Subject:

the time we went to the beach and you met that boy Jake on that trolley
that transported people from Corolla Light [resort on the outer banks] to the
shops. You thought you two would be together eternally. In addition,
I remember you said to me:

'As long as I have Jake in my life, I will be nice to you.'

We got off the trolley and you never saw Jake again.

Imagine what that did to me."

I know, I can feel the excitement too. But don't go crazy. Try to be
selective with your usage of the emoticons, and be absolutely sure that
they are used in the most professional, and message-appropriate manner.

For example:

Nancy,

I'm nearly finished with the report. I should have it on your desk
tomorrow first thing.

-Sara

Subtle, but powerful nonetheless.

Or how about this? Emoticons can also add that extra touch of class
needed for that important email to a superior.

Nancy,

I've identified an issue with the Jonesville client. I believe their trading warrants further analysis. I'd be happy to take on this project if you like - unless you have something more pressing for me to tackle.

- Sara

Don't forget you can use your emoticons when addressing one of your subordinates (i.e., that temp 2 cubicles down).

Fred,

Please stop looking at me.

-Sara

Or how about this - when you've got to own up to the boss about a mistake you've made?

Nancy,

I discovered an error in the Jenkins analysis. It hasn't been sent out to the client yet, has it? If so, I apologize for the confusion - hopefully we can just send a new one and tell them there was a typo.

-Sara

[What I really love about the steering wheel-->explosion emoticon is that "I've just driven off a cliff - and finally, I'll be free from this cruel, cruel world" smile that washes over the little guy, just before he burns up in a firey ball of death. Leave it to an animated emoticon to really capture the most complex human emotions possible!]

- You write an email to a friend and accidentally push CTRL+V. This is what was on your clipboard:

519 S 02/10/06
519 S 05/23/06
519 S 09/12/06
519 P 01/03/07
519 S 02/07/07
519 S 06/22/07
519 RF 09/29/07
519 S 10/25/07
519 S 10/25/07
519 S 11/02/07
519 S 11/02/07
519 P 11/22/07
519 U 01/23/08
519 P 01/24/08
519 V 03/31/08
521 A 07/29/05
521 B 08/01/05
521 P 09/16/05
521 S 12/16/05
521 S 12/16/05
521 P 03/17/06
521 S 03/31/06
521 S 03/31/06
521 S 04/12/06
521 S 06/16/06

AND YOU ACTUALLY KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.

- You actually downloaded one of those animated smiley face emoticon programs and you're using them like crazy in all your emails.

e.g.

Nancy,

This electronic message contains information that is (a) LEGALLY PRIVILEGED, PROPRIETARY IN NATURE, OR OTHERWISE PROTECTED BY LAW FROM DISCLOSURE, and (b) intended only for the use of the Addressee(s) named herein. If you are not the Addressee(s), or the person responsible for delivering this to the Addressee(s), you are hereby notified that reading, copying, or distributing this message is prohibited. If you have received this electronic mail message in error, please contact us immediately and take the steps necessary to delete the message completely from your computer system. Thank you.

Oh Damon...you hunk of a man you.

Those lucky enough to have Disney Channel growing up will know exactly what
I'm talking about. For others, please turn your eyes upon exhibit A:

Yes, this is the band that spun-off from The Mickey Mouse Club (MMC, duh).
Here's their better known hit, "I Found Love":

I don't know why I'm thinking of The Party. Maybe in my attempts to avoid
burning down America [who just voted Carly off Idol], my mind reverted to
a simpler, more Blossom Hatty time.

"Molly has lots of fleas and needs to go get dipped."

And here in conversation form:

Lady at groomer: "You want the works?"

My mom: "what's the works?"

"Bath, trim, dip, bows."

My mom: "Oh we definitely want dip."

Dip! When I was younger (and even now) I would just imagine my dog handcuffed and
dangling from a giant metal hook as she is lowered into a cauldron of bubbling and smoking
green thick liquid.

So it makes me wonder...what IS dip?

"INSTRUCTIONS: Sponge, dip or spray animal with diluted product, making sure all areas are soaked to the skin. Let animal drip dry. Do not rinse off."

LET ANIMAL DRIP DRY! Awww. Dip your puppy into a bucket of this stuff and then make him stand there while he shivers uncontrollably...it might be momentarily cruel but...we all know that when an animal is wet, their smallness (which is in direct proportion to their cuteness) is significantly amplified, and thereby TOTALLY JUSTIFIED.

Now wait just a minute...right after the instructions it reads:

CAUTION: Hazards to Humans and Domestic Animals: Wash thoroughly with soap and water after handling.

Hazardous to domestic animals??? Wash thoroughly with soap and water after handling? Dude, I just DIPPED MY ENTIRE DOG IN THIS GOO, AND AS PER YOUR OWN INSTRUCTIONS, I AM NOT ALLOWED TO RINSE HIM OFF! What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Dip...shit.

This is also a preview of a bit from my show, "Sara Schaefer's One Sara Show" which, I am happy
to announce, will be debuting officially at Ars Nova on June 17!

Check it out here.

It could be laziness, but in reality, I think it's just the feeling that I've got *nothing* of
import to say.

I was doing some stuff though. I made a video for Ars Nova's new play, BOOM.
I will post it here tomorrow.

I also got a new cat, named Newie. Because she's new. Here is where I post a
photo album of pictures of my cat. Here is where you realize I'm annoying.

Anyways, enjoy!

P.s. Jon Friedman played the homeless man. I forgot to put him in the credits. And Chris Rozzi is Shakespeare.

It's everywhere on the subway. I get it, it's for a morning radio show that gives away $1,000 every hour from 6 - 11 a.m. And yes, I understand that is a CRAZY amount of money! That these radio DJ's must be totally insane to give away this much money. They are drowning in it!!!

No literally. They are DROWNING in it. Look at the sheer terror in their faces.

I don't know why, but I find myself STARING into these guys' eyes. Like Satan is looking through the advertisement into my soul, beckoning me forward. And while I'm staring, I swear I can hear the sounds of a morning radio show. Like the crazy thunder-laser-explosion sound effects they play, layered with screaming, bloodthirsty, DJ's with weird echo effects on their voices screaming "EL VACIMILLON! VAYA AL INFIERNO!!!"

[The sound of a fire-breathing dragon is heard, and blood starts seeping out of my pores.]

Just when I manage to try and block these images from my mind, I see this:

I hate morning radio shows.

Literally the night before, I was lying in bed awake wondering how much longer
I could survive in this crazy biz. Wondering if maybe it was time for me to pack up,
move, have my own washer and dryer, pop out some babies, open up a boutique
where I sell ugly crewel embroidered pictures from the 1970's and lacey items I
myself have made, and eat good food.

(This stuff is going to sell like hot cakes!)

But sitting in that big room in Comix with all my friends and colleagues, all the people I've worked with, all the ones I would love to work with...it was kind of magical. Now, I wasn't nominated, so it was easy to enjoy the evening without any sort of internal freak out about winning or losing an award. So when I went up on stage to present the awards for "Achievement in Postcard or Flyer Design" and "Best Technician", I was literally about to break down in tears of joy and thank everyone in the audience for inspiring me to keep going, for giving me my 157th wind. But instead I riffed a couple of lines about how my SSIOWY postcard from years ago was the pinnacle of my career.

(I will take that lifetime achievement award now, thanks.)

I didn't want to come off as bitter, but I think it's just a result of the fact that right now, it's time for me to accept that I'm in the doldroms. I'm all up in those doldroms. It's winter (hate), I'm sad (mom), and I'm disillusioned (the douchebaggery quotient of the past six months has been staggering). Don't you worry about me though - I'm OKAY, I'm all right...one question though:

I've been staring at this picture for about 30 minutes now, and I feel nothing. Should I be worried?

I'm kidding. I feel a completely normal amount of rage when I look at it, so I think I must be doing okay. Seriously though...I am thinking of printing a really big version of that picture and putting it on display up on the wall behind me in my cubicle. Keep in mind, I have ZERO decorations in my cubicle...and no one really knows me here at this job. So I would love to see people's reactions and have them wonder if those are my children and my dog. Or if I'm just some kind of weirdo.

Actual picture found when you google image "volatile market". Do you see the joy on these people's faces? I guess it is somewhat exciting to be down in the stock exchange when this kind of shit is hitting the fan, but shit is still shit, even when it's flying through the air in all directions.

I think this is a more accurate depiction of what's currently going on in our economy:

(Haven't watched this one in a while...it was time to bring it back!)

Here are some other names I've coined to describe a crazy day on Wall Street:

What-in-the-tarnation Tuesday!
Oh Fuck Friday!
Slide Whistle Wednesday! (imagine a slide whistle sound while looking at a stock chart)
Wet-n-wild slippin-n-slidin Wednesday!
We're-Still-Rich-So-Who-Really-Cares Wednesday!
Weeeeeeeee!!!! Wednesday!
Under-My-Desk-and-Suckin-My-Thumb Thursday!
Reminds-me-of-that-song-by-Tom-Petty-"Free Fallin" Friday!
I-Don't-Understand-The-Stock-Market Monday!
And-how-does-this-effect-me? Monday!

These women are supposed to be insanely rich. And I'm sure they spent hundreds
of dollars for these things. But it looks like they shop exclusively at Wet Seal.

It's weird, because I assume they like to appear as if diamonds are bursting from their cleavage (and I assume they are in fact real diamonds, though I'm 400% confident that the cleavage isn't), but what it ends up looking like is their douchebag husbands went a little wild with a bedazzler in an attempt to grab hold of those bags of saline.

Personally, if you're going to attempt that look you might as well go all out:

Of course, I'm missing the main point here, which is how hideous their faces are with all that disgusting plastic surgery.

It got me thinking about the age-old topic of how there are so many jolly words
for the penis, and so many derogatory, awful words for the vagina. It doesn't
seem fair. The penis is given actual human names, endearing pet names, or
gladiator/superhero names (johnson, peter, shaft, dick, johnny, weewee, one-eyed
snake, turbo-rocket, anaconda, king tut, towering column of prowess, light saber
of love... I give up - there are many other people that have made this list much
better than I have, so I won't even bother to go any further).

Meanwhile, the vagina is degraded with words that objectify it and turn it into a
bad place: box, down there (like it's hell), slit (ewwww), c*nt (I can't even type
it, it's so gross),...and many many others I choose not to type here because I've
got weird enough google searches leading to this site already. I will add this one
though - a comedian I know, Mike Burns coined the term "slammable dick cave"
which I'll admit, is pretty funny, though point-proving.

Back in college a female friend in my sketch comedy group challenged a male member (heheh, I said member) to come up with a really awful, degrading name for the penis. One that makes your stomach turn just to say it. Anyway, I don't remember the entirety of the story but I do know that the end result was the phrase "tube of filth."

Yeah, I think that works. Too bad it will never catch on. All I know is that I wasn't expecting to see 2 tubes of filth in one afternoon.

Related: a video that perfectly describes what it's like sometimes to be a lady in a sketch comedy group.