I love it when people ask you to help them, and then don’t even give you enough information to actually, y’know. HELP THEM.

I got an email from someone with the same name as an old friend of mine, who is apparently just starting a new job, and Googled herself. To see if anything “improper” was out and about on her on the web. Which, really, tells me that she’s either paranoid, or prone to doing things that would lead to people saying “improper” things, or thinks her shiny new employers are too stupid to realize that names really aren’t that unique, and they’re probably gonna find more than one Sarah Please-remove-my-name-from-your-post on the WORLD WIDE FUCKING WEB.

Most likely? Its all of the above.

And, y’know, I might be willing to help, since she’s pretty cordial and all, and judging from the text, I was very insecure and mean that day — kind of like today, actually — except that all she gave me was the post text. No date. Not even a year. I’ve had my blog for six years, come February. Am I supposed to be psychic? Or just willing to go through 72 months of posts, during which at times I was posting everyday, multiple times a day, to help an apparently paranoid, prone-to-impropriety, thinks-her-bosses-are-stupid stranger? Because I am neither of those things.

Which I should probably tell her, but, um. After the day I’ve had, I’d be mean. The words “dumb cunt” would probably be involved, and really, who deserves to be called that? Aside from Brad Pitt, I mean.