Oktoberfest...oy.

I need to write this blog now while things are still sort of fresh in my mind. Well, you know, as fresh as they can be after 4-5 one Liter beers at the Hofbrau Festhalle. Good lord.

So this last weekend I decided to go down to Oktoberfest. It seemed like an appropriate event for me because, well, I like beer and I like to dress up and I like to have fun. I took the train from Saarbruecken down to Munich, and I think it was roughly a five hour ride. I left at 6:45 in the morning, which is just a TAD bit early for this gal on a Saturday. I decided not to wear my dirndl on the train a) because I was not in Bavaria and the last thing I wanted was for people in Saarland to be like "what the hell" and b) because, knowing me, I'd spill something on there that would DEFINITELY leave a stain. And if I'm going to spill anything on my dirndl, it's going to be beer, dammit.

I got into Munich and followed the instructions I had written down to my hotel via the S-Bahn (Munich's above-ground train). Well, apparently I am a shitty writer of instructions as I went 45-minutes IN ENTIRELY THE WRONG DIRECTION. When the train stopped and shut down in this tiny little town in God-only-knows-where, the only thing going through my mind was "Expedia so lied about the distance of this hotel to Oktoberfest." I went into the train station and found a younger man who spoke very broken English who informed me that I had fucked up big time and I had about an hour and a half train ride in the OTHER direction ahead of me. Cranky beyond belief at this point, I got back on the train, headed back in the right direction, and an hour and 45 minutes later ended up at a train station that is actually IN Munich.

In the meantime, Beth, my friend from Milan, had called to inform me that she had missed her flight to Munich and was driving up with a friend of hers. It was going to take her longer to get there, so she told me just to head down to Oktoberfest since Brice and Nathan (the boys from Saarbruecken) were already there. I quickly changed, left the key at the front desk for Beth to pick up and took the train BACK to Oktoberfest.

Now I'm going to try to actually describe what I saw when I waltzed into Oktoberfest. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. Try to imagine a fraternity party, times a billion. And with liederhosen. And more boobs. And LOTS more beer. It was outrageous. I just stood in the opening for a good five minutes assessing the situation and debating whether or not it was entirely wise for me to enter the pearly white gates. Well, fuck, of course I was going to enter them, I just wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting into. Who was I kidding. I was already contemplating the mathematical probability that I would flash someone boob. And you don't have to be good at math to figure out that brain teaser.



Brice had texted me and informed me they were at the Hofbrau Tent. Just as a point of clarification, the Hofbrau tent is sort of like the Cancun of Oktoberfest. Everyone who is a tourist or a foreigner or young and stupid and looking to get wasted and into a fist fight goes to the Hofbrau tent. Now I had wanted to go to a more traditional Bavarian tent, but by the time I actually got on the right train, found the hotel, got changed, got on another train and found the Hofbrau Tent, I was so anxious to drink a beer I probably would have burst into tears had I had to wait any longer. I stood outside waiting and could not find Brice anywhere. There were so many freaking people. Here is a photo of the line OUTSIDE the tent (taken when I was already inside, but I think this is necessary to convey the craziness):



I shit you not, within two minutes of getting into this massive line of people, the Polezei (who I later would become VERY acquainted with) started shoving through the crowd of people with three guys in headlocks, covered in blood. The Polezei literally THREW them out of the beer garten area and into the crowd of people. Blood was everywhere. I could not believe what I had just seen. I definitely needed to get the hell out of this spot.

I finally found Brice and he showed me the ACTUAL entrance into the beer garten. I was quickly met by our friend Nathan, who was wasted beyond wasted and spitting German phrases at me. Nathan, you're lucky I didn't punch you. :) When you want a beer and have not had a beer and drunk people are all over you, one's instinctive reaction is forcible castration.



As if by magic, a beer wench appeared with a giant one liter glass of fine, fine German brew. I started drinking and instantly felt at ease with the world.



Because I figure describing the inside of the beer garten would best be accomplished with photo, here is what I was dealing with:



And here is a photo of me in my dirndl with Brice's friend Brad, who was also from Idaho and studying in a different part of Germany:



Dare I say this is roughly the last thing I remember with any sort of cohesion or clarity. It's amazing what one liter of beer will do to you. Unfortunately, I think I consumed several more than just that one liter, but University of Idaho, I would have done you proud!

We met so many people whose faces randomly appear on my camera. I can't remember too many of them, where they were from, what they were doing, if I stole anything from them or if I or anyone at my table made out with them. But Oktoberfest is not about remembering things! It is about doing things that you will probably regret in the morning and just praying that you don't wake up the next morning in a puddle of your own urine with a communicable disease. No worries, this did not happen to me.

Beth and her friend arrived after I was lit up, and apparently at some point, I had been given a bracelet, which granted me access INSIDE the tent. If you were not at the tent earlier in the day, it was next to impossible to get inside. I believe some older woman gave me hers and she and her husband were leaving the tent. At least that is the story I have conjured up in my mind, and that is the story I am sticking with. Once it started to rain, being inside sounded like a fantastic idea. I got Beth and her friend in by declaring adamantly in German repeatedly "Sie ist meinem Schwester, sie ist meinem Schwester" which may or may not be grammatically correct and was definitely not true.

Once inside, it was crowded, it was smelly, it was loud and I did not have a beer (which is not a problem at Oktoberfest as you can get a beer from practically anyone). I'm not entirely sure from whence the beer I received came, but it obviously was not roofied as I am still here. I'm fairly certain I bought it. Maybe.

Because everything that happened after that is a bit blurry (including me almost getting in some fight with a guy because he put a sticker on my boob, which I promptly removed and threw in his drink. Or all the random people that I was photographed with. Or finding the bathroom) I'm just going to do a little fast forwarding to AFTER we left Oktoberfest. Because this is where my evening gets freaking EXCITING.

Because Beth doesn't drink beer, she was our DD on the way to the hotel. She was driving her friend's car which, thank GOD was a Passat and not some shitty mini-European car that looks like a lego toy. We were a mere 4 minutes away from our hotel, and I was happily drunk texting in the back seat when I heard sirens coming very fast behind us and then felt my body snap forward and snap back (yes, folks, seat belts are massively important). I had no idea what had just happened until I looked up and noticed that there was a police car on our right completely smashed in the front. Beth kept asking if everyone was okay and I kept asking what the fuck was going on. My head instantly started to hurt, and I couldn't move my neck too well. I sat in the car and all these police officers came up to me and started asking me questions in German. I couldn't answer them because I had no idea what had happened and oh, I don't freaking speak German, assholes!

This is what went down:

Apparently a police car traveling roughly 40-50 mph rear-ended our car while we were waiting at a stop light. The entire back portion of Beth's friend's car was destroyed, and the back window had been completely shattered. The hat I had been wearing had someone ended up out in the middle of the street, probably flying through the shattered back window. I was extraordinarily dizzy and nauseated and could not stand up, so Beth insisted that they call an ambulance and take me to the hospital.

I would like to take this opportunity to discuss what happened in both the ambulance and in the hospital. At no point in this entire experience did anyone take my vitals. In fact, in the ambulance, they sat me in a chair in the back and left me alone, where I kept falling asleep and waking up when I would smack my head against the side of the seat. I'm fairly certain that if I had had a concussion, it was only exacerbated by the shitty care I received in the ambulance. Once I got to the hospital, before treating me, they made me fill out all these forms, which were all in German. I kept telling the woman I didn't speak German and I didn't know what I was signing and I felt like I was going to throw up, but she insisted on making sure I had health insurance and that I signed these forms. I'm sorry--isn't your health care socialized in Germany? Might I have a concussion?? I finally just gave in and signed the fucking forms so they would do something about my headache. A doctor came in and examined me in the chair I was sitting in and determined that I needed an x-ray. He told me where to find the x-ray room. That's right. He told me where to go and then went to go look at another patient. I was barely able to stand on my own. Awesome.

After they took the x-ray, he said the he and the radiologist agreed that I may have potentially fractured something in my neck and needed to go get a CT. He then sent me ON MY OWN down the hallway to find the CT scan room ON MY OWN. Can I reiterate, this entire time I may potentially have fractured something in my neck, am dizzy and and nauseous and blacking out, the doctors left me ON MY OWN to go find the CT room. Apparently the only thing I was able to communicate to him with any clarity was my distrust of the German socialized health care system and my dislike of Germany at that point. I think I even asked him if he was even a real doctor or if he got his degree at a school online in Aruba.

If this is what happens when a country socializes their health care, i.e. a complete decline in the standard of care, I am going back to American and rallying HARD against its implementation in the states. If we don't pay doctors a wage which accurately reflects the work they do and the education they receive, we're going to have super-shitty health care. And now let me step off my soap box.

It turns out I didn't have a fracture, but do have a serious case of whiplash. God only knows what forms I signed in my impaired state, but I'm sure one of them entitles German to sell my future children into slavery. And I got some Advil for the pain. Thanks, buddy. I have the Costco sized container at home, I could have saved you the trouble.

So yes, anyways, that was my Oktoberfest. Beth and her friend had to rent a car to get back to Italy, and now they have to deal with all that insurance hoopla because the POLICE rear-ended us. It's two days later and my back is killing me, so yours truly gets to begin the epic adventure of finding a physical therapist in Saarbruecken that speaks English and doesn't suck ass. Hoorah.

I swear, shit like this ONLY happens to me.

Erste Monat

Yesterday it dawned on me that, holy shit, I've been in Germany for one month. I flew in on the 18th of August, and yesterday officially marked my first month in Germany. It certainly does not feel like I have been here a month. In fact, it feels like I just got here yesterday.

Things are getting progressively easier: I'm not as timid about going out alone and trying to communicate with people. For the most part, if people speak slowly, I can understand what they are saying, or at least infer the general meaning. I'm still too nervous about actually trying to speak German. Alex gave me shit about this last night. If you're reading this, Alex, I promise I'm going to try. The problem being I know I sound like an American trying to speak German, and that annoys me. I know that the only way I'm going to actually perfect my German is to speak it, but for now, I'm content with my pointing capabilities. I did learn an important phrase last night, though. "Nach einmal, bitte." Roughly translated: "One more, please." And this is, of course, in reference to das Bier. I do think I might try to incorporate more Deutsch into this blog. You all can learn German with me!

Gestern, I decided to go exploring the forest around my apartment building. There is a trail right behind the parking lot, so I started walking up it. About 15 minutes later, I popped up in this very organized hiking trail area. There must have been at least 7 or 8 different trails for me to choose from. I started walking up one and ended up hiking for two hours. It was so lovely. I came back down the mountain and went to die Backerei to pick up some Brot. I googled the area and found out there are enough trails to keep me busy for a while, at least until the weather turns shitty. But it was while I was walking around in the forest and through town that I realized this place is kind of growing on me. I'm still not happy with the shower situation, nor am I happy with the fact that I can't shave because my shower is about the size of a small pod used for space travel, but Saarbruecken is starting to get a little more comfortable, and despite the fact that there are some very sketchy places and some very strange people, there are areas that are quite nice and people that are very friendly.

I met up with Alex (the girl I met a few weeks ago whilst drinking at Vapianos) last night to go "out on the town" and we met two American men doing "business" in Saarbruecken. I can safely say that even by German standards, these two guys were super, super creepy. Unfortunately, I was a little inebriated (as was Alex) and they were paying for drinks, so whatever. I was at least sober enough to make the guy drink any drink he bought me first, in case he was trying to slip me a roofie. Yes, these guys looked like the sort of assholes that would drug a girl's drink. We ended up at this club, that I can't rightly remember the name of, and they were playing a shit-ton of techno and there were all these emo-looking German people everywhere. Alex is going to argue with me and tell me they were playing "house" music but my God. It all has that god-awful beat that just makes my head hurt. That still didn't stop me from bobbing my head occasionally. The two sketchy Americans realized that they weren't going to get laid, so they left to go to a bigger club. I hope they found some nice, skanky girls with syphilis to bang. :)

I think I got home home right around 2:30 in the morning. This club, evidently, stays open until the wee hours of the morning--like 7 a.m. Now I enjoy partying, but I don't think there is any way I could have stayed awake until 7 a.m. I got home and immediately showered and passed out. And yes, today has been rough. But we went and got pizza, so I at least have grease in my stomach. I'm just prepping myself for Oktoberfest next weekend. Oh, I am so, so excited.

All in all, things are going well. I'm going to be really excited when I can finally communicate with people. I'll let that happen whenever it may (preferably sooner rather than later). I have a feeling by January, things should be looking up in the ol' language department.

Drunk Sarah blogs at last!

YES! Tonight marks the first night that I have gotten slightly inebriated in the great city of Saarbruecken! And do you want to know how it all started? With a beer + cola mix at the movie theater, seeing "Step Up 3" in 3D!

The one great thing about movies like "Step Up 3" is that, despite the fact that it was dubbed in German, I was able to follow the majority of the storyline because shitty movies like that have a weak plot and are made for people with IQ's below that of the average person. But hey! It was in 3D! And there was great dancing! And I got to drink booze in the theater without having to endure an independent film at the Flicks! (Side note: must remember difference between "Boy" and "Girl" in German so I'm not surprised by a urinal in the bathroom again).

After the movie, Katrin, her boyfriend Florian and I went to this Italian restaurant, I believe called Vapianos? I could be totally wrong on that. But they had great pizzas and great salads and HUGE beers. So of course, I had to continue drinking. After the second Hefeweisen, I was feeling all sorts of friendly and decided I was ready to meet people in Saarbruecken! I noticed two women sitting at the table next to us, and they looked like nice enough people, so I walked over and started talking to them. Now sober Sarah would not have dreamed of initiating a conversation with someone in Germany because it has been my experience that people in Saarbruecken do not take too lightly to random people who don't speak German interrupting their conversations, but these two women were very, very nice, and we ended up having a lovely conversation with them. I even explained what a douche was in English (because the German word, and the French word, come to think of it, for showering is doucher, which makes me snicker every single time). One of them gave me her email, and I'm hoping to meet up with her so I can work on my German. She speaks some English, (way more English than I do German), but it would be nice to have someone that can help me with my German (and drink with me, ha ha). I also think she may have challenged me to a drink off. I can't be too sure. Someone did, this I know. And I have accepted! Liver training to commence tomorrow morning!

Overall, drunk Sarah is quite content tonight. I'm beginning to warm up quite nicely to Germany.

The Beginning....Day One.

Well, technically Day Two, I guess. I decided not to blog yesterday, my first official day in Saarbrueken, because I was a complete mess. I think it finally dawned on me, as I was sitting in my apartment (if you can call this an apartment...I think dorm room in Wallace--UI people you understand--may more accurately describe my present living situation) and I just broke down. I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that I was completely exhausted and just not able to function, and the other part of it was loneliness. It's very strange being in a country where you cannot communicate with other people, or if you do communicate, it's in very short, blunt words. Germans may know how to speak English, but by God you'd better not try to speak it around them. I think my German teacher lied when she said Germans get excited when they learn that you know how to speak English. I'm pretty sure I've gotten the death-glare from quite a few.

Plus, I want this to be a semi-objective blog of my year abroad, and I don't think yesterday I would have been objective. I think yesterday I would have probably re-packed my stuff and gotten on the next plane to Boise. The only thing stopping me was the fact that the thought of having to lug around that fucking suitcase and stupid travel backpack for another day made me decide that taking an Ambien and going to sleep was a better idea. Plus, I finally was connected to the Internet after not being able to talk to anyone, and I, of course, called my mother. And emailed Vickie. And chatted with Alison and Nicole and Lif. I think all I really needed was to talk to my friends. It made me feel far less lonely, even though I knew they were on the other side of the world. This morning I woke up (actually sleeping an entire night...sweet!) and I felt much better. I finally became an official registered student, ate real food (well a pretzel and a thing of yogurt with some fruit) and met up with Katrin, who took me to IKEA. There is nothing like speaking English and going to IKEA that really makes one appreciate life. And I think Katrin was excited, too, because she misses Boise. We all miss Boise. Boise, you don't suck as much as I thought (well, in Winter you suck).

I sort of kept a "journal" of my adventures for the past two weeks. Reading back over what I wrote I noticed that on the days when I didn't have a lot to do, I wrote long blogs. On the days when I met people and we went out and closed down entire towns (um, Garmisch-Partenkirchen, I'm talking to you...) I didn't write anything. But I will be posting those blogs soon. I'm waiting for all my pictures to upload because I want to include pictures. It's times like this I miss the big mofo of a Mac. This HP laptop is just not cutting it for me right now. 600 photos to upload? Right, this is only going to take 40 hours. F.

Tomorrow I take my "placement exam" where they test me and figure out which level of the German language course I should be in. I'd really like to save them the trouble (and me the effort of getting up to take this thing at 8:15 am) and just tell them to put me in the bottom level. German is one effing hard language, and I can't understand a freaking thing anyone says to me. Occasionally I'll catch words, and I'll get so excited that I completely miss the rest of what someone is saying to me. Nice. This right here *waves hands frantically* is awesome.

So anyway, without much further adieu, here is my list of things that are totally different in Germany.

1. Beer is cheaper than water in restaurants. On a related note, restaurants don't serve water with your meal. You have to pay for it. So it only makes sense to just drink a shit-load of beer since it's less expensive and tastes better. So of course, I was wasted for almost two weeks, which I do not recommend if you are an American girl traveling alone. Thank GOD I can hold my booze.

2. Everyone, and I mean everyone in Germany smokes. Everywhere. Christ, you can buy cigarettes at vending machines on the street.

3. So far my experience has been that everyone in Germany is either really, really nice or really, really rude. I haven't found anyone in between. Also, no one smiles at you. I smile a lot. I get looked at like I have some sort of mental disorder. Someone actually moved away from me on the sidewalk.

4. You can buy liederhosen and drindls in the department stores (and yes, I already bought mine for Oktoberfest).

5. The toilets look funny. That is all.

6. The cars are super, super small. Like doll-sized. And they all drive super fast.

7. Under no circumstances should one even consider j-walking. You will get yelled at by everyone within eyeline.

8. The commercials in Germany are either about sex or food. Sometimes both. I mean, there is a lot of sex. There is a mega-erotik discount store about a mile from my apartment. Now there are no windows, but there are giant posters of the products inside plastered on the wall outside. Yes, I walked by a dildo that looked to be about the size of my leg blown up in giant poster form.

9. I watched "The Closer" and "Law & Order: SVU" dubbed in German. It was horrible. Brenda is Brenda because she has that sexy southern accent! She does not sound like some big-breasted bier maid named Helga who wields around a cart of oxen.

10. Everything in Germany is bigger (with the exception of the cars and the strange showers). The food portions, the beers, the people, the mountains, the buildings, etc. It's like Texas, but without the cowboy hats or Bush.

So that is all for right now. Like I said, the blog with pictures of my adventures will be forthcoming. And boy-howdy did I have some adventures. But, should you get bored at work, there is an 8 hour time difference, so I will be able to chat!

I wish they all could be California girls...

I just got back today from Los Angeles. I freaking love that city. I love the noise, the people, the smell, the sights. I love that there is always something to do. I love that the beach is so close. I love the weather.

I wish I was moving there.

Don't get me wrong--I'm so excited to move to Germany. But part of me feels like I'm reaching a point in my life where I should be doing something more. I want to start my career. I want to start the rest of my life. *sigh* I want to settle down.

At the same time, I know that moving to Germany (and having Boise State pay for it) is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And I would regret not going. Who knows. Maybe I'll fall in love or get a job offer and move there forever. I just have to remember that things are happening the way they are meant to happen. Everything will fall into place if I'm just patient and don't fuck things up too badly along the way.

So let's quit being serious.

Basically, this trip was a chance for me to get the fuck out of Boise. After the whirlwind week I had, I was soooo fucking ready for a break. There was far too much crying and people leaving and so much drama. I try to avoid the drama, but apparently little bitches have issues with growing the fuck up, so I do what any normal person does and I just leave. Last time I went to L.A., there was a lot I had to cram into a few days. This time, I was there for three days, and two of those three days I was going to use to lay on the beach. And that is precisely what I did. I usually turn my phone off when I go on vacation, because the whole point of a vacation is to relax. This is now something I need to work on. Apparently my connection to my phone is deeper than that of a mother to her child, and I could barely stand to be away from it for more than an hour. I need to go back to a foreign country where a) there is no cell phone service or b) if there is cell phone service, it's going to cost me my right leg to make a two-minute phone call. Fucking technology.

I got in Thursday afternoon and made a beeline for WeHo. I needed a salad and I figured what better place than West Hollywood to find a truly horrendously expensive salad. The thing I love about West Hollywood is all the gay men. It's the only place in the world, I'm betting, with so many shaved man legs and Pomeranians. You can't argue with that. If anything, people watching is fucking rad there. I ate at this cute little place called Tempered Greens (I think?) and went clothing shopping in some of the S&M shops. I then decided to head over to Redondo Beach. This place was amazing. I walked around the pier for a little while and then laid on the beach for the rest of the afternoon. So gorgeous.

Friday I went down to Venice Beach and laid out for a good four hours. Mind you, whitey-McWhiterson was wearing SPF 50 and I still managed to get sunburned. AWESOME.





There was some sort of freak windstorm in the middle of the afternoon, so I basically got sand in every possible crevice of my body. I'm still finding sand in my hair and ears. SICK.

I drove to Pasadena to check out apartments for my little sis since she will be moving there for school in September. I'm SO FUCKING JEALOUS that she gets to move there. I fell IN LOVE with that city. It's so cute. I'm definitely, definitely going to have to visit her when I get back to the states. I met my cousin and her fiance and friend from work at this fantastic place called Vertical Wine Bar. They had happy hour specials on Stella. So of course, I got myself all sorts of wasted. I'm so good at that. I also made friends with our waitress, Deborah, who happened to be a costume designer. She had some great life stories.

Oh, and should you ever visit Pasadena and figure that you don't need to pay the meter, FYI, it's a fucking $50 ticket. FUCK YOU, PASADENA!

I have GPS on my cell phone so I can figure out where the fuck I'm going when I'm on vacation. So imagine my surprise when my GPS failed me on my way from Pasadena to Chatsworth at around 10 o'clock at night. I have no idea where the fuck Pasadena is in relation to Chatsworth, nor do I know how to read a real map, so I was pretty much fucked. Thank GOD for Nicole, who got me at least to Chatsworth. Turns out Stella has an effect on my ability to recall addresses, and I'm pretty sure I transposed Des' house numbers, so I ended up in some business district of Chatsworth. Nicole had to hang up the phone because I was stressing her shit. I seem to do that a lot to people. I promise it's not panic in my voice--it's the gin talking! I forget there are people in this world who, unlike me, plan shit in advance. I tend to fly by the seat of my pants and hope for the best. This is probably going to get me in some serious fucking trouble somewhere down the line, but for now, it works for me. Eventually I made it home and passed out until it was time to hot tub at 12:30. Life was rough.

Saturday was Des' friend Dena's graduation party, so we got to dress up and I got to do what I do best--get completely shit-faced.



In my shit-faced state, I decided that yes, yes I DID want to get my belly-button pierced, so we loaded up in the car (we totally had a driver for the night--SWEET) and went to Studio City Tattoo before we met the party in WeHo. This is apparently the place where bat-shit-crazy Britney Spears went to get her piercings. I have a slight claim to fame.





Des took about 400 pictures of this whole process, but in most of them I look like I'm getting ready to cry or shit myself.

Here is the finished product:



Please ignore my incredibly white stomach.



Being sufficiently inebriated and now PIERCED, we headed down to the Abbey to meet the rest of the graduation party. I LOVED the Abbey. SO MANY GAY PEOPLE! And a lot of straight people. It was sort of like the Balcony, but with way more people and better music. NOT TO MENTION, HOT MEN DANCING ON BARS! I made friends with this dude, and Alice managed to take some very inappropriate pictures.





He was actually straight. At least that is what he said before he told me that he got off work at 1:00 and we should hang. Awesome dude. I would LOVE to hook up with the straight guy dancing on the bar at the gay dance club in a fucking speedo.

Speaking of which, ALICE CAME with her awesome girlfriend. I love visiting Alice. She makes me laugh.



I don't quite remember leaving the bar or anything that happened after that. I do remember having to wake up this morning at fucking 5:00 a.m. to catch my 8:30 flight back to Boise.

Point-of-order: should you decide that it would be a good idea to high-five the Homeland Security guard at LAX while showing off your new piercing and bragging about your "awesome hangover," I would recommend against it. I got searched. And so did my bag. Apparently terrorists also come in the form of 26-year-old drunk girls from Idaho.

I'm hoping I can make it down to L.A. one more time before I go to Germany. But I have some other trips I want to take (not to mention I'm going to Portland 900 times this summer), so it may just have to wait.

My 60-day stint with (quasi) veganism...

Why one should not drink: a few nights ago, my friend, dear bottle of Riesling and I, had a date. We sat on the couch and enjoyed each other's company while we watched "Bones." Well, then of course I had to invite Riesling's other friend, other bottle of Riesling, and a fun time was had by all. I woke up the next morning slightly hungover and trotted on my way to work.

I always check my email in the morning because no one comes into the office until 8:30. I logged in and had an email from Amazon thanking me for my recent purchase. Recent purchase? Huh? I open the email and, sure enough, I had purchased a book entitled _Becoming Vegan: The Complete Guide to Adopting a Healthy Plant-Based Diet_.


I stared at the email for a good 10 seconds, trying to comprehend just what the hell I was thinking, when another email popped up. I opened this one. Oh God. It was worse than I thought. Another email from Amazon thanking me for my recent purchase of _The 100 Best Vegan Baking Recipes: Amazing Cookies, Cakes, Muffins, Pies, Brownies and Breads_ and _The 30-Minute Vegan: Over 175 Quick, Delicious, and Healthy Recipes for Everyday Cooking_. I guess if my drunk self is going to become a vegan, it is going all out.

Now anyone that knows anything about me is aware that my diet is anything but "plant-based." In fact, quite opposite. If we were living in dinosaur-times (the Triassic to Cretaceous period), I would have been a T-Rex or a Raptor, not a Brachiosaurus. A German T-Rex. You get the drift.


But then I thought to myself, "self, maybe this isn't a bad idea." Maybe this is my subconscious (albeit somewhat impaired by alcohol) telling me, "self, you need to be a vegan for your health. You need to be a vegan for the environment and the cute little cows and chickens. Do it!" (It could also be due to the fact that I was watching "Bones" and I'm fairly certain I had just read on google that Emily Deschanel is a hard-core vegan. God I hate google).
(Haha, they totally had a picture of her buying lettuce. A very hot picture of her buying lettuce).

Thus, my decision to embark on what I'm going to call "Sarah's 60-day Stint with (quasi) veganism." I use the term "quasi" because no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to give up milk. I love milk. Plus, I don't want shitty bones when I'm an old lady of 45.

So beginning on Sunday, April 11th, I am going to attempt to be a vegan. I'm going to be documenting the food I eat, my reaction to said foods, my daily disposition as I go through meat-withdrawls, and I'm also going to track my weight loss, because if I do not lose any weight while half-marathon training and on a vegan diet, then I am going to tell Jillian Michaels to shove it, some people are just big-boned.

So please, stay tuned!