside of you like the pus on the dirt filled gouge that is your heart.  As for me, I laugh at your pathetic existence because if you have to come treat a random hairstylist like shit because you are the one with the fucking problem, then, well, I don't even need to finish that thought.  You are a worthless piece of shit, but your mom probably already told you that.  So next time, take your cheap ass to Walgreens and buy some fucking clippers, buzz your own fucking hair, clean your own fucking mess, stiff yourself and appreciate what a truly bad haircut is.

Fuck you and fuck off you fucking waste of space.

With all my heart,
Sarah the barber 

Really random shit.

Yup.

Meat beard.

I am a childless woman in my 30s, and it's going to stay that way.  However, I do still have the urge to obsess over cute things and since I'm terrified of babies, my friends' dogs usually fit the bill.  When I went to Argentina, I knew I would desperately miss Toby, my dear friend's dog in LA, so I was on the hunt for a friend with a dog.

Shortly after arriving in Buenos Aires, I met my friend Kara and we quickly became besties.  The first time I went to her house, I got to meet Asha and in Asha's enthusiasm to meet me, Kara apologized for her "meat beard".  I was cracking up since with her little schnauzer haircut, Asha has a beard and since Asha's diet is raw meat and veggies, her beard was semi-matted with meat juice.  Hilarious.  Asha quickly gained the nick name Meat Beard from Kara and I and her meat beard was cute and disgusting all at the same time. 

Asha is one of my favorite little beasts of all time!  She really helped lighten the stress load that was my life in Buenos Aires by consistently being super cute and funny. I love Asha!  One of the best things about Asha is that she is a pure Argentine through and through.  Asha embodies the neurotic nature of the residents of Buenos Aires, plus in this pic she is relaxing on a leather couch, in front of a mate, and trust me, Asha isn't the only Argentine with meat juice in her beard. . .  Anyone that knows anything about Argentina knows that Argentina produces what is often considered the world's finest beef and nearly every Argentine is obsessed with meat. 

I never miss Buenos Aires, but I do miss Asha and her meat beard every so often.  I saw this pic of her and knew that I needed to pay homage to my fuzzy little friend keeping it real in San Telmo.

Substitute teacher.

I've done it again.  I've quit coffee and yerba mate, which basically means that I've quite caffeine.  It was a decision that I came to earlier this year when I realized, yet again, that the stuff was tearing up my digestive system.  I also happened to read a fantastic book called Caffeine Blues, written by a brilliant nutritionist, all of which solidified my decision and commitment.  After totally withdrawing, it was painful for about four months with various adjustments being felt in my body, mood and energy level.  But I stayed off of it and it's been nearly six months now and I've finally settled into life without caffeine(unless you count the copious amounts of chocolate that I eat).  I sleep better and I slept good before.  I digest better and I don't crave it, but I do miss it.

When I began life without caffeine, part of what made the process so daunting was wondering what I was going to replace my warm drink addiction with.  It isn't just the caffeine I love about coffee and mate, it is the ritual, the warmth, the milk and honey, the rich earthiness, yum.  I knew finding something with the richness and body of coffee would be a challenge, and I knew that I would just have to miss yerba mate altogether as nothing is quite like it.  sigh.  I experimented with a few different herbal teas and it was alright, it got us by.  But then I discovered roasted dandelion root and I was back in business.  I tried it at a wedding in California and a friend mentioned that it was sort of like coffee.  I bought some, brewed two bags in a cup for super flavor and it was the bomb!  No, it's not coffee, at all, but the roasted flavor and the dark brown smoothness was as close as I was gonna get save for decaf coffee(barf).  I've also taken on some powdered rooibos tea which is so rich it's almost creamy.  All of it caffeine free and all of it taking full place of something I didn't ever think I would have to replace.

I can say that I am quite proud of myself and am really happy to be off the juice.  I have had mate once since quitting and it made me feel like I was gonna freak out.  Who knows if I'll ever get back on the coffee or the mate again.  I'd love to, but until I decide that I really wanna feel like cracked out, I'll stick with my substitute teas.  I be sippin' on some right now.