I was trying to live vicariously through a friend the other day, and asked him if he'd gotten any action lately. (As I, obviously, have not. Hmmm. Maybe if the "pimping Sarah for work" thing is successful, I might expand the program: Get Sarah some action! Let's see, the bribe could be contingent on the satisfaction of the experience.... a nice friendly date gets you a selection of cookies, multiple orgasms gets you the entire cakes section of Baking With Julia.)

(Oh crap, my parents read this thing. Nothing to see here, mom and dad. Move along. To, say, the next entry, when I'll probably be talking about work or my cat instead of sex.)

Ahem. ANYway.

In answer to my fishing for vicarious life-like stuff, I got this reply:

Funny you should ask about taking hotties back to my apartment. Just last weekend random I had random hottie's tongue down my throat at a bar in my 'hood, and he wanted to come home....My innocence (what's left of it) was preserved by the fact that earlier that evening I had finally begun to reorganize my CDs so I couldn't bring him home because I had 800 discs strewn about my bed. And, frankly, they're just too important to dramatically sweep off of the bed onto the hardwood floor...

My friend and I have radically different ideas about proper housekeeping, and so at first I scoffed at him for passing up some action just because his home wasn't presentable.

Then I remembered hooking up with someone in Hong Kong and bringing him home, only to realize that I'd had trouble figuring out what to wear that night, and the entire contents of my closet were on my (very small, half-a-child's-bunkbed-setup-with-a-yoga-cushion-type-mattress) bed. There was much embarrassed pitching of things to the floor, and he called me a "right mucky pup" after that. I assume -- I hope -- it was just in reference to my housekeeping.

Whimper.

Several years ago, I did the Minneapolis-Chicago AIDS Ride -- 500 miles in six days, all on bikes. I made it all under my own power, and only walked once (on the Hill Day.) It was an amazing experience, and I'm glad I did it. Riders raise money for AIDS charieties in the Midwest, and the returns can be impressive.

Trevor, who Tripp and I met on the Ride, is riding again this year. He's a graphics guy, a pop god and a pretty damn fine human being. Pledge here if you can. It's worth it.

Random thoughts:

• If I'm going to work successfully from home, I either need a more comfortable desk chair or a less comfortable couch.
  
• I am officially a big journalism geek. I just got the brand-spanking-new, spiral-bound, 2002 edition of the AP stylebook, and it rocks. I'm all aflutter.
  
• How sad am I to get excited about a reference book?
  
• There is a point when the cat gets too much attention. She was just as surprised as I was. ("You're still here? Good lord, woman, leave me alone!")
  
• Thank god for smoothies. I'd never get anywhere near my daily fruit requirement without them.
  
• When making said smoothies, the ice should go in first, not last. Doh.
  
• I am apparently not a very girly girl, because I'm perfectly happy to not shower or put on makeup for days on end when I don't have to.
  
• Being able to work at whatever point of the day you are most productive pretty much kicks ass.
  
• It's amazing how much better your diet gets when you aren't working near convenience stores/magazine stands/whatever that ply you with chocolate.
  
• There's a lot of crappy TV out there.
  
• The crap level does not stop me from watching it.
  
• The Chicago Park District rocks.

In other news, Tripp mentioned that someone who went to my high school just started at his seminary. He's not someone I knew -- he graduated four years ahead of me -- but it was a really small school, so everyone at least knew of everyone else. Tripp asked if I might have access to his yearbook picture, and strangely, I do.

Being such a small and wealthy private school, we had certain perks that now seem like less than a good idea. In the yearbook, for example, every senior got a full page on which to put whatever pictures, quotes, song snippets, drawings... anything (within reason) they wanted. At the time, that rocked -- "I can finally express myself! I can let everyone know how sensitive or educated or funny or glamorous or fabulous I am, with my pictures or pithy quotes!" The thing is, just about every 18-year-old on the planet -- especially a privileged 18-year-old with liberal teachers and the sense of superiority a private school gives you -- is pretentious as fuck. Quoting "The Bard"? Pictures of your girlfriend leaning on your sportscar? A picture of your sportscar alone, in all its glory? You in your sports uniform, all sweaty and reveling in your glory days? Using secret code words that you probably no longer remember the meaning of? Posing on skis, on the beach, in the mountains, in a tasteful wooded setting? Oy. Oy, oy, oy.

For the record, here are the quotes on my page, with my current commentary:

Go in peace! I will not say, "Do not weep," for not all tears are evil -- Gandalf

OK, a couple of things were going on here: I was a serious geek. I really, really, was. I quoted Gandalf, ferchrissake -- not even Tolkien, but Gandalf. So that puts the whole seeing-LOTR-four-times-in-two-months thing in context.

But wait, there's more! There's a hidden subtext! Growing up, I was a serious emotional basket case. I cried at the drop of a hat. It didn't even have to be a real hat -- someone could mention a hypothetical hat falling somewhere in Nepal, say, and I'd be fricking hysterically weeping. It was very annoying. But look, look! Gandalf said it's ok! So there.

They put you in a box, so you can't get heard
let your spirit be unbroken, may you not be deterred.
Hold on.
You have gambled with your life, and you face the night alone
while the builders of the cages speak with bullets, bars and stones
They do not see your road to freedom that you build with flesh and bone.
Though you may disappear, keep you thoughts, forgotten, here
And I will say to you: I will do what I can do.
I will do what I can do.
-- Peter Gabriel

When I first heard this song (Wallflower), I -- wait for it! -- cried. Because it was so about me -- here I was all oppressed and forgotten and misunderstood and no one loved me and yadda yadda yadda -- because I was unpopular, you see. And that's obviously what Peter Gabriel was talking about -- an unpopular teenager. (Imagine my surprise when I finally saw Birdy.)

Humor is emotional chaos remembered in tranquility -- James Thurber

I distinctly remember looking in Bartlett's for a quote about humor and pain, because I was funny, but I didn't want anyone to forget I was sensitive. I suffered for my humor. Feel my pain!

"We've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark out, and we're wearing sunglasses." "Hit it" -- Jake and Elwood.

I just liked The Blues Brothers. I was cutting edge that way.

And remember: A fool and his money were lucky to get together in the first place. -- Harry Anderson

Did I mention that I thought I was funny? And cynical. That wasn't a pose at all. Nope.

Lord, what fools these mortals be. -- Shakespeare

See? See? Shakespeare! I'm all educated and shit. And making fun of myself, as I put it under my own photo. But I pretty much meant it for everyone else.

For all our mutual experience, our separate conclusions are the same. -- Billy Joel

I think I was trying to say something about how sheltered and protected we were at Friends, how we had no idea what the world was really like. But I might have just liked the song.

In addition to all those words, I also had three pictures -- one leaning out a window, one sitting by the creek near my house and one at the creek with my friend Sara Burns. It was 1988, and I had a hell of a lot of hair. It was feathered. The cuffs of my jeans were rolled up and pegged in, and I was wearing black socks with sneakers. What the hell was I thinking?

I was thinking I was 18 and immortal and I knew everything and I was about to go out to college where I would finally be appreciated as a fabulous, beautiful, smart, funny person, and not a tragically geeky social malcontent. And that's what I immortalized in this book, for everyone to see.

I forgot to mention JP, who had invaluable suggestions for my hire me site. And he is peeved:

Soooooo.... I send you some valid suggestions for your work-scrounging website, and I don't even get an honorable mention on your blog? Well, that's the last time I channel my judgmental, critical nature into something ostensibly "constructive" for YOU, my dear. BLEHHH.

JP :)

PS: Have a nice long weekend. (I used to HATE it when people told me that when I was workless.) :)

Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. You are godlike as always. Now get a blog or something so I can link to you.

Well this is unacceptable. Tripp -- he of the every-six-month-update, procrastinator extraordinaire, a veritable poster child for "I'll get to it later" -- has accused me of being on virtual vacation. I presume this is because I occasionally let a day lapse between posting (and it may have something to do with his position in my right column.) Very funny, smart guy.

There's only so much to talk about -- I'm hustling for freelance work, trying to get my financial house in order (I even went to see the accountant yesterday, who told me to chill, basically), etc. etc. How many times do you people want to read about me exhorting you to hire me?

Let's assume you can stand it at least one more time. Because it's time to announce an exciting contest open to all: Yes, it's time for Sell Sarah's Services!

So here's the deal: Anyone out there who gets me a contact that leads to a freelance job gets a fabulous prize.

• Those in the Chicagoland area get dinner for four, cooked by me, at your abode.
• Those outside driving distance get a lovingly handmade selection of gourmet cookies, which may include cranberry/white chocolate biscotti, orange-hazelnut mandelbrot, my dad's famous peanut-butter chocolate chip, Grand Marnier truffles, and more.
• In all cases, we can consult on the menu/selection.

Plus, you get added to my Christmas cookie list, which is a privilege yearned-for throughout the ages. And, and! you get a special mention is this very blog. How can you resist?

All you need to do is get me a contact that leads to work. A reasonably clean version of my Hire Me! site is up at www.sarahjersild.com. (Thanks to Rich, Susan, Julie, Andy and Wendy for their suggestions/corrections.) The next time you run into anyone saying "Gee, if only I knew of a fabulous writer/editor with reasonable rates who could take on this project that's staring me in the face," say "I know just the person!" and send them to my site.

Here's where assignments might be hiding:

• Your marketing department needs to put together a brochure.
  
• Your company needs to add pages to its web site or intranet, but no one has time to wade through the masses of information that might be useful.
  
• A charity you work with needs to put out a press release.
  
• You need a white paper proofread.
  
• You're updating a practices manual at work, and need an editor.
  
• Your boss wants to increase her standing in the professional community by publishing articles in trade publications, but doesn't have time to write them herself.
  
• Your local newspaper is looking for book reviewers. (It could happen.)
  
• You desperately want someone to watch and recap every single Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode ever made. (Hey, it's worth a try.)

You get the idea. Any editorial-type freelance assignment that pays -- writing, editing, proofreading, content development, etc. -- is something I'm interested in. Get me the job and you get some kick-ass food. And my eternal gratitude. What more could you ask?

Feel free to e-mail me if you have any questions. I know, I know, this is a piss-poor excuse for schmoozing, but this is how I do it best. Cold calling and walking up to total strangers makes me break out in hives.

Here's where I exploit the collaborative nature of the web/blogs/etc. I've spent the last several days putting together a "For the love of god, hire me!" site, at www.sarahjersild.com. Would anyone so inclined be so kind as to check it out and tell me what, if anything, is screwed up? Words misspelled? Links wonky? Colors hideous? Browsers crashing? You get the idea.

Any feedback well-nigh pathetically appreciated.