“I only got the T, H, and O out. "
 
It was a quiet evening before Jake and Thomas happened upon my door step. I was watching Six Feet Under when it was decided we were going out.
 
After an interesting turn around at Swaney’s house.. and topping it off at school,  it was decided that Sonic would be the snack of choice (in lieu of Denny’s because I wasn’t feeling the grand slam breakfast at that hour).
 
Anyway, so normally you get the creepy weird white guy working at Sonic around 11. Jake and I know this, because.. well, we’re there a lot. Never really on a Sunday though. Sundays are usually reserved for some Starbucks, major wall action at The Room Store that usually includes a photo session, and maybe if we’re lucky and its not too late- some drive way time over at my house. But today Thomas was driving, so Sonic it was.
 
We decide to get out of the car and stay awhile and so we go to the common area with the tables where two girls- one who is believed to be Joe Harrington’s ex-girlfriend and another who was just.. unfortunate looking. I guess that’s the only way to describe the girl who sat without shoes debating with her friend how a band should be started.
 
Unfortunate: “You’re so wrong. You do covers FIRST.”
Joe’s Ex: “No. No! You create your own style first and write your own music before you start covering stuff.”
 
I decided that neither knew what they were talking about (Nor I suppose did I truly care) as one had no shoes and the other wore a band shirt from “The Used” and some majorly bad emo side swept bangs complete with the Weezer glasses. Both were too trendy for my liking and I doubted either was a true scenester.
 
Especially not if they were hanging out at a Sonic at 11 on a Sunday night.
 
They left soon after we arrived though and we pressed that button on the menu so we could order.
 
“Welcome to Sonic.. I’m Steve and I'll be helping you on this beautiful Sonic Evening. What can I get for you?” the speaker asked us.
 
I was in love. He was doing his job the way I would do his job. I imagined myself in uniform making wise ass remarks to costumers in the drive thru of a BK who would never see me. I suddenly felt sad that I made so much money doing something where I couldn’t be creative. Dogs just don’t care if you say funny things to them. They just want their Pupperoni.
 
“Uhhhhhhhh yea.” Thomas began giving our order and when he was done, Steve repeated it back to us with a flair.
“This is Steve signing off for Sonic. You have yourself a fantastic night.”
 
“I love that boy,” I said, “Let’s buzz him back so I can tell him I love him.”
I pushed the button again and Steve came back on.
“Steve, I love you!” I told the intercom in the menu.
“I love you too!” Steve shouted back, “You want to marry me?”
“Yes, I do!”
“You need a ring!” Shouted Jake.
“GET AN ONION RING!” Shouted Thomas, extremely pleased with his idea.
 “OK, I’ll be right out.” Steve said.
 
“This guy has too much personality to be white,” Thomas stated, “Its got to be the black guy.”
“Way to be racist,” I laughed.. because its true.. C’mon. We were all thinking it.
 
He came out moments later holding an onion ring.
“Now, don’tchew be cheatin’ on me.” Steve said as he put it on my ring finger.
 
Once you go black- you never go back.
 
 
Oh yea, and I’m pregnant now. I think.
There are pictures. Seacrest out!
 
 
Quote of the day:
Its 4:30 AM. I am too tired to think of one. Later. I swear.

“Truth or dare? Take off your top!”

So I wish I were Lindsay Lohan.



Apparently this woman does too.
Everyone wishes they were Lindsay Lohan..
Yes, even you.


Oh Em Gee. There are two of them!

Once, with a good friend of mine, we’ll call him Matt, we were sitting and talking and casually in a nonchalant manner I remarked, “Gee, I wish I looked like Lindsay Lohan.” And he replied, “Yea, me too.” Then later adding, “I totally didn’t mean it like that.

But its ok. I mean, I might be a girl, but I know when someone is hot.
Lindsay with an A is hot.



But she can’t dance.



But she can drop it like its hot.



Wear every trend at one time- including the NEVER LEAVING trucker hat- and STILL look awesome.


They love her in Germany.


And her boobs are hugeormous!



Sure, she has a tendency to get a little.. tan..


And what’s with the endless amounts of Baby Spice Circa 1996-7 baby doll dresses?




But I love her anyway.


Lindsay Lohan likes to get drunk though (or so rumors suggest). With this being said, I was totally on her side during the whole Lohan VS. Duff showdown. How was she supposed to know that Aaron was a two timing scum faced jack ass skeeze without the realization that he is, yes, in fact, white?



She wasn’t.
Politics baby.

Re-dye your hair red.

Then you’re a ten.

Quote of the day:
Grandma: “Target has a new name! Its French!”
Stefi: “Oh yea, what?”
Grandma: “TarGAY!”
Stefi: “No, I think you mean TarGEH. Sometimes people say it like that.”
Grandma: “No, TarGAY.”
Stefi: “Yea.. I’m sure you could say it that way too…”
-- My grandma in front of one of my friends.

"........ You like rootbeer?"

Dearest Blog readers and loyal friends,

No, I am not dead. Quite the opposite thank G0d. I appreciated the text messages, random multiple continuous callings, and the "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" E-mails though. During this time, they were warmly received. Those who didn't send any can gotohell. However, I’d like to remind all of you that its only been four days. For Jake its been about three hours. Maybe two? Just kidding? Anyway, now that I am fully recovered and have in fact been restored of my pluck, I should be back around.

I mean, not like I ever left.

Until I actually do leave this earth,
Stephanie T. Sparer-Fallon

Quote of the day:
“Its good that she has a lot of friend.”
-- Me joking around with Jake about The Swimma (Nicole Swaney) about how she wasn't too happy with her circle of friends. You kind of had to be there maybe.

“I win.”

The [prank?] call I just received (at 2:15 AM). (I happened to pick up the phone at the same time as my mom. We were both up, so if it was a prank call, we weren’t particularly bothered. Just startled. If it was real though- I feel bad for the kid).:

Boy: “Get me out!”
My mom: “…Who is this?”
Boy: “Get me out! I’m in jail!”
My mom: “What? Who is this?”
Boy: “Bob.”
My mom: “You have the wrong number.”
Bob: ::Hyperventilating:: “I don’t belong here!”
My mom: “I know.. I know.. How old are you?”
Bob: “Fourteen.
My mom: “Oh.. G0d…Who are you trying to call?”
Bob: “Matt.”
My mom: “Matt who?”
Bob: “Cunningham.”
My mom: “What’s Matt’s number?”
Bob: “I’m so…::near tears:: I don’t know!”
My mom: “Call your parents sweetie.”
Bob: ::Crying sounds::
My mom: “Sweetie, call your parents. What are their names?”
Bob: “Shauna.”
My mom: “What’s your number?”
Bob: “I just moved here! I don’t know!”
My mom: “What’s your last name?”
::Click::
My mom: “Steph.. did he hang up?”
Me: “I think so…”
My mom: “Poor kid.”


For about .3 seconds I thought it was my cousin Jacob calling from Florida completely drunk.

But ah, in other news-

Sorry I haven’t been writing much lately, I’ve been too busy rolling around naked in all the money I’m making that I’m deciding not to tell my dad about. I’ll try to make up for the lack of entries this week. I’ll start now.

I went to breakfast with Jake this morning after checking up on my clients (I like saying that) and we saw the cutest guy ever in the history of ever.

And I spoke to him.
It was just like a dream. Here’s what happened.
I was walking out the door and he was behind me. I held the door open for him.
Him: “Hey, thanks.”
Me: “You’re welcome.”
Jake: “…”
So beautiful.

I have three houses that I have to visit twice a day now and with all of the driving I have to do, I find myself hating the car and hating the road despite the fact that I have every song from my hard drive at my fingertips. For some reason, that doesn’t make it any better. I’m sick of driving. I spent about 3 hours in the car today. No joke. I could have driven to…. Tucson or something.

But money is money and money buys Prada bags and I like Prada bags so I continue to work. Other than the driving, I really don’t mind what I’m doing. I love dogs. Cats… cats not so much… because they smell and they like to suck the souls out of living creatures and litter boxes are all too disgusting and the whole cleaning them out thing that I have to do.. ew. But I can’t say I hate this.

I mean, what’s worse? Running after a fucker of a cat who thinks he's a dog when he scampers outside (when he knows he's not supposed to) or cleaning the bathroom after a fat woman at AMC for 5.50 5.45 (thanks Jake) an hour. Yea, that’s what I thought.

You guys get free movies. I get a secretary. In the end, it evens out.

Quote of the day:
I’m sure there’s one.. but I was so tired.. I couldn’t possibly think of it. Make one up and laugh.. or submit one.. But to compensate, here's an awesome movie. Happy fourth of July.

“Dude.. my mom’s in the next room… No.”

I have sort of a job thing now.
Several of them, actually. I’m a working girl. I take care of animals. I feed them and play with them and on occasion say things like “Aww such a good puppy!”. And I get paid 20 dollars an hour to do this. Its amazing. I’m so fucking money, baby.

While at a recent out of town client’s house Friday morning, I was surprised by their Hispanic housekeeper, who didn’t introduce herself, so we’ll call her Margarita. It was never announced to me that Margarita would be coming on Friday’s so I wasn’t exactly prepared when I saw her vacuuming as I came through the front door wearing only an NCHS Peers shirt, draw string pants, and some tennis shoes. I was scared for a moment as I thought I had fallen asleep driving to the house and was dreaming. No one was supposed to be here I thought.

“Oh.. Hello…” I said eyeing her. She was not your typical housekeeper and save for the giant Hoover vac she was using, I never would have realized she was the maid. She was young and spry and wearing low cut jeans with a pink cut off shirt and these giant gold hoop earrings with her hair pulled into a high ponytail. She shut off her vacuum and nodded to me before continuing on. I figured she didn’t speak English, so I proceeded to take of the animals as she went about her daily chores; but it wasn’t too long before her cell phone rang.

I’d never seen anyone dart over to answer a cell phone like this woman.
She began speaking in some crazy fast Spanglish. Jumbling English verbs with Spanish nouns together. I couldn’t tell if she was talking about a boy or a hat.. but whatever it was, she was pretty heated about it. So much so, that after a short frustrated yell fest she threw the phone across the living room in a very Jonathan from Blow Out way [oh, and by the by, I think he’s gay]. I witnessed this all from the kitchen. I continued to watch as she began to cry. She threw herself down onto the couch and wept like a small child who was just told, “No, I’m not buying you that candy bar today.” I didn’t know what to do. So I pretended it wasn’t happening and gave the dog with cancer a treat. After a minute or two she picked back up her phone and her cleaning supplies and continued to dust around the bookshelves.

About ten minutes after that she made a sound like “AH HARAF!” and picked up her cell phone to dial someone from her native land. This time the entire conversation was in Spanish. I had no idea what she was saying, but her tone of voice suggested that she was either begging someone for a heart or a lung. Something very important. Something very urgent. This was then followed by an incredible amount of screaming that made the dog jump and whine and the cat run back into his space above the refrigerator. This ultimately gave way to more begging and then, for a big finish; crying before once again, throwing her phone across the room.

For the second time, I pretended like nothing had happened.

Margarita was done cleaning shortly thereafter and left without saying a single word to me.

I’d hate to be a maid I decided.

The other house I visit wasn’t nearly as eventful. The dog’s owner owns some restaurants so his secretary is constantly over to sit around and do nothing. She’s blonde and cute, but dumber than a box of hair.

“Don’t worry about her,” his wife told me one day. “Usually she comes in for about twenty minutes, then decides to go to Starbucks. If she’s not at Starbucks then she’s not answering the phones.” She rolled her eyes. “She won’t even be here on Friday because of this whole cancer ordeal.”
“She has cancer? That’s awful,” I suddenly felt bad for the girl. As if having cancer completely justified not doing her job.
“Nah, don’t worry,” his wife shooed my thought away with a flick of her hand, “Cancer doesn’t make people stupid. She was always like that.”


Quote of the day:
“I want to go to the kajuzzi! Wait, the kajuzzi. I mean the kajuzzi. Yea.”
-- Jenna when she was half asleep and wanted to go the jacuzzi.