Sarah Booz Will Eat You

Unemployed

2010-04-28T14:38:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I got fired from the coffee shop I've been working at for over six months. Via e-mail. And not just any e-mail either.

hi sara

for all sort off resones im not going to use y animore at marius caffee

i think y are a great girl im mean it bat i have to make cats

and also other reason

so y can come therdsday to peak y money

i dont think there is a point for y to continiu to finish the week

best and good louck

marius

I think I'm going to get a t-shirt made.

I cannot has nice things

2010-02-04T11:31:00.002-05:00

In the last few months I have

1) Lost my cell phone and therefore all my phone numbers

2) Replaced my cell phone and attempted to get everyone's numbers again

3) Had to completely reset my cell phone because it had some error or another. Lost everyone's phone numbers again.

Before that I have lost cell phones in the sewers of Boston, cabs, bars, and managed to get an iPhone to completely crap out on me though I still have absolutely no idea how. I once dropped my phone down four stories, but it managed to survive completely unscathed.

Last night I knocked my newly reset Blackberry into the toilet.

Yes, I am that awesome.

It works...sort of...and should be fine in a few days, but it doesn't make it any less annoying that I dropped my G-D phone in the toilet.

So, mostly, I'm an idiot.

Aren't you all happy to have me back?

KNITTING. OMG YOU GUYS. KNITTING.

2010-02-02T01:15:00.006-05:00

When Seth and I visited California last year and his mother asked me what I did in my spare time, it became apparent that drinking beer and watching television on the internet is not really a hobby. It also became very clear that this was not something I could tell his mother. I could have told her that I blogged, but I can imagine a lot of things I would like more than Seth's mother reading my blog. Getting a bikini wax comes to mind.

I thought about my lack of a hobby for a disturbing amount of time. Months were spent dwelling on the fact that I didn't have a hobby rather than going out and getting one.

But then I quit my job and my life completely changed. A friend who lives in the neighborhood I now work in mentioned that my job was really close to one of her favorite crafting shops. I had no idea what she was talking about, but while walking around the neighborhood discovered The General Store and knew immediately what she was talking about. You guys, I fell in love.

It was November and I realized that if I learned to knit when I was nine I could learn again. (I made no mention [to myself or anyone else] of the fact that I got bored of knitting within a few days and only got through three inches of a scarf.) I decided right there in the store that I was going to make handmade presents for people and called my best friend. When the phone rang I asked her what her favorite color was. After some deliberation with herself she decided on red. So I bought some really nice yarn, some knitting needles, and headed to my mother's house.

(For those of you who don't know - my mother is a great knitter. She knit me sweaters throughout my childhood, gifted sweaters to family members, and made both my father and my grandmother Irish fisherman sweaters with insane cables and patterns that I will be lucky to figure out...ever.)

Anyway, so I headed to my mother's house with my stash and asked her to teach me how to knit again. She got me started, and started to knit a row....and then she got frustrated. Exceptionally frustrated. It had been so long since my mother had knit that she actually forgot how. And that was my first knitting lesson - it is not like riding a bike.

After her frustration she started me over again, showed me how to knit correctly and I was on my merry way. There was only one problem - I kept adding stitches. I was going through yarn at a ridiculous rate, but my scarf wasn't getting any longer, it was only getting wider. I was annoyed, but thanks to the internet learned what I was doing wrong and started over. This was only after leaving the following frantic message for my mother:

"MOM. MOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOM. Ugh, why aren't you picking up your phone?? Look, I completely screwed up the scarf, am I allowed to unravel and start over? MOM I AM GETTING REALLY FRUSTRATED. UGH. Call me back."

I waited five minutes before scrapping the whole thing and teaching myself to knit all over again from the internet.

THIS ENTRY IS REALLY BORING.

I'm SORRY.

I'm getting back into the swing of things.

The picture up at the top is a scarf I'm working on for Seth. It was supposed to be a Christmas present, but it didn't really work out. Now I'm aiming for his birthday at the end of February.

I knit this hat over the weekend because I needed to. As in, OMGICOULDNOTSTOP. I literally stayed up too late last night finishing the hat because I had become obsessed with it.

Maybe knitting isn't the thing for me?

STOP YELLING AT ME

2009-10-27T17:26:00.005-04:00

HI.

I'm the manager of a coffee shop. I'm at work between 6am and 8am six days a week.

I am very tired.

I'm still enjoying the job. I work with cool people, my boss is easy going, and I'm not bad at what I'm doing.

We have a regular who comes in here at least twice a week and I can not, for the life of me, figure out why. Not because this place is awful, it isn't, but because this guy HATES it. And us. Every time he's in here he complains about the service, the quality, and the employees. Yet he CONTINUES to come back when there are a ton of other cafes in the immediate area. It reminds me of this QC strip. We give him something to be mad about for the rest of the day, that must be why he comes back. But I HATE when he's here. He makes me all tense and I have to stop my self from yelling at him. Not fun.

Other than that, nothing is going on. I'm at the cafe right now helping our new employee close up shop, and then I'm going home, going to sleep, and waking up at 4:30am to start all over again.

Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Wow, Okay. It has been a CRAZY month (okay, six weeks, shut up)

2009-09-29T14:33:00.002-04:00

Here's the basic rundown:
1 - The internet at my house has been down.
2 - I STILL don't have a computer
3 - I've been running around like a crazy person

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand

4 - I QUIT MY JOB.

After five years, on and off, with the same office I decided it was time to try something new. So I quit...with absolutely nothing lined up.

My last day was set to be September 18th, but they managed to talk me into another four days (I'm a pushover , yes, but they paid me more). My actual final day was Thursday September 24th, which ended with an absolutely ridiculous going away party attended by current coworkers, ex-coworkers, friends, and my mother. That was followed by a day in bed (obviously), which brings us to Saturday. Here's what happened Saturday:

Setting: My childhood bedroom
Time: About 1pm
Mood: Hungover

I'm lying in bed, watching an America's Next Top Model marathon and dreaming of brunch which I suddenly cannot afford, and the phone rings:

Sarah: Hello?
Morgan: HI! Are you still unemployed?
Sarah: Well, yes. It's only been two days.
Morgan: Great! I just got a job at a cafe near my house and they need more people, can you be there at 8am tomorrow?
Sarah: Sure!

I arrived at 8am on Sunday morning, having no idea what to expect, and was immediately put to work making coffee. I don't DRINK coffee. (My former boss tried to teach me how to operate an espresso machine once and I nodded, smiled, and prayed he would never actually ask me to make him one. Which, thankfully, he did not.) I got some training, helped people out, figured out the register, and by noon I was on the schedule six days a week. Starting at six am.

As you can imagine, now that I'm coming off my third day there, I feel relatively jet-lagged. It's the best way to describe it. I'm on my feet all day talking to people face to face, so no longer is it an option to crash in my chair, zone out and hope someone else will pick up the slack should I not get enough sleep. I'm in bed before 10pm and up between 4 and 4:30 in the morning. It's BIZARRE. I'm used to coming at 4am from the other direction, so wandering around at that hour with vision that isn't bleary from drink is pretty interesting.

For the most part I'm really excited about the change. It is completely and totally different from my last job, both in description and hours, and it's pretty fun.

Things I have learned so far:

1)I'm not very good at being unemployed.

2) Getting out of work at 1pm and having the whole afternoon to do whatever I want is AWESOME.

3) Having a job that feeds and caffeinates you is a great money saver, especially when you've taken a substantial paycut.

4) The bus is the safest way to travel at 5am. Yesterday morning I missed the bus I was planning on taking and thought I would take the train instead. I turned around and started to walk to the train when I was stopped by a crackhead (no, a literal crackhead, I'm not just saying that word for fun) who wanted a cigarette. I, stupidly, gave him one and walked away. He started walking in the same direction, so I turned around and started to walk back to the bus stop. At which point he turned around and followed me. At which point I walked by ass off to the nearest 24 hour deli, which locks up and serves customers through a window between 1am and 7am, banged on the door and demanded to be let in. I got in and told the guy working the window to PLEASE give Mr. Crackhead a light. Because by that point I realized that was what he was after. But he scared the SHIT out of me. So it'll be the bus stop across the street from the police station and much closer to my house from here on out thankyouverymuch.

5) How to make espresso. I think. I don't know. The cappuccino like thing I made for Morgan this morning was good. Or so she said. Dude, I have no idea. I don't touch the stuff.

6) Our iced tea is caffeinated. I'm a little twitchy right now. Oops.

And it pleases me to have you here for just a little while

2009-08-18T23:07:00.010-04:00

I will write about my trip (which was AMAZING) once I get some pictures off my camera. In the meantime, I want to talk about something else.

I spent four summers in the Adirondacks at a place called Camp Regis Applejack, or CRAJ for short. My thirteenth through sixteenth birthdays were spent there being incredibly awkward and LOVING every second of it.

Behold the awkward

At the end of every summer I sobbed. Sobbed uncontrollably as we loaded into the busses and I returned home hating my friends because they could no longer understand a word I said. "MOCHEEZMO" meant nothing to them, as it means nothing to most of you. THEY didn't know the entire score of RENT, nor were they able to do duets of "Light My Candle" with me. They didn't understand any of my inside jokes or the wonder that is Donnelly's Ice Cream.* So I did what we all did, and I hiked the shit out of my parent's phone bill.

Oh my GOD. We would spend hooooooooours on the phone. Filling each other in on gossip we had heard on our last four hour phone call to another state, or reminicing, or just speaking in what was essentially our own language. We wrote letters, we mailed packages, we visited each other...we were never out of touch for more than a couple of weeks.

And we returned to camp after our countdowns had reached zero (A lot of us had countdowns. Mine were kept in the margins of my notebook and on my left hand.) We would double check the numbers via AIM

"54 Days!"
"No 53!"
"Are you sure?"
"YES. I just double checked, go count."
"Okay. Hold on."

We hugged each other, we sussed out our new counselors, we checked how the boys were growing and checked out the new ones. We decided whether or not to pretend to be vegetarian based on the food choices it allowed us. And we made new friends. All within the first twelve hours back.

And I think it's the same for most people who went to camp, but because I never went to any other camp I refuse to actually believe this. There's no way anyone else on this planet could feel a draw to a particular place as strongly as we did. It's just not possible.

I write all of this because last weekend there was a camp reunion. AT THE CAMP. And I missed it. There were two main reasons for this:

1) I got back from France on Friday night. It was highly unlikely I would make it to the camp by Saturday morning.

2) It was expensive! The camp held the reunion to raise money for a camp scholarship, and I simply did not have the $225 to spare.

So I didn't go.

When I realized I wasn't going to make it, I was bummed. I would have loved to go, but a lot of people from my cabin weren't going either and while I was upset, I didn't think it was the end of the world.

Until today.

When the pictures started going up on Facebook.

I shit you not, I almost started crying at the office. Most of the people at the reunion were people I vaguely remember or didn't know very well - a male Apprentice Counselor from my first year there I never spoke to; a guy I had a crush on when I was 13, whose girlfriend I accidentally hit in the back with a door; the counselor from my second year who had to deal with the cabin of insane people I happened to be a part of. Only one person there was a good friend of mine, from my cabin, and I didn't care. I saw the pictures and wished so badly that I had gone.

Another friend of mine had the same feeling:

Morgan: gahhh wah i wish we had gone to craj

12:15 PM me: DUDE.

I KNOW

I'm really upset :(

12:17 PM Morgan: me too man

me: :(

They better do it again next year. I will be there with bells on. And some friends.

*Okay, if you happen to be driving in the Adirondacks for any reason, you NEED to check this place out. Seriously. It's amazing. Donnelly's Ice Cream. Write it down.

GAH SORRY STRESSED

2009-08-05T00:20:00.005-04:00

HI.

I'M GOING TO FRANCE TOMORROW.

My clothes are here, with me, at my mother's house.

My passport, suitcase and toiletries are all at my apartment. In Bushwick.

I wasn't planning on staying here! At my mom's! It's just that the dryer here sucks, and I had to run around a lot, and I don't plan well and BLAH. Also did not have the money to spend doing laundry in my own neighborhood.

POOR PLANNING SKILLS. Shut it :(

Anywhooooo...THIS is where I will be as of Thursday Morning:

I only get to turn 25 once. And I've decided to do it in Yvoire. At my grandmother's house. Because I'm awesome.

I'm not sure if I should be as scared as I am or more scared about my impending birthday. Part of me feels like I should have accomplished more at this point. Like a degree, or the ability to host people in my house without them going, "really? This is a hovel." (My house isn't THAT bad, but it could be better. I has a lazy, and a cheap...)

In other parts of the country people my age are married and have children. It's not something I'd want for myself at this moment in my life, but it's something to think about. I guess I always worry about falling behind the times. I have a friend that we used to joke stopped growing up at age 11. Now I wonder if I stopped growing up somewhere around 20.

I've touched on it before. I'm scared of growing up. There's something frightening about responsibility and bills and living on your own. Even if I 've done it for ages. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has been in this boat. I can't be, can I?

While I ponder this, I'll head back to being a four year old for just a minute:
I'M GOING TO FRA-ANCE.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Please Don't Make Fun Of Me

2009-07-17T20:58:00.007-04:00

Readers, I have a horrible confession to make:

My new favorite show is America's Got Talent.

I never really got into American Idol. I liked watching the auditions, because you got gems like Mary Roach:

But I found that I didn't care when people did well. I was really only in it for the fail. And it feels bad to find pleasure in watching people fail. And the thing about AI is that I feel like they ALWAYS set you up for the fail. But on America's Got Talent, oh boy, you find things like this:

Who I WANT to do well. And she made me cry. And I realize that she's riding Susan Boyle's coattails, but I don't give a shit. I want to hug her.

I also want to hug this kid:

AND Grandma Lee:

Who, while using recycled jokes, makes me giggle.

The fail is still there, but the winners kill me.

I'm in love. Please don't make fun of me :(

Okay, okay, also these guys. I wish you could hear the judges reactions. Check out the postal workers:

Holy balls. <3

Seriously, go to Hulu and watch. I LOVE IT.

:(
UPDATE: Mom, This is for you:

More Tampon Troubles, and Some AMAZING NEWS

2009-07-17T11:37:00.004-04:00

Okay, first, this is ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING, and probably not true:

This story—and we do hope it's a story—makes the guy who complained about a snake head on his plate at TGI Friday's seem like a big fat baby: A German tourist claims that while eating steak and spinach at the Waldorf Astoria on Friday night, he bit into something you'd only expect to find on the menu at a Red Roof Inn. There's really no delicate way to put this: Axel Sanz-Claus tells ABC News that during his meal at the legendary hotel's Bull and Bear Steak House, he bit into a blood-soaked tampon. UGH: "I had it in my mouth, chewed it and nearly swallowed it," Sanz-Claus says, adding, "This is so disgusting, I've felt sick ever since."

ARE YOU SERIOUS? You can read the rest of the story here. As the commenters point out, how the HELL would you not notice a tampon on a plate of steak and spinach? How would it make it to your mouth??

Guh, the thought of it makes me gag.

To make up for that awful story, Gem has shared an amazing article with me on the demise of Crocs!

The colorful foam clogs appeared in 2002, just as the country was recovering from a recession. Brash and bright, they were a cheap investment (about $30) that felt good and promised to last forever. Former president George W. Bush wore them. Aerosmith lead singer Steven Tyler wore them. Your grandma wore them. They roared along with the economy, mocked by the fashion world but selling 100 million pairs in seven years.

...

The company had expanded to meet demand, but financially pressed customers cut back. Last year the company lost $185.1 million, slashed roughly 2,000 jobs and scrambled to find money to pay down millions in debt. Now it's stuck with a surplus of shoes, and its auditors have wondered if it can stay afloat. It has until the end of September to pay off its debt.

"The company's toast," said Damon Vickers, who manages an investment fund at Nine Points Capital Partners in Seattle. "They're zombie-ish. They're dead and they don't know it."

YOU GUYS, MY CAMPAIGN IS TOTALLY WORKING. Read the rest of the article here and REJOICE! THE WORLD WILL SOON BE FREE OF THE EVIL OF CROCS.

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!

I'm Bleeding All Over The Place

2009-07-08T19:08:00.003-04:00

I got my period today. Accompanied by cramps and general unpleasantness. Fun! I never used to get cramps. When I was younger my period came and went, and while annoying, it was never painful. Until an old woman (A WITCH! A WITCH! BURN HER!) cursed me.

Around November of 2001 I was sitting outside the Brooklyn Museum waiting for a friend, wearing an unattractive long blue coat, when an old woman with a shopping cart approached me. "Do you get cramps when you menstruate?" She asked me in her scratchy old lady witch voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you get cramps when you menstruaaaaaate?" She repeated.

"No, never! I'm, um....very lucky?" I replied. I was relatively disturbed that a stranger was asking me about my period.

"Well you will! Sitting on cold things! That's where the trouble starts!"

"I...What? But I'm sitting on my coat! I'm okay!"

"That's where the trouble starts!" She said, pointing at me menacingly. And then she shuffled away.

And then I started getting cramps.

Bitch.

ANYWAY - to top everything else off I got a nosebleed when I got home. After I had used up the last of our toilet paper I realized I had something else that would stop the blood flow:

Today sucks.

Dammit

2009-07-03T03:08:00.002-04:00

Why is it totally hilarious to spew Shakespeare in other countries? Why can't OUR awful students spit it out?

That was for the UK Comic Relief.

Here's an example of a recent USA Comic Relief:

Honestly...try and sit through that. "It's like sweet potatoes hating yams!" SHUT UP. "I don't care if you think I'm racist as long as you think I'm a thin racist." REALLY? Gaaaah. I have zero hope for (famous [I know some funny people]) American comedy at this point.

In our defense - America did get the Glorious Eddie Izzard one year:

Eddie Izzard Performs at the US Comic Relief 1998 - For more funny videos, click here

OH WAIT. He did that before. Eddie Fucking Izzard couldn't be bothered to give America new material.

What the shit does that tell you?

Late Late Late Mermaid Parade

2009-07-01T21:24:00.013-04:00

Thanks to MattHillArt for the picture

Last year was the first time I ever made it to the Mermaid Parade. (I know, I know, I grew up in NYC and I'd never been to the Mermaid Parade before??) And we got there just a little too late, and it was a little too crowded, and it was hard to see. So my group and I gave up and spent the rest of the day on the boardwalk and rides. I decided this year, like I did with the Halloween Parade, that if I really wanted to see anything I had to be in it.

Luckily for me, a family friend is in charge of the East Village Sea Monster Marching Band, which has been a part of the Mermaid Parade for the last five years. He's been inviting me for years, but for the first time I said yes.

I was told that we were only allowed to wear blue and purple, and so I stuck to that. I also knew it was going to rain, so on the suggestion of my friend Gem, I became a Jellyfish Princess rather than some sort of mermaid.

Thanks to ronaldhennessy for the photo.
(The Streamers make me a jellyish)

Unfortunately for me, the rest of our group did not stick to the same color guidelines. We had a red mermaid, a green mermaid, a "freak" wearing only black sweatshorts, and a couple of randoms who decided to join us at the last minute.

Our "freak" Thanks to masi1028 for the photo.
Yes, I know my bra is showing. Shut it.

We were a motley crew to say the least. But regardless of the fact that the actual musical part of our band only knew three songs, and that we had absolutely no skill when it came to walking as a group, I had a wonderful time.

Weather permitting, I will do it all again next year.

Oh, and of course I took photo booth pictures.

And here is a link to another blog that mentioned The East Village Sea Monster Marching Band.

Update: Yes, if anyone was wondering - YES. I did spend hours going through Flickr. Shut up.

A Collection of Open Letters Round Three

2009-06-16T19:48:00.004-04:00

You can view 1 & 2 here.

Dear EVERYONE IN THIS G-D CITY,
Stay to the right. On the street, at the subway station, WHEREVER. Just stay to the right and everyone will get where they need to go. It's NOT THAT HARD. This goes double for you Mr. Speedy McWheelChair. Being handicapped does not give you the right to cruise directly into people on Park Avenue South. I don't think those things are made to go so quickly and you almost ran me down. STAY TO THE RIGHT.

Thank You,
Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Thanks to _The Moose_ for the picture

Dear Ladies and Girls of Bushwick,
Fuzzy pink slippers are not appropriate outdoor footwear. I don't know who started this trend, but it is absolutely disgusting. I have seen at least five girls this week alone wearing them. What's the deal? This is not a clean neighborhood, God knows what you're picking up with those things. And really? You couldn't be bothered to put on real shoes? You're in PUBLIC. Step it up, ladies.

I'm Serious.

Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Dear All Of You Who Have Been Giving Me Shit About This For Years,

I finally saw The Big Lebowski all the way through! After years of people trying to show me it at 2am or later, I watched it at a decent hour. On a roof no less! The only interruption came in the form of a vomiting man two feet away. Too many White Russians will do that to a guy, I guess.

Yay!
Sarah

A Public Service Announcement

2009-06-11T20:52:00.004-04:00

Have you ever seen that series of numbers clicking away above Union Square? People always seem so confused by it. Is it the national debt? A doomsday countdown? A secret??

It's not any of those things.

People? It's an effing clock.

From left to right it gives the time: 17:13 and 35 seconds. AKA 35 seconds past 5:13pm.

"But what about the rest of the numbers??" You ask.

From right to left it is counting down the rest of the day. At 5:13 and 35 seconds there are 6 hours, 46 minutes, and 24 seconds left until midnight.

Are we clear?

Good.

I Have....NO PANTS!

2009-06-01T20:01:00.008-04:00

Seth and I were talking yesterday (Today? Last week? Some damn day) about how I don't spend money on clothing. And it's true. On a good day my entire outfit (including shoes, purse and underpants) will have cost me exactly $0.00. On an average day maybe $20. My roommate works at a clothing company, my friends love to clean out their closets, and I go to my fair share of clothing swaps. (Also, my everyday purse, a Strand Bag, was found in the garbage. PURE CLASS!) I think the most expensive piece of clothing I own is a hoodie I bought in Spain four years ago for the equivalent of $100.00. And I don't even wear the damn thing anymore!

The last time I bought jeans was years ago, and while for a long time that was okay (because I rarely wore the things) I've found myself drawn to them more and more recently for lack of anything else to wear. And this weekend my favorite of the two pairs I own ripped at the knee. I am still wearing them, but I'm thinking it might be time to invest in a new pair.

So where to go? I'm not spending $180.00 on a pair of Seven's. I owned a pair once, but they were a gift because, again, I am not the type to spend almost $200.00 on a damn pair of jeans. I am cheap. I can accept this.

On top of everything else I HATE SHOPPING FOR JEANS. A lot of girls hate the thought of bathing suit shopping, but for me? Jeans. Fucking Jeans. They. Never. Fit.

H&M jeans are not built for my body. I have a small waist and a big ass, and H&M jeans fail to fit over my thighs if I grab the size that fits my waist. Old Navy is always an option, but their sizing has gotten so wonky in recent years that I'm not even sure if it's worth the trip. (Though I do love walking into the only store in the world where I'm a size 2.) I have a pair of Gap capri's that fit me as pants. And I LOVE THEM. But they no longer have a crotch. So...yeah. I bought a pair of Levi's a couple of years ago because they were having a sale, but ending up turning them into shorts and then tossing them because they looked truely terrible.

Oh, and did I mention that I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING HATE TRYING ON JEANS?

Where the hell do you buy YOUR jeans? Should I just shell out the extra cash? HALP!

(Yes, I am riding on the coattails of The Tigerlily's hose post. Shut up.)

Now I'm REALLY pretty

2009-05-26T19:40:00.003-04:00

So, on top of the red, shiny, frizzy, pimply, limpyness I mentioned yesterday, I now smell bad too! Seth and I went to two BBQ's yesterday and I came home from them, like you do, smelling of meat and smoke. (No, literally, I had trouble sleeping last night and kept thinking "Man, I smell like meat." Seth on the other hand smelled of home fries. He slept fine.) When I woke up this morning to get in the shower after a night of tossing and turning I discovered that my roommate, after a night of drinking and apparently meeting Kanye West (still waiting for the whole story on THAT one) had puked in the bathroom sink. The smell was un-fucking-believable and after a futile attempt to get it down the drain, I abandoned my efforts and, gagging, grabbed my toothbrush and brushed my teeth in the kitchen sink.

Then I went to work. Smelling of meat. Because I'm pretty.

As for the puking in the sink, I am confused. Our bathroom is laid out so that you hit the toilet before the sink. At the Tigerlily's house, where the sink is the first thing you see, I could understand this. But here? The toilet would definitely be my first target. Either way, he apologized and the puke has been cleaned up. Thank GOD.

This has not been my best Tuesday. (Though I did win $10.00 on a scratch ticket (don't judge me!))

OH! And because it was chilly today?, I wore jeans. Tight tight jeans. That reacted badly with my bruised knees. Which made me limp to the point that my coworkers would get distracted when I was going up and down the stairs in our office. Yeah. Not a good Tuesday.

I have the legs of a seven year old - I keep them under my bed. BA DA BING!

2009-05-24T15:44:00.004-04:00

Summer is a good look for a lot of people. They get tan, they flaunt some skin, everyone is happy. Summer is not a good look for me. (I know it's not summer yet, but it's feeling like it.) I am shiny. I am red. I am breaking out all over the place. I have a pimple on my chest. My hair is the size of Kentucky. This is not cute.

Other people Tan. I get tan on my shoulders but every other part of me will only stick to two shades red and white. There is no in between. And it sucks, because there is something very flattering about summer clothes on tan skin, something I will never really understand. And fake tans and spray on tans look exactly that - fake. So why bother? I think I'd rather red than orange.

On top of the sexy that is my shiny red visage - last night my sandal caught the curb and I faceplanted - skinning both of my knees, the palms of my hands, and (somehow) my left ankle. RAD. I'm limping around today in pain with my right knee covered in band-aids and my left turning a lovely shade of purple. I look like a small child. And the fall was just so shocking. I haven't fallen like that in YEARS and it brought back so many memories of being a city kid and the bumps and bruises you get running around on concrete instead of a lawn.

People always ask me what it was like growing up in downtown Manhattan, and I always tell them the same thing - that I only grew up one way, so I have no basis for comparison, but it was great. I had run of the neighborhood, everyone knew me, it was FUN. I had my friends from around the corner, and their siblings, and we left home in the morning and came home at night. I hate people who say that the city is no place to raise children. It's a crock of shit. I mean, I turned out pretty okay:
Right?

My Friends Truly Understand Me

2009-05-18T16:30:00.003-04:00

There's a website called F My Life where people can anonymously post the terrible things that happen to them on a daily basis. All the entries start with "Today", tell the short story, and end with "FML". My friend Emily was apparently browsing it today, when I got the following message on G-Chat:

Emily: Is this you?
Today, I had a very intense sexual dream that made me come and left me panting when I woke up. It was the best orgasm I'd ever had. The trouble was, it wasn't about a hot girl, or anything sexy. It was about bacon. FML

No, I am not sexually aroused by bacon. I just love it very very very much. Okay?

Things I am stealing from Seth's Blog

2009-05-15T16:44:00.006-04:00

Or Pictures from Seth's phone (instead of mine).

Seth has a tumblr blog called Resign that he uses as a sort of picture diary. So, for lack of better content, I'm stealing pictures from his blog and moving them over here.

At the end of February Seth and I were hanging out and trying to figure out where we were going to spend the night.
Seth: Let's go to my place
Me: No, my place.
Seth: Really, we should go to my place.
Me: No. My place.
Seth: We're going to my place.
Me: FINE. Grumble Grumble Grumble.

All grumbles dissolved when we arrived and I found this waiting for me:

KITTY! His name is Percy, but we usually just call him "The Kitty."

HOLY CRAP. MY BOYFRIEND GOT ME A CAT. Best boyfriend ever, right?!

Just wait...Seth explained to me that he talked to my roommate and he wasn't so into the idea of living with a cat at the moment. So he was going to wait a week before bringing the cat over. Unfortunately, because the cat is SO RAD, Seth fell in love with him and changed his mind about giving him to me.

Awesome.

Eventually the cat DID move in with me, it just took a while. He sleeps in bed with me:
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Seth still says the cat is his. Grumble.

On a completely unrelated note - I got an unannounced day off on Wednesday, so Seth and I went up to Central Park. And then Seth took off his pants:

The whole point of this post was so I could put this picture up. Mwahahahaha

Because sometimes you just need to go pantsless in public.

Things Your Mother Shouldn't Read

2009-05-11T11:29:00.004-04:00

I started a new blog this morning - Things My Mother Shouldn't Read - and I need submissions.
The idea came to me last night when I realized that I don't post certain things on this blog because I know that my mother, grandmother, and various other family members read this. Knowing full well that I wasn't the only person in this situation, I decided to create a place to house anonymous submissions of the things we want to write about, but are too embarrassed to post.

Feel free to send stuff to thingsmymothershouldntread (at) gmail dot com.

I may need more people to talk to

2009-05-08T17:11:00.005-04:00

Because I am INSANE, I will sometimes have imaginary conversations with strangers in the street. Well, okay, I'm not THAT insane - but I will imagine comebacks to things people might say to me one day. That's probably not helping my argument. ANYWAY - the reason I'm thinking about this is because the comebacks I imagine myself saying are things I would NEVER EVER say in real life. For example, I just imagined myself saying, "And you shouldn't talk to strangers, you old COOT!"

Coot is word I have never used and cannot imagine myself ever using. Ever. In any situation. I've only typed it twice and already it's doing that thing where it no longer looks like a word.

I think everyone does this once in a while. Especially in New York where people talk to strangers all the time. It just makes sense to have a snappy comment handy in case whoever you're suuuuuure is going to talk to you actually says what you just know they're going to say. Right? Right.

-----------------------

In the last few months I have determined that I look like a raging bitch when I am walking by myself. My coworkers were complaining about one of the banks we have to go to because, according to them, they would get stopped every time they walked in by someone trying to get them to open an account. "Really?" I asked, "It's never happened to me. I just walk straight through and don't look at anyone." I think eye contact might be the kicker. I will make it with random strangers on the street or on the subway, but never with someone who wants to sell me anything.

I spent my lunch break in Union Square which is completely overpopulated with canvassers who want you to save the children, or the rain forest, or perhaps the orphaned ducklings of Connecticut. I have no idea what they want because they never stop me. They will jump in front of any other person within the vicinity and leave me alone. It's lovely.

The people I have to work on are the ones trying to get me to buy discounted salon packages. Do I really look that bad?

Ahem...::Taps Mic:: Is this thing on?

2009-05-07T12:34:00.007-04:00

Anyone? Bueller? Still here with me?

Good.

I'm back.

HEY!

So - My taxes? Still not filed. I'm going to take care of that...um...this week sometime? That sounds good. I need the return!

And California! Holy hell! So much better than last time! I didn't beat the crap out of Seth this time because there were no surprises! There was also no running around like crazy people, so it was a nice relaxing trip. I also noticed something a funny difference between the generations of Seth's family:

Seth's Mom, Step Dad, Cousins: "We hope we get to see you again!" ::hint hint hint::

Seth's Grandparents, Great Aunts, Older Cousins: "We better see you again." In a slightly threatening kind of way. Precious!

Aaaaand slightly scary. Not in a "OMG SO MUCH PRESSURE GAAAAAH RUN AWAY!!!!" kind of way. It's more of a "Holy shit I do not want to get hunted down by old people because they SCARE ME" thing.

I almost suffered a wardrobe malfunction on the day of Grandma's party because the dress I had originally planned on wearing was not cooperating with my bra and because it was NINETY EFFING DEGREES outside I could not fix this problem with the help of a handy dandy cardigan. So I thought, "Oh hell, it's California! I'll just go without!" Things I should not go without? A bra. Ever. Luckily Seth and his brother saved me from this before the party started. THAT was fun.

Me: Baby? Can I get away with this? (Turns around and walks to show Seth what the dress will do when I'm not standing totally still.)

Seth: Hmmm...I think so. Probably. I don't know. Let's go ask Mike (His brother).

Me: ....

Seth: Come on! It's no big deal.

Me: ...

Eventually I did show Mike and at first he said it was fine. Then a moment later Seth came up and said that, on second thought, maybe it wasn't such a good idea but if I was really concerned I should ask his mother.

AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAA. Could you IMAGINE?

Lucky for me I had a backup dress with me.

And my bra was STILL showing! Because I'm awesome. And classy. And pretty.

TAX SEASON AGAIN!

2009-04-14T20:21:00.003-04:00

Because I am AWESOME, I managed to lose a W-2 AGAIN this year. Yeah. Me = TEH AWESOME.

The missing W-2 is from a sometimes job I don't even HAVE anymore and the owner of the company has not responded to my e-mail telling her to PLEASE send me a new one, KTHNX. So...yeah. I'm filing for an extension.

Greeeeeeeeeeeeat.

Update on the leaky window is nonexistent because my landlord has not come to fix it.
I'm STARVING.
Seth and I are going to California on Thursday and I still have MUCH to do before then.
I'm exhausted.

The End.

If April Showers Bring May Flowers, What Do May Flowers Bring? Pilgrims.

2009-04-11T14:32:00.004-04:00

Happy Spring! It's raining, it's pouring and my apartment is falling to bits. Joy of joys!

This morning, my roommate got up and said, "Do we have a leak?" And I told him no, figuring it was just the rain hitting the air conditioner. (The air conditioner in our living room came with the apartment and has never moved. It lives in the window all year round and we're okay with that.) We went out to get some mexican food from around the corner, came back, ate, and were moving on with our day when Seth and I noticed that, oh shit, it's raining INSIDE the apartment.

So now I'm waiting for the landlord to come over and do something about this. It's boring.

In other news, Seth and I are off to California on Thursday for his grandmother's birthday party. It will be nice to get out of the city for a few days.

In other other news I'm lying down typing this on Seth's laptop and it's making my arms hurt. I will provide further updates on the raining livingroom later. If there are any.

A Collection of Open Letters Round Two

2009-04-08T16:25:00.006-04:00

Here we go again.

Dear Lady Eating Nacho Cheese Doritos on Public Transit at 8:45 in the Morning,
For starters, I really hope you aren't one of those women who can't figure out WHY their pants don't fit. I think I figured out your problem: YOU EAT JUNK FOR BREAKFAST. Secondly - That is really really mean to your fellow passengers. And by "fellow passengers" I mean "me." Who you were breathing your nasty cheese breath all over. At 8:45 in the morning. I hate you.

Nauseously Yours,
Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Dear Office Bathroom,
I heard there were not one but TWO roaches in you this afternoon. A water bug and what was described as "its baby" by a coworker. I'm really not into this and would appreciate if you knocked that shit off right now.

Thanks,
Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Dear Weather,
We need to talk. Are you lonely? Depressed? I've noticed you acting out recently, and I don't like it. It was 70 degrees last week and this morning it snowed. Twice! That is a temper tantrum if I ever heard of one. I just want you to know that I'm here for you if you want to talk about anything. And I'd really appreciate it if you would be so kind as to make up your mind. I'd like us to be friends again.

Love,
Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Dear Children Who Live Above My Office,
I understand that you're young, but could you please PLEASE save the pots and pans banging until after 6pm? I'd love if you could reschedule all piano lessons and temper tantrums as well, but know that it's a lot to ask. Why don't we start with the pots and pans and move on from there?

Let me know,
Sarah

Dude, seriously, back off...

2009-04-07T19:12:00.004-04:00

As we all know I am quite capable of over sharing and embarrassing myself, but some people are just bizarre. This evening, in a deli near my house, I was looking at the beer selection trying to figure out what I wanted to get when a man carrying far too much in his hands almost bumped into me. The aisle was huge so there was no reason for this until I realized, oh balls, he wanted to chat. Fine. Bring it on weird dude.

"You like that beer, huh? Getting some?"
"Yeah, just figuring out what I'm in the mood for, you know."
"Drinking alone tonight?"
"Oh, no, I'm picking them up for me and MY BOYFRIEND to have with dinner."
And this is when he started making things up. He told me how him and his "girlfriend" like to drink beer all the time. You could very clearly see the train of thought on his face. "She has a boyfriend? Fine! I will make her jealous with tales of my girlfriend! Weeee...." So apparently his "girlfriend" likes drinking Bacardi mixed with "What's it called? Hendy? Hinny? Starts with an H." "Hennessy?" I ventured. "Yeah! That! We got TWISTED on that the other night. I was so drunk, I don't even know how I got home!" THEN he told me that actually, him and his "girlfriend" don't really drink that much, because he's prone to seizures. (WHAT?) Then he asked if I was engaged and when I told him I was not went into this long speech about how his girlfriend wanted him to propose last June, but he didn't because she has an ex husband. And she's carrying the ex husbands child. But somehow, this unborn child calls HIM "Daddy" and he's afraid of child services coming after him. He also told me that him and this pregnant (with miraculously speaking fetus) woman and he have been together for three years.

If you're going to start telling me stories, at least have them make some sort of sense. Crazy pants.

People are so weird.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!

2009-03-31T10:57:00.001-04:00

Hey Everybody,
Please go visit my mom over at Wendy From Encore and wish her a HAPPY BIRTHDAY! She's about a million now. Juuuust kidding.

YAAAAAAAY!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOMMY!

Blah Blah Blah Clogs Blah Blah Blah

2009-03-27T15:26:00.001-04:00

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Love.

Worst. Roommate. Ever.

2009-03-25T20:09:00.002-04:00

In early 2005, at the tender age of 20, I moved to Bushwick where I lived with four other people:
My boyfriend, two (then) random boys, and a girl who I discovered was batshit insane the second I got home from a three week European adventure with Vicky.

I got back from Europe on the 23rd of June and was home for two days before realizing that this girl was COMPLETELY INSANE...

I was going to a party that night (still horribly jet lagged) so at about 6pm I wandered into the bathroom to start getting ready. Across from our toilet was a shelving unit that held various things - styling tools, etc. You know, bathroom things. The middle shelf served as our magazine rack. As I sat on the toilet I looked towards our magazine collection and was immediately confronted with a used tampon. What. The. Fuck. Since there were only two girls living in our apartment, and I knew full well it wasn't mine, it had to be the other female roommate's.

Well, at the time female roommate was not home, but the boys were, so I dragged them all in to the bathroom, pointed and said, "What the FUCK is that?" At which point they all ran around going, "ewwwwwwwwwwww!!!" for a while. About ten minutes later I took an unused tampon and threw it at the boys in the living room. It landed in one of their hands and after shrieking like a lady for ten minutes, he turned to me and said, "Sarah. That may be the coolest thing you've ever done." Apparently they actually thought I would throw a used tampon at them. And not just any used tampon, SOMEONE ELSE'S. How gross did they think I was? (Don't answer that.)

Disgusting Female roommate did not come home for TWO days, so we had to keep the damn thing there so we could rub her nose in it like a bad puppy who's peed on the rug. Luckily one of the male roommates covered the offending object in a piece of toilet paper.

When Female roommate finally reappeared I dragged her into the bathroom and we had the following conversation (I shit you not):

Me: What the fuck is that?
Her: (Lifting up toilet paper) Oh my GOD. I'm sooo sorry!
Me: Um, it's cool...I guess…But…um, why?
(Pause)
Her: Well...My sister and I...we're saving them. We're making matching sisterhood puppets out of them.

At which point she wrapped the thing in a piece of tissue and wandered into her room.

All together now - EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

When this bit of information was passed on to the other roommates and various friends who hung out at our apartment we tried to figure out where she was keeping them. I mean, how many places can you keep a used tampon without people noticing? You'd think the smell alone would set off a few alarms. We decided she must have some sort of container she kept them in. On a shelf or something. Apparently we were wrong. This lovely, INTERESTING girl also made jewelry,. Hideous, awful jewelry out of fabric and found objects that she used to decorate her walls and occasionally her person.

You know what else she used to decorate her walls? USED TAMPONS. We didn't notice them at first because of all the other shit up there, but upon closer inspection we realized that she had covered her walls in a collage of skank. She was kicked out shortly after the tampon fiasco, but not before we found three others lurking around the apartment. Two in the bathroom and one on the living room floor, wrapped in toilet paper.

There was also the time she left her dildo in the bathroom for three days, and the time she decided to sleep with her door open so that I was confronted with her boyfriend's balls first thing in the morning.

Man...she was a JOY.

I've gotten flack for saying she was the worst roommate ever because she didn't destroy anything or steal from us. But come ON. It was still pretty bad.

What about you guys? Any horror stories?

Holy Shit - Seriously?

2009-03-25T00:44:00.002-04:00

Dear everyone in Middle America, New Jersey, Dublin and Massachusetts (ESPECIALLY Massachusetts - you seem to have performed the search more than anyone else this month),
STOP SEARCHING "Versailles Boutique" and "Versailles Boutique - 8th Street and MacDougal" and "New York Boutiques - Versailles" AND "VERSAILLES boutique" (yes, some genius decided the store needed to be in all CAPS. For whatever reason)

Look. I covered it. I think it's terrible.

I can't imagine why you keep searching it.

Really. I don't.

Please....it's so terrible.

Please stop.

Look to the Fug Girls. They will steer you from your skanky expensive tastes.

Knock it off.

Welcome to the Sarah Booz Nostalga Hour

2009-03-24T19:48:00.003-04:00

I have (kind of obviously) had nothing to say for the last two weeks. So I'm going to supply you with fond childhood memories while I piece together another disgusting story you're bound to love.

Enjoy!

(hahahahaha SO GOOD)

Please don't kill me for this one:

Two Things Guaranteed to Wake a Girl Up

2009-03-06T16:48:00.002-05:00

1) A cold shower

Definitely had no hot water this morning. What a joy that was.

2) Sex Bomb by Tom Jones. Thanks, shuffle! (Also, thanks building guys for not laughing at me even though I'm pretty sure you've seen the video of me dancing in the elevator. IT'S A VERY DANCY SONG.)

HAPPY FRIDAY!

Twenty Seven Stitches OR don't read this if you've just eaten lunch

2009-02-27T14:20:00.001-05:00

Zoe and I, Summer 2008

When I was in the first grade we had to have bathroom buddies because unlike kindergarten, the bathrooms were down the hall and not in the classroom. My bathroom buddy was Zoe, and every time one of us had to pee we had to go together. Because we were six. The other thing about bathroom buddies was that it meant you always had an audience when performing stupid stunts. The most popular of these stunts was keeping the door locked from the inside, putting one foot on the toilet, the other on the lock and then launching yourself over the door. It was impressive and annoying!

Right before Memorial Day weekend 1991, Zoe and I got stuck in the stall. Being that I was A) wearing my favorite shirt (a yellow Lacoste pocket tee) and B) had done it a million times before, I decided to launch myself over the door, rather than crawling under it. Well, like so many other things in my life, (see Wrestling, Rooftop) it didn't go quite as well for me that time. Somehow or another I lost my balance in the middle of this act (I still think Zoe pushed the door, she says she didn't) and landed, armpit first, on the blunt coat hook. Dazed and bleeding, Zoe and I started to leave the bathroom when

Disclaimer: Okay, now I'm really serious about the Don't-Read-This-If-You've-Just-Had-Lunch thing...we're about to go gross...

a chunk of fat from my arm ended up in my mouth and I had to spit it out.

I'm serious. I have had human fat in my mouth. I wouldn't advise it.

Moving on!

Zoe and I made our way back to our classroom where my first grade teacher, Amy Blackwell, did not faint. Which is something I still look up to her for. From there things are a little blurry. I remember being in the principle's office where she held a wad of those school grade brown paper towels under my arm until the paramedics got there. I remember my father arriving on unicycle, and I remember that I was laughing by the time I got into the ambulance. I also remember getting a huge shot in my leg to knock me out so they could stitch me up.

FUN!

Other than that I don't remember much. I'll still run into people who remember me bleeding on their desks...so that's fun.

Now go look at the picture in the top of the post again. That's me, Zoe, and the actual hook I landed on all those years ago. My mother doesn't find the humor in the photo. Zoe and I think it's awesome.

Thanks to The Garlic for inspiring this post. xo

Intermission

2009-02-27T12:20:00.002-05:00

I didn't make this, I just think it's funny

more music charts

You know that 25 Things thing? It's totally not happening.

2009-02-25T16:36:00.004-05:00

Because I've been tagged a bajillion times in that stupid "25 Random Things About Me" note on Facebook (I'm very popular), I've actually started thinking about it. Which is stupid because I'm totally never doing it. You can all stop tagging me now.

The only thing I keep coming up with is that I am obsessed with weather. Not low or high pressure, and certainly not cloud patterns; I'm obsessed with the temperature. I want to know what the temperature is outside at all times. When I am at my mother's house I watch NY1 almost exclusively because it always has a handy time and temperature thingie in the corner of the screen. ------------------------------------------------------>

I love it.

I also love The Fucking Weather. Because it's funny and doesn't load nearly as slowly as Weather dot com.

I know there are probably plenty of other things about me that people would want to know. But they usually already do.

14) I grew up with a sixteen foot python. But you already knew that because you are friends with me on Facebook, and therefore have access to my pictures and have already seen the picture of me and the giant ass snake. It was my profile picture for a while.

So there's an interesting tidbit I'm not supposed to put on the note...great.

7) I once busted my face in a rooftop wrestling incident. You know what? I should probably not be telling people about that anyway.

22) I mess with my hair after breakups. And it's never a good thing.

See?

I'm boring. (Or just laaaaazy)

Stupid 25 Things.

I am really good at making a FOOL of myself OR never shout "PIEGINA!" in a restaurant

2009-02-13T23:49:00.004-05:00

So tonight? At Northeast Kingdom? Where Karin and I had dinner? I may or may not have shouted "PIEGINA!" way louder than I should have. Because I should not be allowed in public.

Basically what happened was this -

After an AWESOME meal of leeks vinaigrette, pork something or another, pork loin sandwich with apple and mustard on an English muffin and a chicken pot pie (and also champagne), I decided to order the banana creme pie. You know that point in a slice of pie when you've eaten the point off and it falls on its back? Insides up? Well, Karin saw this and said, "Look, it's exposing itself!" at which point I said, waaaaaaaay too loudly, "IT'S SHOWING US ITS PIEGINA." Because apparently my banana creme pie is a woman. A slutty slutty woman.

Yeah, not allowed around people.

Ever.

UPDATE: Karin pointed out that what she actually said was, "She's presenting herself to us" which makes the pie a lot sluttier than we originally thought.

Foot In Mouth Disease...I hear it's going around

2009-02-13T16:05:00.004-05:00

Seth and I are considering going back to California in the spring, and while talking about it via g-chat today, I made an awful typo:

Me: I would love to, you know that. Though I'm a bit scared of plans right now.

Seth: oh

Me: (After rereading what I wrote and feeling like an ASSHOLE) *planes! PLANES!

Oh Man. Can you imagine? "Hello lover, would you like to accompany me on a trip in a few months time?" "Yeah, see...about that? I'm not really into long term plans...um...yeah...."

I would die.

But seriously, two plane crashes right up against each other? Hell NO I do not want to get into a plane right now, thankyouverymuch.

OUCH. Let me repeat: O-U-C-H

2009-01-29T20:53:00.005-05:00

For once in my life I am actually spending the New Year trying to make a better me. The first and second changes are not that strange: I got new glasses (well, Seth got me new glasses) and got a haircut. A professional haircut! I didn't cut it myself this time!

This is the part where you tell me I'm pretty. (Seth hates it. Shhh. He didn't want me to tell you that.)

The hairdresser, Mike, made fun of the state my hair was when I got to him.

Mike: Um...what's with the color?
Me: I got mad at a boy in July and dyed it black.
Flamboyant Assistant: Why do girls always take it out on their hair?
Mike: ::Shakes his head:: Who was the boy?
Me: Um...my then ex-boyfriend who is now my current boyfriend? It's a long story.
Mike: ::Rolls his eyes:: And when was the last time you got a hair cut?
Me: Um...well, my old roommate cut a couple of inches off with a pair of kitchen scissors? A couple of months ago? Does that count?
Mike: You are never allowed to touch your hair again.

Which is probably very good advice.

It is the THIRD change I've made this year that is the real shocker for anyone who knows me. For those of you that don't know me? I am lazy. Very lazy. My favorite things in the world are sleep and bacon. Everyone have a clear picture now? Are you sitting down? Comfortable? Excellent...

I joined a gym.

Now, please - nobody panic! I haven't lost my mind...I just...well...I'm turning twenty-five this year and the gym by my house is really REALLY cheap and...I've started to feel a little tubby. (A diet of sleep and bacon will do that to a girl) And I would be pleased if my arms were slightly less jiggly. And the gym - holy shit it is cheap. And a LADY gym, which means I don't have to deal with BOYS and feel self conscious. YAY!

Today was my second day at the gym and I am HURTY. Oh, I should probably mention this: this was my second day at a gym. Ever. Remember the lazy? Told you.

But as much pain as I'm in I'm also feeling good. Kind of, PUMPED. It feels bizarre. I've never really been invested in taking care of myself before.

I think I might actually stick with this...huh.

Spam is very serious business

2009-01-21T16:54:00.003-05:00

I am kind of obsessed with Spam. I used to have a Spam t-shirt. My nickname was Spam Lady for a couple of years when I was younger. I am super disgusted/intrigued by Spam recipes. So it was only fitting that I got the Spam card during Apples to Apples.
Hey, and you can almost see my new glasses! (They are really really awesome.)

More later, I'm a busy bee.

By the way, have you ever played Apples to Apples? It might be the best game ever. Go buy it.

Now.

It was bound to happen soon enough

2009-01-14T13:41:00.005-05:00

Remember little Adolf Hitler Campbell? He and his sisters, JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell and Honszlynn Hinler Jeannie Campbell, were (finally) taken away from their parents last night. Apparently there had been no reports of child abuse, but isn't the name Adolf Hitler enough? Not to mention being raised to be completely and totally racist.

That sounds like abuse to me.

You can read the full story here.

In other news - I finally saw Twilight and Bride Wars on Sunday. My friend V and I were feeling a touch under the weather and decided to do a sneaky double feature in Union Square. Something I had not done since I was about twelve. I'd forgotten how EASY it is.

Bride Wars was completely and totally terrible, yet managed to make me cry. Because I am a complete and total baby and everything makes me cry. When I was six I had to be physically removed from a movie theatre during BINGO because I was sobbing so hysterically. Don't remember Bingo? Nobody does. Here's the summary (thanks IMDB) :

When Bingo, a runaway circus dog who leaves the big top, saves the life of Chuckie, a young boy who is having trouble fitting in with his pals. The two quickly become best friends-skateboarding, playing pinball, and doing math homework together. But Chuckie's parents discover the stowaway pooch, and make no bones about the fact that Bingo will not accompany them on their cross-country move. What follows next is a heart warming 1000 mile adventure of puppy love and loyalty as Bingo and Chuckie encounter nutty characters and hilarious situations in their quest to be reunited. Dog catchers, kidnappers, hospitals and even prison cant keep the two misfits apart!

Uh huh. Physically removed. Because I was HYPERVENTILATING.

As a teenager I had to stop watching Ice Age on a plane because I was crying so much that my seatmate noticed.

When I watch E.T. I start crying the second the first bicycle leaves the ground and I don't stop until the end of the film. I'm terrible.

Anywho, Bride Wars sucked. Don't waste your money.

Twilight? Also sucked. If you haven't read the book the movie will make absolutely no sense to you. V was confused. Hell, half the time I was confused. It was completely terrible. But you know what I'm doing now? Rereading Twilight! Why? Because Stephanie Meyer has managed to write crack.

So you know what?

Fuck you Stephanie Meyer! Give me my life back!

How to cheer a nerd up:

2009-01-09T00:40:00.003-05:00

Eddie Izzard + Legos = awesome.

I don't care if they are a million years old:

Regarding the second one, if we ever hang out you will definitely hear me say, "I can kill you with a thought!"

Love.

FAIL

2009-01-08T22:53:00.005-05:00

I've had blog posts running through my head all week, but as I mentioned before, I have very little computer access. Now that I'm on a computer? I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I WAS GOING TO WRITE ABOUT.

I need to work on this computron issue.

In the meantime this is why I should not be allowed near the Photobooth program on macs:

I'm pretty!

And, Seth and I are awesome:
Woooo....yeaaaah.

Wow. I'm boring.

I'm also in a really really bad mood, which is annoying. I think it's a combination of far too little sleep and general winter blues.

Or something.

Dude, I don't know.

Leave me alone. I'm grumpy.

Actually:

2009-01-03T04:00:00.002-05:00

Dear Friends:

Real Life or internet (and close by)
One of my resolutions this year is to be a better friend/see my friends more so....

If you want to have a home cooked meal that I have posted about, or would like to serve me one - let's work it out. I am all about cheap or not so cheap home cooked meals this year.

Let's switch off!

Or, if you are reading this and we don't know each other - think about doing a potluck. Or just a dinner party. For your friends! I think 2009 is a good year to be awesome. Awesome in a delicious way.

WOOOOO

2009-01-03T03:10:00.004-05:00

YEAH! Happy New Year!

Sorry for disappearing for a little while in there. I can explain:

I don't own a computer. Yeah. I know. Lame.

My roommates computer? Died for a little bit in there.

My mom's computer? Well, the computer is fine. The monitor broke. Blogging without a monitor is hard.

And work? Well, work decided that busy work was better than no work and being caught blogging would mean the ax. After almost five years. Awesome.

So mostly? I'm sorry.

My life hasn't changed that much...

I wish I had something exciting to blog about. I will, in a night or two, when I remake an amazing meal that I made up a couple of weeks ago and want to recreate. In the meantime I will post a meal that I made recently that two years ago made Seth fall in love with me more than he already was. (Which is my favorite because it is SO FUCKING EASY)

Please keep in mind that I am bad about recipes and tend to cook the way I was taught:

Roasted Potatoes with Sauteed Spinach and Sausage

Take as many potatoes as you think you will eat. As long as they aren't baking potatoes, it doesn't matter. On the high end you have your baby yellows or reds. On the low end you have whatever is not a baking potato at your ghetto local super market.

Preheat the oven to 345.

Chop them up into tiny bitesized pieces. Put your cut potatoes in a bowl with enough olive oil to coat them, a generous amount of salt, some fresh pepper, fresh rosemary* (No really, include the rosemary, it makes a difference), and whatever else you have around that you think will taste good. Mix everything around until the potatoes are coated in delicious randomly spiced goodness, put them in a baking dish, toss a couple of full garlic cloves on top, and stick it in the oven for at least 45 minutes.

Every oven is different, my oven runs cold so these potatoes can take over an hour. It sucks. Check them after 45 minutes and if they are done, congrats! Your oven rules! If they aren't, then wait a while.

About 20 minutes into potato cooking, take a package of spicy italian sausage and cook them in olive oil until done. I have never found the cooking instructions for sausage to do me any good, so look it up on the internet and improvise from there. You should come out with crispy outsides and awesome insides. (I wish I could do better at explaining this, but cooking sausage seems to be a science that eludes me.)

When the sausage is done remove to a plate and cover in foil.

Throw a bunch of washed spinach (NOT FROZEN) into the sausage pan, cook until it seems like far too little, along with some more salt and pepper.

Serve sausage on top of spinach with roasted potatoes on the side. Marvel at the reaction you get.

If you need help, let me know and I will be more than happy to come over and recreate this. I know exactly what I'm doing when I cook it, writing about it is a different story.

UPDATE: Ducky - writing this made me realize that I owe you a casserole. Please e-mail me to work out a time.

Poor Kids

2008-12-18T13:12:00.004-05:00

Back in April a couple from New Zealand was told that they could not name their child "4Real", and were quite upset about it. They opted instead to put "Superman" on his birth certificate and continue to call him 4Real around the house. When asked why they named him 4Real to begin with, "Mr Wheaton said he came up with the unlikely moniker after seeing the baby for the first time in an ultrasound scan and realising their baby was 'for real'."

Yeah, some people should not breed.

In July, New Zealand was in the news again for weird baby names. A nine year old girl named, no kidding, "Talulah Does The Hula From Hawaii" was scared of being teased by her classmates and asked to be called "K" instead. She had her name legally changed, but the Judge, Rob Murfitt, attacked the trend of weird names and was able to cite several examples of both allowed and banned names.

The banned names included Fat Boy, Fish and Chips (twins), and Sex Fruit. The allowed names were not much better and included Violence, Number 16 Bus Shelter, and a set of twins named Benson and Hedges.
As I stated when this article first came out, the only reason I can imagine for a child being named Number 16 Bus Shelter would be if they were conceived there. And if that's the case? Ewwwwwwww....

Also? Twins named Fish and Chips are way less trashy then a set named Benson and Hedges. Just sayin'.

Anywhoooo, this week Americans decided to get in on the weird baby name trend. Though in the case of this New Jersey couple the names were more offensive than strange. The Campbell family of New Jersey was very upset when a local establishment refused to write their son's name on a birthday cake. Their son's name is Adolf Hitler Campbell.

I'll let that soak in for a minute.

They said that they named their son that because it was original and they liked the name. It has nothing to do with the fact that they are insane racists! Of course not! If they were insane racists would they have named their second child JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell? I think not! (No, seriously, they really named their daughter that.) Would they give their third child a middle name that sounds suspiciously like Himmler? Of course not!

I'm really hoping this whole thing turns out to be a hoax.

Can we start manditory IQ testing for breeding rights? Because this is getting ridiculous.

Thanks to Geekologie for all the tips!

"Well, there's spam egg sausage and spam, that's not got much spam in it."

2008-12-15T20:55:00.004-05:00

I was looking in my spam folder on gmail the other day when I noticed a link at the top of the page, one of those ads that are supposed to have something to do with what you're reading, and it said "French Fry Spam Casserole."

Excuse me?

I clicked on the link and was greeted with one of the most disgusting recipes I have ever encountered. Behold:

Title: FRENCH FRY SPAM CASSEROLE
Categories: Main dish
Yield: 8 servings

1 pk Frozen french fry potatoes,
-thawed (20 oz)
2 c Shredded Cheddar cheese
2 c Sour cream
1 cn Condensed cream of chicken
-soup (10 3/4 oz)
1 cn SPAM Luncheon Meat, cubed
-(12 oz)
1/2 c Chopped red bell pepper
1/2 c Chopped green onion
1/2 c Finely crushed corn flakes

Heat oven to 350'F. In large bowl, combine potatoes, cheese, sour
cream, and soup. Stir in SPAM, bell pepper, and green onion. Spoon
into 13x9″ baking dish. Sprinkle with crushed flakes. Bake 30-40
minutes or until thoroughly heated.

Holy shit.  What do you do if someone serves you this?  And do you think there is a
set of rules somewhere that says you must live in a home with wheels in order to cook this?

The Recipe Source has some other gems as well:

1. Cantonese Sweet And Sour Spam

2. Dipped Spam Swiss Sandwiches

3. Classic Spam Potato Salad

4. Vegetable Spam Stuffed Acorn Squash

5. Deviled Green Eggs And Spam

6. Spam Breakfast Bagels

7. Hearty Spam Breakfast Skillet

8. Spam And Egg Brunch

9. Elegant Potato Spam Casserole

10. Double Cheese Spam Bake

11. Spam-Mac Casserole

12. French Fry Spam Casserole

13. Spam Cheesy Broccoli Bake

14. Speedy Spam Quiche

15. Quick Spam Quiche

16. Speedy Spam Quiche

17. Cricket's Spam Quiche

18. Spam Strudels With Mustard Sauce

19. Spam Vegetable Strudel

20. French Fry Spam Casserole

21. Savory Spam Crescents

22. Spam Swiss Pie

23. Spam Vegetable Soup With Cheese-Topped Croutons

24. Spam Meal In A Bundle

25. Creamy Spam Broccoli Casserole

26. Spam Hot And Spicy Stir-Fry

27. Spam Hot Vegetable Salad Sandwiches

28. Spam Veggie Pita Pockets

29. Vineyard Spam Salad

30. Spam Ala Gary

31. Spam Stew With Buttermilk Topping

32. Spam Breakfast Burritos

33. Spam Confetti Pasta

34. Spam Primavera

35. Spam Broccoli Pecan Salad

36. Spicy Spam Kabobs

37. Healthy Spam Peppers

38. Coconut Beer Batter Spam with Raspberry Horse

39. Spam Denver Biscuit Souffle

40. Spam Fajitas

41. Spam Hashbrown Bake

42. Spam Vegetable Casserole

43. Spam Ala Gary

44. Spam Primavera

45. Spam Hashbrown Bake

46. Delicious and 'Good For You' SPAM Salad

47. Spam-Bolaya

48. Easy Spam Triangles

49. Gingered Spam Salad

50. Spam A La King

51. Spam-Mac Casserole

52. Spam Salad Cones

53. Spam Skillet Casserole

54. Spam Stuffed Potatoes Florentine

55. Spam Imperial Tortilla Sandwiches

56. Spam Western Pasta

57. Spam Fettuccini Primavera

58. Spam Hawaiian Pizza

59. White Spam And Garlic Pizza

60. Hawaiian Spam Pizza

61. Spam Reuben Sandwich

62. Spam Pizza Pockets

63. Dipped Spam Swiss Sandwiches

64. Spam Imperial Tortilla Sandwiches

65. Spam Imperial Tortilla Sandwiches

66. Maui Spam Muffins

67. Mondo Spam Deluxe On Rye

68. Bone Hunter's Spam Delight

69. Spam Carbonera

70. Super Spam Cheeseball

71. Spicy Spam Party Dip

72. Spam Meat Spread

73. Spam Fiesta Dip

74. Spam Western Bean Soup



I've bolded the important recipes.

Number 9, Elegant Potato Spam Casserole.  Right, because anything including Spam is going to be elegant.

Number 68, Bone Hunter's Spam Delight.  The name caught me off guard, but the recipe is even better:

Recipe By     : James I. Kirkland Ph.D.
Serving Size  : 1    Preparation Time :0:00
Categories    : Meats

 Amount  Measure       Ingredient -- Preparation Method
--------  ------------  --------------------------------
  1      can           spam

Open can. Take a green branch from a Utah Juniper. Sharpen the point. Plunge it
through the Spam. Hold over a low fire of Juniper wood. Turn slowly. Roast for
about 15 minutes. May be eaten off the stick or sliced onto some hard tack.

                  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 NOTES : This is a delightful meal eaten often by underfunded paleontologists in
  the field.

WHAT THE FUCK. I was always under the impression that if you had enough money and brains to get your PHD you would have absolutely nothing to do with canned meat. Apparently I was mistaken.

And finally, my personal favorite, number 38: Coconut Beer Battered Spam with Raspberry Horse.

Horse is apparently a typo for Sauce, as it is not mentioned in the recipe at all. The raspberry horse is made from "raspberry sauce or jelly" and horseradish sauce. I've been on the verge of throwing up all night and this might actually push me over the edge. I also hate coconut, which doesn't help matters.

Spam, ladies and gentleman, it will blow your mind.

HA HA HA

2008-12-15T15:04:00.003-05:00

NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM

2008-12-09T22:23:00.003-05:00

The Tigerlily introduced me to the awesomeness that is Angelo Pietro Sesame Miso Dressing ages ago. She was so excited about the stuff that she blogged about it. Now I am doing the same because HOLY SHIT, this stuff is amazing.

Seth and I recently started shopping at this Japanese supermarket in the East Village which, if you're in the area, I totally recommend. They have great prices on fish and sell large pieces of sashimi for ridiculously low prices. I am in love. They also carry all sorts of awesome Japanese snacks, udon noodles, lots of frozen dumplings and an awesome candy selection. On top of all that? More salad dressings, soy sauces, and oils than you can shake a stick at. Oh yeah.

Sunrise Mart
4 Stuyvesant Street, 2nd Floor
New York, NY 10003
212-598-3040

So, back to the salad dressing. While shopping at Sunrise Mart last week I saw that they sold the miso-sesame dressing and promptly bought a bottle after calling the Tigerlily and checking that it was the correct flavor. Seth looked at me like I was insane. "Five dollars for a bottle of salad dressing?" I tried to explain the awesome to him, but he still thought it was too expensive. The next night he tried it for himself while eating dinner at my apartment. The day after that I got a phone call. "It's the sesame miso one right? I want to make sure I get the right flavor."

So now Seth has been converted and you will be too. I've started to dream about this salad dressing. I'm considering bringing a bottle to keep at work. I'm obsessed.

In other NOM related news - Seth has trained himself to make an awesome key lime pie. He tried the recipe for the first time on Thanksgiving because he knows that I will do anything for key lime pie. ("What would you do for a Klondike Bar?" Absolutely nothing. Replace "Klondike Bar" with "key lime pie" and I will follow you to the ends of the earth.) Anywho, he had a couple of extra limes and a cupcake tray lying around and decided to make key lime tarts. Which he has been feeding me for dessert the last two nights. He also made bangers and mash with a mushroom gravy which kicked my butt.

Basically, I love him a lot.

And food. I love food a lot.

Spoons is very serious business

2008-12-08T16:48:00.006-05:00

My father's side of the family has a long and painful tradition of playing Spoons. Never played Spoons? Here's a quick list of rules from familyfun.com:

Spoons Card Game

Few cards serve up the kind of excitement that are part of every game of Spoons.

WHAT YOU NEED:
	Deck of cards
	Spoons (one less than # of players)

HOW TO PLAY:
1. The object is to collect four cards of one kind (four twos, four kings and so on) and not to be the person left without a spoon. To begin, place the spoons (one fewer than the number of players) in the center of the table within grabbing reach of all players. Each player is dealt four cards. The dealer keeps the deck.

2. The dealer picks a card from the deck and then discards one card from his hand, sliding it facedown to the player to his left. That player takes it, then picks one card from his hand and passes it to his left.

3. Each player in turn does the same, as quickly as possible. Each person should have four cards in his hand at all times. The player to the right of the dealer places discarded cards in a pile to his left to be used by the dealer when the original deck is used up.

4. Play continues until one player has four of a kind, at which time he takes a spoon from the pile. He may steal the spoon surreptitiously, continuing to pass cards until someone else notices. Or he may grab his spoon, creating a mad rush for spoons at the table.

5. The player left without a spoon has lost the round. If you like to keep score, that player is given an S. As players spell S-P-O-O-N, they are out. The player left at the end is the winner.
----------------------------------------
We play with two decks of cards, but other than that it's the same. Do you have a general idea of how the game works now? Excellent.

My family gets very very serious about it. When I was eleven years old I witnessed my aunt and uncle wrestle each other to the ground over a spoon. A week and a half after their wedding.

Seth and I went up to visit some of my family up in Boston this past weekend and because it was absolutely FREEZING outside, I suggested we all play on Saturday night. Seth had never played with my family before, so I thought it would be a good learning experience. It was also the first time that the baby of the family was allowed to play with the adults.

A list of injuries:
-A small chunk of my right index knuckle is probably still somewhere on their kitchen table.
-My uncle ended up with quite a bit of table under his fingernails.
-I lost the feeling in my pinkie for about an hour after pulling a spoon out of my uncle's hand.
-Baby cousin (who was also the first to get S-P-O-O-N), kept getting her fingers smashed.
-A bruise on my shin because I accidentally hooked my leg around my chair.
-Etc.

Who knew a card game could involve so much pain?

Also? I love my family.

Oscar The Sometimes Cat

2008-12-03T01:13:00.004-05:00

My roommates and I have acquired a sometimes cat. By "sometimes cat" I mean "stray cat who lives behind our house who is kind enough to catch our mice and poop outside as long as we feed him regularly." Basically, Oscar does not live with us all the time. Only when he's hungry or in the mood. Most of the time he is behind our apartment doing whatever it is that outside cats do. (Whatever it is it involves screeching and coming home with large scratches across the nose. We think the other outside cats might be jealous of our Oscar.)

Before Oscar was Oscar he was just some random cat who meowed at our window from time to time. We made the mistake of feeding him once and then he wouldn't go away. (Of course not, would you?) My roommate Michael decided to let him in one day (this was after said roommate had dubbed the outside cat "Oscar") and he immediately not only killed the one mouse we had in our apartment, but took it outside so we wouldn't have to deal with it. That was when he became our sometimes cat. Dude earned it.

Meet Oscar:All together now: "Awwwwww"

Oscar is friendly, well behaved and pretty much awesome. His main problem is that he's filthy. Live in a garbage can (Oscar, get it?) and you're bound to be. His other problem is that he makes the other outside cats very VERY jealous. I kicked him out the other day because he was being a nuisance, and immediately heard one of the worst cat fights I have ever heard in my life. On top of that, this was the scene outside of my (VERY VERY FILTHY) window recently:
One cat all up in our business, and one cat waiting to pounce. Awesome.

Our other problem with Oscar is that we're not sure if we're allowed to have cats or not. We need to check with the landlords on that. We also need to check with the landlords about our broken sink, toilet, and door, but those are other issues. If it turns out we're allowed to have cats we're going to have Oscar fixed, bathe him, and keep him inside. If it turns out we can't...

Well...

Anyone want a cat? I'll pay for the balls being chopped off!

You Are All a Bunch of Creeps

2008-11-18T22:05:00.006-05:00

I have this handy-dandy thing on here called Stat Counter which, as you probably already know, shows me my daily page views, a map of where people are coming from, and various other interesting tidbits. (Seriously, thing is awesome, if you have a blog I advise getting one immediately: http://www.statcounter.com) One of these tidbits is "recent keyword activity" which lets me know how people are stumbling upon my page. This keyword tracker has alerted me to the fact that ya'll are a bunch of creeps.

I wrote a blog entry a while back titled "I'm freezing my tits off!" because it happened to be really cold in my office that day and I happen to enjoy that phrase. Apparently a lot of other people enjoy Googling that phrase and I learned today that my blog is the first hit on Google should you be the type of person who searches for that sort of thing. And a lot of people search for it. About once a week someone searches "I'm freezing my tits off", "freezing tits", "freeze your tits off" or some other variation on that phrase. But why? What on earth are people looking for? Pictures of cold girls? Ice covered boobies? I'm at a loss.

I've also had a couple of hits on this entry from people searching "Hitler lives". Well, thankfully, no. Hitler does NOT live. He is very much dead and I'm sure we would all like to keep it that way. He's not Elvis! He is dead dead dead dead dead. Hitler BAD.

A lot of people are also apparently very interested in that trashy store on 8th street and MacDougal. Versailles. But I still can't understand WHY. Seriously. LOOK at the place. It's horrific. Please stop searching for it.

And, the most popular search that brings people to my blog is, quite obviously, my name. I'm a little creeped out by the fact that I am being googled AT LEAST once a day. From all over the world. Granted, there could be another Sarah Booz out there (actually, there is. She's in highschool in PA somewhere and her friends will sometimes mistakenly contact me thinking I'm her. "No, no, I'm a college student in New York. I definitely don't sit next to you in Chem class. Please leave me alone."), but I don't think she has a blog. Oh yes. People not only search my name, but also "sarah booz blog" and "sarah booz blogspot" which leads me to believe that they know the site and simply too lazy to type out the full URL. JUST BOOKMARK IT. You are FREAKING ME OUT.

So yeah...if you're stopping by because you know me, or knew me, or whatever, LEAVE A COMMENT. Or use that handy e-mail tool up at the top. Stop being a bunch of creepy lurkers.

UPDATE: Apparently some of these people ARE looking for ice covered boobies. The first image on Google Image Search (safe search OFF of course) is a pair of breasts covered in snow. Knowledge is power, people.

Thank You

2008-11-17T22:04:00.006-05:00

Dear Cowgirl Hall of Fame,

Thank you for understanding that crucial period of time between Halloween and Christmas.

Unlike everyone else.

Love,
Sarah

JUST WAIT ANOTHER WEEK AND A HALF, PEOPLE

2008-11-17T19:17:00.007-05:00

I heard a Christmas carol on the radio in my local drugstore yesterday and just about lost it. "Holy shit." I said to the cashier waiting on me. She looked at me like I was crazy. I pointed up to where the sound was coming from and she kind of cocked her head to the side and continued to look at me like I was insane. "They're playing a Christmas carol. On the radio. It's not even Thanksgiving!" She then nodded and handed me my receipt. "But...but..." I stammered and then left, because obviously this girl did not understand how completely WRONG the whole thing was. Christmas carols...before Thanksgiving...You're kidding.

They played the original cartoon version of How The Grinch Stole Christmas on Saturday night. I called my mother immediately.

Me: Mom? MOM! THEY ARE PLAYING THE GRINCH.
Mom: I know. I'm not watching it. I'm at a baby shower and besides, it's before Thanksgiving.
Me: I KNOW. Why are they playing it???
Mom: I'm ignoring it. I'm at a baby shower and it doesn't count.

BECAUSE IT DOESN'T. IT'S TOO EARLY.

I took this picture midday on Halloween:

The employees at the Duane Reade around the corner from my office were literally tearing down Halloween and putting up Christmas ON HALLOWEEN. I love Halloween, please don't let it die out so quickly.

I saw Christmas decorations being arranged well before Halloween at the K-Mart on Astor Place.

Hello? Thanksgiving? Whatever happened to Thanksgiving decorations? Those cardboard and paper turkeys and the pilgrim wall hangings? The paper signs in autumnal colors proclaiming "HAPPY THANKSGIVING!" to your neighbors?

Do they still make hand-turkeys in schools? Or do they skip straight to the construction paper Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Whatever cards?

WHAT ABOUT THE HAND TURKEYS, PEOPLE?

Please, for all of our sakes...don't let the hand-turkey die. Please, please don't do anything Christmassy until after next Thursday. For me. The early xmas is making the Sarah crazy.

Too much hair and what to do with it!

2008-11-14T17:47:00.007-05:00

My hair is large and in charge. It is curly, it reacts badly to humidity, and it is capable of some of the worst bedhead you have ever seen in your life. Yet, when I was about 18, I managed to straighten it every day. The fact that it was short probably helped, but still, how did I have so much time? I've gone through a couple of phases where I wanted to deny the fact that what my hair really wants to do is this:And I should probably just let it.

While I KNOW this, and I know my hair is dry and in need of a good deep conditioning treatment, and probably a haircut or six, the idea of straightening my hair still pops in there once in a while. Just to try something different every now and then. The only problem with this is that, without fail, this little idea pops into my head when it's raining, or humid, or some other sort of hair destroying weather (100 degree heat comes to mind here). I think that the second my hair realizes that it will not even begin to do what I want it to it sends messages to my brain telling me I should straighten it. That's right, I believe my hair has a mind of its own.

Look, if it's capable of sprouting a grown man out of it, it's capable of anything.

Speaking of curly hair, for those of you out there who have it and are confused about what to do with it, here is some simple advice:

1) Use shampoo and conditioners specifically marketed for curly hair. I like Pantene's version myself. It really does make a difference.

2) DO NOT BRUSH YOUR HAIR after you get out of the shower. I'm serious. Brush it before you get in the shower and run your fingers through it while conditioning it. Then leave it the hell alone.

3) Stop using gel and hairspray. It is not the 90s anymore (as much as I long for them sometimes), step away from the Dep. Instead, try a finishing cream. My favorite is Tresemme Anti-Frizz Secret.

Turn off the water in your shower, flip your head a couple of times to get the excess water out, and wrap it in a towel for the amount of time it takes you to brush your teeth and shave your armpits. (For those of you who do not do these things when you get out of the shower, then keep the towel on for 3-5 minutes) Then:
A) Gently remove the towel
B) Put a little cream in your hands and smooth it over your head, top to bottom. Do NOT run your fingers through it.
C) Put a little more cream in your hands and flip your head over. Then scrunch, gently all around your head.
D) Flip hair over to one side of your head and scrunch again.
E) Repeat on other side of head.
G) Let air-dry
H) KEEP YOUR DAMN PAWS OFF OF IT.

After all that?

Voila!

(The Cigar is optional)

Curls!

And if all that fails? Look, ponytail holders are out there for a reason, there's no need to fry your hair beyond recognition. Embrace the curls!

California Dreaming

2008-11-12T20:59:00.020-05:00

I survived the crazy family tour, but not unscathed.
The first stop was Seth's mom's house, where we ate homemade corn chowder and sour-dough rolls fresh out of the oven. Seth's mother presented me with a gift, which caught me off guard in that "Shit. Was I supposed to get YOU a gift too?" kind of way. Betsey Johnson socks which were adorable and saved my butt because it was a lot colder out there than I was expecting it to be. We woke up the next morning and bummed around the house for a bit before heading out to Grandma and Grandpa's where I was presented with another gift. (DAMMIT) Grandpa's not as young as he used to be and originally thought Seth was somehow his great grandchild. Once he got over that he was pretty easy going and took me aside to make sure I was a reader and to show me the books he likes. I was thankful that I had a book on me so I was able to go, "Yes! Definitely a reader! Look! I have a book right here! That I am reading! Because I like to read!" Ahem....not to sound over eager or anything...um...yeah.

We managed to convince Grandma and Grandpa to come back to Seth's mom's house for dinner, but took a detour on the way home. Grandma has a thing for discounts and decided to present her favorite grandsons with day old bread. A LOT of day old bread. So we stopped by the duck pond where we were LITERALLY ATTACKED BY RABID DUCKS. No, seriously...check it:They marched out of the water as soon as we arrived and surrounded us:

Seth, his brother and I threw bread at each other and got to feel the curious sensation of ten ducks pecking our toes. I wouldn't advise it.

Seth's mom made a delicious beef stew for all of us, which I ate a lot of, impressing parents and grandparents alike with the size of my appetite. Hooray for being a fatty!

The next day the three of us headed out to Seth's dad's house where I almost murdered my boyfriend. You see, Seth had mentioned that he grew up in a big house his father built, and that a lot of people had docks in their back yards. What I pictured was an old beachfront community, or lake houses or something. What I was not picturing was a GATED FUCKING COMMUNITY. With a golf course next door and palm trees. I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR THIS AT ALL. Seth's brother and I were outside talking a little while after we arrived when a covered golf cart went by, followed almost immediately by a teenager on a four-wheeler. It was at that point that I collapsed onto the grass and had to lie down for a little bit.

When Seth showed me around the house and got to the room his father and step-mother had converted into a movie theatre I beat the crap out of him. "OW! You're acting like I have an ex-wife and two kids!"
"This" punch. "is pretty much" punch punch punch. "the same" punch punch "to" punch. "me." punch punch punch punch punch. "Asshole."

Please check out the view from the guest bedroom balcony:

I can't get the picture to turn, but you get the general idea.

Oh, and please note that the balcony is bigger than my bedroom.

Dude could have said SOMETHING, you know?

There was only one major foot in mouth moment when I decided to tell Seth's father, the pastor, about the time my father draped himself in snakes and told the Jehovah's witnesses that we worshipped Satan in our house. Um...oops.

After visits with all the step siblings and their kids and some burritos (HOLY WEST COAST BURRITO, BATMAN), we headed to San Francisco to chill out and hang out with friends. It was very nice to be able to not worry about what was coming out of my mouth for a little while. I also met that friend that I was scaaaaaaaared of meeting. She was not as scary as I thought she would be and even gave me a hug!

So all in all it was a good trip. And I'm happy that the meet the family part is out of the way, but wish we had more time in SF with friends.

Oh Right

2008-11-05T04:35:00.001-05:00

And this

Try getting it out of your head.

Also?

YAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!

I know, I know.

2008-11-05T03:58:00.001-05:00

I posted this before.

But we COULD. And we DID. And that is AMAZING.

Holy shit, guys...we DID IT.

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!! Or "Liveblogging from Greenwich Village"

2008-11-04T23:39:00.002-05:00

People are screaming, whooping and hollering in the streets. Horns are honking. Strangers are high-fiving and smiling at each other. There are shouts of "OBAMA!!!!" coming from taxis, apartments and bars.

I can not begin to explain how different this feels from the last election. People are HAPPY. No one is drinking whiskey and mourning.

So this is what history feels like. I love it.

Vote Vote Vote Vote...Voted!

2008-11-04T18:09:00.005-05:00

My right to vote was taken away during the last election.

I knew I was going to be in Portland for election day, so I applied for an absentee ballot in late September and was assured I wouldn't have any problems. A week before the election, when my ballot had still not arrived, I called the New York State Board of Elections and was once again assured that my ballot would turn up in time for the election. Finally, the day before the election I called again and told them that, no, I had still not received my ballot and what the hell was going on here?

They basically told me that I was shit out of luck.

After the election had passed and New York had (thankfully) gone blue, I found out that just about everyone else I knew who had applied for an absentee ballot that year had never received it.

That's just screwed up.

So I just voted in my first presidential election and it felt good. And tomorrow I go to CALIFORNIA!

I lent Seth my little rolling suitcase that I've used for all my trips this year thinking I had another one and forgetting that Dusty had taken it. So now I'm heading out with a GIGANTIC suitcase which will end badly because I am the mother of all over packers. Especially when I'm nervous and don't know what to wear for any given occasion. Enough outfits for a month? Probably. Too many pairs of shoes? Check. (I once brought ten pairs of shoes, including heels, to a seven day trip to my grandmother's house. My grandmother lives in a cobble-stoned and very steep village in France. There is no way in hell I would be wearing heels there. Ever.)

On top of all that I'm going to get my period this week (and you were wondering why this post was tagged "TMI" HAH!) which means, because I am reaaaaaaaally paranoid, I will also be bringing just about every pair of underwear I own. Because I am out of my damn mind.

And now we wait for the results to come in.

It can't go to McCain, can it? Could anyone possibly vote for a man who would pick a running mate this stupid?

They just couldn't.

UPDATE: as of 9:30pm it's 174 to 69, and Obama only needs 270 to win.

HELL TO THE YES, PEOPLE!

Seth Saved The Day

2008-11-01T17:44:00.002-04:00

And brought me some white paint.It turned out awesome.

Halloween Costume FAIL

2008-10-30T19:26:00.006-04:00

Sooo, remember my grand-plan to be a refrigerator for Halloween? The idea came from a kid I went to elementary school with who dressed like a fridge in the third or fourth grade and I thought it was awesome. So at the ripe old age of twenty-four I thought I would do it too! Then I saw this on the Internet:
And thought "YES! YES! My dream costume + blood = awesome!"

So I went to work...and I thought I was doing pretty well, until it came time to paint the damn thing. If you look at the instructions for creating that costume it very clearly says "We spray-painted the entire thing white". Well, they must be LYING because spray-paint does not seem to work very well on cardboard.

Behold:
Yeah...the tape? Totally spray-painted. The cardboard? Not so much.

So now I'm trying to figure out what else I can be that involves this damn box-costume I've built. Maybe a present with a dead head inside? Like in Se7en? Or a kissing booth with a zombie in it? Or...um...a hobo at home?

I have no idea. I'm really at a loss.

And on top of everything else I feel like death on a pancake. I've had this cold for a week or two now and today it was terrrrrrible. The spray-paint fumes? Not helping my headache very much.

So yeah...any ideas would be much appreciated.

If all else fails I'll just cover myself in blood and call it a day. "What are you this year?"

"Bleeding."

Love

2008-10-30T14:52:00.003-04:00

I can't get the video to embed.

Go here, okay?

http://www.comedycentral.com/videos/index.jhtml?videoId=189761

The Clogs, they are trying to kill me.

2008-10-26T16:44:00.004-04:00

The lovely Miss Karin decided yesterday that I should vomit on everything. Or have a seizure. Or perhaps both. She sent me an e-mail with a subject line reading "ahem" and no content other than a link.

A link to something terrible:

Yes, these actually exist.

They are quite possibly the worst shoes I have ever seen in my life. EVER. Ugg Clogs? REALLY? I swear someone out there is trying to kill me. It's the only logical explanation. No one would actually WEAR these...would they?

I'm sorry I subjected you to them, but I couldn't suffer in silence. I just couldn't.

To make up for it, if you are in the NYC area and have a love for donuts, please check out this place: The Doughnut Plant

It's on the Lower East Side and the doughnuts are OUT OF THIS WORLD. Seriously, make a trip. It's worth it.

Kisses!

Happy Friday! Er...Saturday. Whatever

2008-10-25T01:34:00.002-04:00

I am afraid of a lot of things. I'm afraid of bugs, rats, roaches, vermin in general, dying alone, being an orphan, growing up, the dark, frostbite, falling...the list goes on and on. I am also afraid of exceptionally old people. Not normal old people, but people who seem like they've always been old. Does that make sense?

At the beginning of this semester, in my first class, an exceptionally old person strolled in (with the help of her walker). I would have been perfectly okay with this had she not sat in my line of sight. And by "line of sight" I mean in the seat DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME. Not okay.

The scariest part about the exceptionally old lady is that her makeup is always exactly the same. Like it's tattooed on or something. Her eyebrows are painted on, her lips are painted on, she doesn't even look like a person. Which is freaky. She seems very nice, but there's something about her where she looks a little like a corpse already. Just having her in the class freaks me out, for two main reasons:
1) I'm terrified that she's just going to stop showing up to class one day. Because she's dead.
2) I'm afraid that NO ONE is going to mention the fact that the freakishly old lady in our class has suddenly stopped showing up because no one wants to bring up death.

And that just plays into my fears of dying alone, etc etc.
This lady never speaks in class, she nods and smiles, and seems perfectly coherent, but still somehow, absent. Or already dead. She might be a zombie! I wouldn't be able to tell because of all the makeup!

Does that make me terrible? I should probably just make an effort to talk to this woman , as we sit very close to each other twice a week, but I'm afraid to. There's another aspect of it where I'm afraid to talk to her and make a connection if she's going to kick the bucket in the next five minutes.

And the worst part is that I can't tell if that makes me a terrible person or simply a cautious one.

On a completely unrelated note - please read David Sedaris's piece about undecided voters in the upcoming election:

I look at these people and can’t quite believe that they exist. Are they professional actors? I wonder. Or are they simply laymen who want a lot of attention?

To put them in perspective, I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. “Can I interest you in the chicken?” she asks. “Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?”

To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked.

You can read the rest on the New Yorker website, or in this week's New Yorker Magazine.

Also? I have a pimple INSIDE MY NOSE. It hurts like hell.

Just let me sit down for five minutes, okay?

2008-10-16T22:09:00.007-04:00

So today!

9:00am - left the house

9:30am - Got to the office

9:30am-1:15pm - Sat at my desk, answered e-mails, responded to messages, etc. (Booooooring)

1:15pm-2:00pm (I shit you not) - Starbucks, back to my office with a botched order and BACK TO EFFING STARBUCKS. Longest. Coffee-run Ever.

2:00pm-4:30pm - Back at my desk...nothing to see here, move along. Oh, there was one thing - bought my ticket to CALIFORNIA! Woo hoo!

4:30pm - 4:45pm - Break! Lovely lovely break.

4:45pm - 5:45pm - Work! Showed off my Photoshop skills. Woo hoo!

5:45pm - 6:15pm - Running to the train and up to the garment district before my tailor closed.

6:15pm - Picked up my lovely well fitted bridesmaid dress for the Tigerlily-Boss wedding! (Which is Saturday. By the skin of my teeth, I know. Better late than never, right?)

6:30pm-7:30pm - Shot down to my mom's house, dropped off the dress, talked about the dress, changed my clothes, etc.

7:30pm - 9:30pm - Went to Union Square in hunt of shoes to wear with said bridesmaid dress. Went to five different stores. Ended up purchasing the first pair of shoes I saw at the first store I went to. Of course. Went to Barnes and Noble to find two books I desperately need. They were not in stock. Of course.

9:30pm - now. - Took train to my apartment, picked up a beer. Sat down and took a deep breath, updated blog, etc.

On the schedule for the rest of the evening? It gets better! (In that "this is going to suck" kind of way)

Finish beer and blog.
Throw some clothes in a bag.
High-tail it back to my mom's.
Throw together a two-page paper.
Do a touch of laundry.
Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

I'm really looking forward to the sleep part.

My mother, my mother's best girlfriend (who happens to be male and straight), and Seth are all heading to the wedding together on Saturday afternoon. Finally, after much deliberation, my mother has decided on an outfit for the wedding which does not a)make her look old, b) make her look out of date or c) make me cringe. I'm very proud of her. It took a couple of tries. But she got it! Woo hoo! The men will most likely be wearing suits.

So, California...Though not the explicit purpose of the trip - I will be meeting Seth's parents and step-parents and grandparents for the first time while I am out there. Which is exciting! And also a little nerve racking. I know it shouldn't be a big deal and it's only fair since Seth has met, oh you know, my ENTIRE FAMILY. And he was fine! So I should be too! Right? Plus I get to see his brother again who I haven't actually seen since well before Seth and I got together. I'm looking forward to that, as well as seeing friends who have been out to visit New York in the past two years.

The other thing that makes me nervous? Meeting Seth's old friend and roommate who I'm (for no particular reason) completely convinced is going to hate me and stab me through the eye. Seth has not done much to quell these fears, though other friends of theirs have. I'm just completely convinced she's not going to like me, or think I'm good enough for her friend. or something. Paranoia much? Hello and welcome.

Oooooookay, back to running around.

Hello Internet!

2008-10-14T19:46:00.003-04:00

I'm alive! Hi, yeah...sorry.

Wedding Madness got the best of me and I've been a little stressed out and a little MIA. Oops.

So yeah...Portland was lovely, as was the wedding I attended the following weekend. I rode a horse for the first time! It hurt my butt. I also learned that horses are large scary beasts and being on a cranky one can be a little terrifying. Which might explain my face in this picture:
Uh-huh...having a greeeeeeeat time. (Actually, I had a lovely time when Red [that was his name, Red] was behaving.)

So...what else what else?

I'll bullet the main points because I am running late (of course):

-Seth and I are officially back together. We've changed our Facebook status and everything! Internet sanctioned relationship. Totally official.

-I'm planning on dressing up as a refrigerator for Halloween. I will post pictures.

-I seem to be going to California in about two weeks.

-The Tigerlily is getting married on Saturday and then wedding madness will be over!

-My cousin Anne got married this past Saturday, but unfortunately I had to miss it. I saw the pictures and she looked amazing and happy and yay! Congrats, cousin!

-I saw my Grandmother last week. She's still awesome, in case you were wondering.

-I will get better at blogging once I get back into the swing of things. I am fully aware that this entry was not my best.

KBAI

the day of eating.

2008-09-25T07:20:00.002-04:00

when I don't have to post from iPhone I am posting my personal food tour of Portland. Because, holy crap, I love the food here. For now? I am going back to watching 90210, because...oh it GOD...the original is fucking amazing. Love and kitties!

Midnight Dance Party

2008-09-24T18:02:00.003-04:00

Ah, Portland. How I love thee.

I got in at 11 last night, Vicky picked me up, and we went to "The Club.". The Club is actually a dive bar with an awesome jukebox and a large assortment of fried foods. Nom nom nom. They also have drink specials like "Jameson and Whatever" for four dollars. I did not partake, because Jameson can sometimes make a girl queasy. Theeeeeen we came back to V's apartment, all four of us, and had a Midnight Dance Party.

And the cops were called on us.

Awesome.

Update: Vicky wanted me to point out that our "Midnight Dance Party" didn't actually start until about 3am. (3am Dance Party just doesn't have the same ring to it) What can I say? I bring the party.

Portland, here I come!

2008-09-23T17:17:00.003-04:00

I am on my iPhone again, which makes posting complicated, but I have not updated in about a week now, so I thought I would check in. As I mentioned in the subject: I'm off to Portland! (Oregon, not Maine, in case you were wondering.)

Four years ago I spent about six weeks out there and I absolutely loved it, even if it was the inspiration for the very first "I hate clogs" post. I'm excited to see Vicky, her new apartment and my friends, some of whom I haven't seen since my last visit. Mostly I'm excited about going on vacation. I desperately need it.

Things I learned today:

I could have gotten to the airport a lot quicker if I actually looked at the map. There was no reason for me to go all the way to the bottom of Brooklyn from the upper east side. Oops.

Wearing an "I Love New York" shirt while dragging a giant suitcase all over the city is a stupid idea because people think you are a tourist and I am NOT a tourist. Thankyouverymuch. Hermph.

My grandmother reads this. Hi Gammy!

Relatively Easy

2008-09-16T11:32:00.004-04:00

Seth has a crazy painting deadline this week, so he asked me if I would come over and help him out with some stuff and I agreed. One of these helpful things includes cooking, so last night I made Martha's Casserole, a staple of my childhood. (It's also handy because there are lots of leftovers and you don't have to worry about cooking for a while.)

I don't know why the damn thing is so tasty. It's incredibly white-trash and simple, but people love it. And it's really really cheap.

Here's the recipe (in my mother's words):

Martha's Casserole

Boil 8 ounces of wide egg noodles. Cook a pound of hamburger until it's brown. Mix in two 8 ounce cans of tomato sauce. (Drain the hamburger first, otherwise things get a little greasy.) Mix 8 ounces of cottage cheese, 8 ounces of soft cream cheese, and about a quarter cup of sour cream, then mix in one bunch of chopped green onions (use part of the green, too, and trim off the tops and the first layer of skin). Put half the noodles in a casserole (the size I usually use, whatever the hell that is), then put the cream cheese mixture on top. Put the rest of the noodles on top of that, and then the meat mixture on top of THAT. Melt a quarter stick of butter and pour it over the top, then stick it in a 350 oven (don't forget to preheat) for 20 minutes.

Note: I learned last night that any size casserole dish will do. I got all worried because Seth didn't have the size I normally use and I was convinced that the whole thing would be screwed up. I was wrong. I also accidentally used 16 ounces of noodles rather than eight. It's still tasty. I'm eating the leftovers now. Apparently this dish allows a lot of room for error.

(I just reread the recipe and realized that the wording is a little wonky. If anyone wants a better worded version, let me know)

Clogs, Stupid Tattoos and Other Things

2008-09-08T20:57:00.009-04:00

On my train ride home this evening (after tracking down a text book that was supposed to be "incredibly easy to find because everyone has been using it for years" and only finding it in the third store I went to) I drafted a beautifully written blog entry in my head about the wonders of being in your late teens and early twenties. It was going to be all about the stupid decisions you make and how you'll never be anything like your parents and blah blah blah. Then I got into my apartment and ::poof:: it was gone. So instead you get pictures I took on my iPhone in the last few days.

You also get more bitching about clogs because HOLY SHIT...look at these:
But WAIT...it gets better!

Heels!

I mentioned the heeled clog in my first entry about them...behold.

I took these while stopping in Strawberry after tracking down the G.D. book. (Of which I got the last copy thankyouverymuch) As I continued my way through the mostly awful shoe section I came across the matching boots:

The shoe part appears to be plastic while the rest is made up of a thick sock. Why would you do this? Plastic for rain protection and sock for....? Soaking up rain? (Oh NO. I've just looked up the company, Betseyville, and they appear to be Betsey Johnson. But...but...I love Betsey Johnson. I do not, however, appear to love this particular shoe line. Take a gander. Are those not the worst things you have ever seen? Holy crap. I wear a lot of weird shit, but those are just awful.)

Right. Moving on.

The whole idea behind blogging about stupid decisions came from eyeing this on the train:

It says "Fuck Love" not "Fuck You" which is what it looks like for some reason.

Now, I'm all for tattoos. I have one myself that I am very fond of, and plan on getting at least one more. But the thing about tattoos, for me, is that if you're going to get something like this go all or nothing. Sure this is easy enough to cover up, but what happens when you're in your 40s on a company golfing trip and you keep getting asked why you're wearing long sleeves in ninety degree weather? "Well you see, when I was twenty I thought it would be a really good idea to get 'fuck' written in relatively large letters on my arm." If you're going to get "Fuck Love" get it across your knuckles. It'll fit.

I do believe tattoo acceptance is changing. They are so common among people my age that the corporate world is going to have to (and in some cases has begun to) deal with them. But at the same time, I'm not sure if there will ever be a time when having "fuck" written on your arm permanently will ever be completely okay. And on top of that, "Fuck Love"? What happens when you get married?

Stuff, Things, Etc

2008-09-02T19:24:00.003-04:00

Well , well, well. I have had a busy couple of days. For starters - I started classes again! Hooray!

I'm taking Asian American Literature and Pop Culture, and Latino Communities in the U.S. Thrilling, I know. I've only had two classes so far and am already slightly behind on my reading. Awesome! (I am very happy that I decided to take two classes rather than three this semester because I would lose my mind completely.)

In other news the Tigerlily had her Bachelorette Party this weekend and it was lovely lovely lovely. And a little nuts. And awesome. I danced like a maniac and maybe drank my weight in champagne. Like you do. I also stayed up until eight 'o' clock in the morning again, but unlike last time it didn't rain and I got to sleep outside. It was all I had wanted all summer and I finally got to do it after watching an amazing, though bleary, sunrise on the Tigerlily's deck. Then...at NOON, the Tigerlily woke me up and announced that we were going for brunch and pedicures. I tend to be relatively anti-pedicure as I don't like people touching my feet, but I was still drunk when I woke up and it seemed like a lovely idea. So we brunched, and pedicured, and ate food with Carolina and her boyfriend, and Shai came over. Excellent.

In other other news - a while back, when I was posting about my roommates regularly, a couple of people mentioned that I was a little mean about them in the blog. To which I responded, "Meh, they don't read it. No big deal!" Then the other day I realised that one of them just started to read it and now I feel like a bit of an ass. So - my darling Michael - I'm sorry and I love you and I will now only post nice things about you unless you do something really awful like set the house on fire. Kay? Kay!

Yesterday was supposed to be my big day of getting books and getting ready for my first real day of school. But I woke up as Seth was walking into my room to surprise me and the day kind of got away from me what with hanging out and breakfast burritos. It happens sometimes. The not finishing all my reading didn't even end up being an issue, so my day of well earned leisure was totally okay.

Sometimes a girl just needs a day off.

Mystery of the week - Versailles Boutique on 8th Street

2008-08-27T12:02:00.008-04:00

Versailles Boutique has been on the corner of 8th street and MacDougal for about as long as I can remember which is a complete mystery to me. "Why is it a complete mystery?" you wonder?

Hello and welcome. Who the hell is shopping at this store? It's super expensive, so it's not strippers, unless they are like...really high end strippers or something. Paris Hilton maybe?
Hold on, there's more:

Seriously...What. The. Fuck.

Aaand it gets worse:
Just LOOK at this stuff! I am completely flabbergasted every time I walk past this place. It just doesn't make sense. The only people who dress like this are drag queens and Lil' Kim and those two markets are simply not enough to keep a high end (high end as in expensive, not classy...obviously.) shop alive for so many years.

The best thing I've found on the place? A review on Yahoo!:

"Cousin to the better known L'impasse across the street, Versailles features more of the same made in France high quality outrageous diva fashion. Pink leather bustiers studded with rhinestones, furry bikinis and slinky low cut evening dresses. Whatever you want that is trendy, you are sure to find it at Versialles."

What the fuck trends are these people following!

What this blurb should read is:

"Cousin to the better known L'impasse across the street, Versailles features more of the same made in France high quality outrageous diva fashion. Pink leather bustiers studded with rhinestones, furry bikinis and slinky low cut evening dresses. If you want to look like a complete whore, please shop Versialles."

Also, "better known L'impasse"? Better known to whom, exactly?

Anyone? Bueller?

This store breaks my brain.

The lolcats understand me

2008-08-22T18:07:00.001-04:00

See?

They understand!

Thanks ICHCB!

iPhone!

2008-08-21T20:47:00.002-04:00

I'm posting from my iPhone, Bitches!

It's hard.

The end.

What year is it? Part II

2008-08-20T10:07:00.005-04:00

It's official. We are in a time warp.Everclear, Soul Asylum and Cracker are playing Webster Hall. Together. Tonight. It's definitely 1997. I imagine the show will be filled with people far too old for flannel and bleached hair.

I'm scared.

The Tigerlily also pointed out a trend I forgot to mention in Part I. Pegged Jeans. I found this photo on flickr under the headline "Pegged jeans are totally coming back." Fuck you, dude! Don't say that. It's not funny.

What year is it?

2008-08-19T10:08:00.005-04:00

So I've been seeing a lot of clothing recently that convinces me it is 1993 and not 2008. (Granted, this is coming from a girl wearing cutoff shorts over leggings at the moment, but no matter. I love the 90s and have never fully been able to let them die.) There's a difference between honestly loving the 90s and being a fashion whore. There is also a huge HUGE problem when things like this begin popping up in stores:

You have got to be fucking kidding me. Suede-rhinestone peace sign-heeled clogs. (If you don't know about my hatred of clogs, feel free to catch up.) I took this photo on Saturday, and no, I hadn't been in the TARDIS. (Points for anyone who knows what I'm talking about.) This trend can't be coming back. I won't stand for it!

I'm happy to embrace some throwbacks. Leggings? Fine. I shunned them for a while but MAN are they comfortable. The return of the Bedazzler? Awesome! Bedazzling is fun! (Though the new Bedazzler kind of sucks. It just doesn't seem to work as well as the old one.) The Music? Oh yes. 90s Dance Parties are the absolute best.

And then there are others that I am simply not having. And I keep seeing them, and I keep hoping I'm imagining the whole thing.Motherfucking high-heeled sneakers. No. No. No. No. No. They were not a good idea in 1996 (when I owned not one, but two pairs of chunky heeled tan sneakers) and they are not a good idea now.

They're just so trashy.

Dammit Dammit Dammit

2008-08-18T21:02:00.003-04:00

Thanks to my mother, I am a relatively good cook. I can roast a chicken, I can make pork chops in various ways, and I make a mean salad dressing. Only two basic things have eluded me: rice and scrambled eggs.

On Sunday morning, for the first time in my life, I managed to make decent scrambled eggs. After being up all night with a group of friends no less! They weren't just broken up fried eggs, they were actually scrambled, and they were tasty! And the right consistency! I was very proud of me.

So tonight I thought I would try rice again. I beat one of my cooking phobias this week, why not try another? Right?

Wrong. I still can't manage to make rice that isn't crunchy in the middle. And this rice is so good too! It's a recipe I got from Seth where you use a can of tomato sauce in place of one cup of water and let the rice cook with diced onions and garlic. Then you melt cheddar cheese on top of it and it's freaking awesome. Except not when it is crunchy.

So attention people who cook - HEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPP!!!

(Now that I think about it, my mother could never do rice too well either. And the woman is incapable of cooking fettuccine. It is without fail uncooked in the middle. Hi Mom! I love you!)

Two Quick Things

2008-08-18T10:21:00.003-04:00

1) I was a runner-up in the Headline Contest over at Overheard in New York!

In the 70s They Called That a 'Nose Job'.

JAP: I did the whole Manhattan/Long Island/Westchester Jew thing this year.
Guy: How'd that work out?
JAP: I think I'm going to cut that phase in my life.

--NYU

Overheard by: A. Pincus

Headline by: Still got my original nose.

Runners-Up:
· "By Which I Mean the Inside Of My Thigh" - Tadzio
· "I Realized I Can Keep the Sense Of Entitlement Without All That Extra Work." - stoobydoo
· "I Think Hitler Tried That Already...." - Sarah Booz
· "I'll Tell the Guy Who's Ghost-Writing My Autobiography Later Today" - Louis
· "JAP Code for I Was Slutty and Need an Abortion" - Casual Observer
· "Sort Of a "Lifestyle Bris"" - Chris

Click here to see the new Headline Contest

via Overheard in New York, Aug 18, 2008

2) My favorite neighborhood graffiti is gone.

R.I.P. Penis on wheels.

What in the world is going on?

2008-08-15T11:29:00.006-04:00

No, seriously. This week the following stories have popped up in the news:

1) There is a Flat-Earthers Society. No, really. From Fox News:

"People are definitely prejudiced against flat-Earthers," Tennessee-based computer scientist and society member John Davis tells the BBC. "Many use the term 'flat-Earther' as a term of abuse, and with connotations that imply blind faith, ignorance or even anti-intellectualism."

These people think that the moon landing was faked, as well as the images sent back to us. (Well, naturally. You can't take pictures from the moon if you haven't actually BEEN to the moon, can you?) They also believe that Antarctica forms an ice circle around the entire circumference of the Earth Disk, keeping the atmosphere in or something. That just doesn't seem right to me. But then again, I'm a Round-Earther or "RE'er" for short. Seriously, check out their site. It's fascinating.

2) The Chupacabra has been found! Maybe. A cop claims he saw something that definitely wasn't a dog while on a "routine fence inspection drive" (whatever that is).

I don't know. It looks kind of like a dog to me. It also reminds me of this thing:

With a longer snout. Right?

3) Apparently Bigfoot has been found.
That's him. Dead. Chilling in a freezer. There's a press conference in California at noon today with DNA evidence. All together now - oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh. And there's more of them! Read the rest of the article here.

I always thought bigfoot looked like this:

(That's a cat I had, years ago, named Bigfoot. Check out the thumbs!)

Thanks to Geekologie for the tips.

Holy Crap! I'm ALIIIIIIIIIVE!

2008-08-12T20:38:00.004-04:00

So, yeah...I completely dropped off the face of the planet (okay, fine...just dropped the blog), but I can explain! I really can!

Work, basically, has been a zoo and on TOP of that - our Internet is down at home. So no blogging. See? Told you I could explain. (I win!)

Moving on...

Though Bushwick is not always the safest neighborhood, I am lucky enough to have a police station right down the street from my apartment. There is also a parking lot about a block away where they keep the police cars and I'm just dandy with it. On my way to work the other day, while passing the parking lot, I saw that not everyone is as thrilled with the police presence as I am:

Fuck Pigs. Isn't that lovely? It's literally right outside of the parking lot. I have to give the vandal credit, that takes balls.

In other news - YESTERDAY WAS MY BIRTHDAY! Hooray! I am now officially in my mid-twenties and that is relatively terrifying. I'm not against getting older, it's not something I can get around exactly, but the label scares me. "Mid-Twenties." How the hell did that happen? My present to myself this year was...bum bum bum!...
The gift of sight! Baby got a new pair of spectacles! My prescription had not been changed in about four years and being able to see again is really fucking WEIRD. I'm also having these fun depth perception problems which will pass, but these things are taking some getting used to. Please feel free to use the comments section to tell me how much you love my new glasses and how pretty I am.

Also - Also - Also - I finally tried Artichoke Bassile Pizza last night. I had the signature slice which was amazing, but a little too rich for my tastes. It's most certainly a share with a friend kind of snack. My pal M, who was nice enough to treat me to a birthday slice, likened it to a flat bread bowl,. I was reminded of a really good spinach artichoke dip and bread sticks. Something you can only eat so much of. I plan on going back and trying one of their tamer slices, but am disappointed that I didn't try this place sooner. I keep seeing reviews that say this place was a lot better when it first opened. I guess I'll never know.

But I'm alive! And blogging again! Happy, Garlic?

The End of an Era

2008-07-30T11:11:00.008-04:00

When I was fifteen or sixteen I discovered a coffee shop in the East Village called Cinema Classics and fell in love. You could stay as long as you liked, smoke inside, watch movies in the back and they made a mean chai latte. What was not to love? I went to Cinema Classics just about every day, hung out with friends, hung out alone, read books. (They had these great big cushioned window seats that you could curl up on for hours.) I took boyfriends there and knew the baristas...it was home. Slowly but surely, when I was seventeen, they started stocking booze and I found out that very shortly Cinema Classics the coffee shop would be no more, that the owner wasn't making enough money and decided to turn it into a bar. I didn't know when, but I knew it would be soon. It happened during my senior year of high school. I walked up after school with a friend of mine and tried the door. It was locked. The manager of the place, a guy named Ben, opened the door, said, "We're a bar now, we open at seven." and shut the door in my face.

The bar it became was Rififi and it only took about a year before I was back in there. My friend Lauren Flax (DJ Extraordinaire) and I were hanging out one night and she goes, "You have to come to Rififi and meet this bartender I have a crush on." (Underage drinking used to be a lot easier back then.) So I did, and it turned out that the bartender Lauren had a crush on was a girl I knew through a friend from high school and hadn't seen in years. Then, a few weeks later, I realized that someone else I knew (Karin) also worked at the bar. So I started hanging out there. When I was living in Boston I would come back to New York on the weekends and head straight to Rififi. There were four regular bartenders at the time and a whole slew of regulars and we all became good friends. Someone made a Friendster profile for the bar (that's how long ago this was) and it received comments like, "It's my "'Cheers'" to which someone responded, "Mine too. "'Where everybody knows your name.' Along with your dating history, music tastes, and financial situation." Because it was true. If you had nothing to do on any night of the week you could just head to Rififi and know that you'd know someone. I would head to Rififi after Christmas dinner with the family to hang out with the one Jewish bartender. We would play truth or dare and drink eggnog. People would come and go, but there was always a pretty solid group of regulars that you could count on.

There were nights when it was slow and whoever was working would shut down the bar so we could hang out until dawn watching movies in the back. (They still showed movies for a while.) After a while that all calmed down and they started doing comedy shows in the theater which attracted big names (Michael Showalter, David Cross, etc), on Sundays and Thursdays there were burlesque shows. It was a lot of fun. I even ended up working at the damn place for a while a couple of years ago.

In the past year or so I haven't hung out there nearly as much as I used to. Most of the people I knew who worked there quit or were fired, and I wasn't quite in the mood to make new friends. (There was also the added bonus of being unceremoniously fired myself.) So I went less and less, but it was still my go to bar when there was nothing else to do. Because, well, I grew up there. It felt comfortable.

For almost a year now rumors have been circulating that the bar would be closing, but it never happened. Then Tuesday night I got a text message from Karin saying, "Rififi closes tomorrow." And it was true. Wednesday night was the last night the bar was open. It was somehow fitting that bartender was completely random and I had to pay for drinks. It made it easier to say goodbye. My boss (who, oddly enough, I met at Rififi) likened the bar to "an old friend who you thought would always be there." Which I think is appropriate.

Friday night and nothing to do? To Rififi. When I saw my ex boyfriend for the first time in four years and it was terrible? I went straight to Rififi. When my friend got into a fist fight on First Avenue at 4:30 in the morning that resulted in my broken glasses and his broken nose? Rififi. Because I knew someone there would be able to provide napkins, ice, and whiskey.

So Rififi, I would like to thank you for the following things:

-My steady employment for the last four and a half years (Every job I've had in that time has been for someone I met at Rififi or at the bar itself)
-That guy I dated for over six months
- Embarrassing moments:
-Good Friends
-And a shit ton of free drinks.

Oh For the Love of....

2008-07-28T15:23:00.001-04:00

My mother is an asshole:

I went over to Astor Place today and got some order put into my hair. I was only going to have it trimmed and shaped, but it was so damn hot going over there that I changed my mind and said the hell with it. So now it's really cool. I got a fade with my initials in it and had the whole thing done magenta, which looks GREAT with my skin. You'll love it!

Love, Mom

That is all.

So Effing Angry

2008-07-27T20:01:00.003-04:00

Well, not now. Now I feel just fine, but on Friday night I almost killed a man. I mentioned a couple of posts back that my mother's neighbor was mugged in front of our house last week, which was scary and shitty and horrible. There's a building complex that runs through Greenwich Village that has security guards who patrol the area. Which is lovely and makes things feel a little safer around here; or it did until Friday night.

I was walking out of a cab when I saw one of the security guards and decided to ask him if anything else had happened, etc. So I said, "Excuse me!" No response. I walked a little closer and said, "Excuse me!" again. No response. So I finally tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and TOOK OUT HIS HEADPHONES. At which point I screamed at him for about five minutes. I asked if he knew there had been a pretty terrible mugging down the block last week and he said, "Not my jurisdiction." To which I responded, "WELL IF YOU HAD BEEN ABLE TO HEAR WHAT WAS GOING ON YOU MIGHT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO CALL THE POLICE OR SOMETHING YOU ASSHAT!"

I simply couldn't believe it! This guy is paid to keep an eye out in the neighborhood and he can't be bothered to turn off his music and be alert during work? Fuck that.

I'm going to report him when I see his supervisor again.

So. Pissed.

A New Bruise

2008-07-22T11:22:00.004-04:00

I have spent most of the last week at my mother's house because while I have air conditioning in my apartment, we're at the tail end of yet another heat wave and I don't have to pay for the AC at my mom's because she would have it on if I was there or not. So fuck it, right? Right.

I returned home last night to find old roommate and current roommate playing video games in the living room with our lovely new coffee table and a large amount of baked ziti. Lovely! (And also - free lunch!) It was when I decided to head to my bedroom that things started going downhill. I almost broke my neck because my roommate, for reasons best known to himself, had left my folding chair lying flat on the floor in front of my bedroom door. After navigating around the chair and picking it up, I get into my room and find that the television that used to be in our living room is, again for reasons best known to my roommate, balanced precariously on top of my small dresser. The hell? Since only two of us live in the apartment at the moment and we still haven't figured out what to do with the third room, which is empty, you would think that putting the television in there would make sense, right? Apparently not. So I moved the damn thing myself, dropped it on my left foot, and now have a lovely bruise that I feel with every step I take. Hooray!

When I finally made it into bed I looked up to see the shopping cart (you know, one of these:)

folded up on top of my closet. Where I can't reach it. I have explained to my roommate many times that the shopping cart lives in the living room, near the door, so that we can USE it. And I use the damn thing at least once a week.

I'm just a little aggravated about the whole thing.

Gossip! Gossip! Gossip!

2008-07-20T12:15:00.002-04:00

I am completely and utterly fascinated by celebrity gossip. I read Perez Hilton, I read The Superficial, I buy weekly tabloids for reading on the subway. And I don't even know why. I know they are stupid, I know half the "stories" they report are not true. I know that the celebrities themselves think the whole thing is creepy and horrible. I think the paparazzi are parasites and know first hand that they can be absolutely terrifying at times.

But I still can't help it.

There is some weird thing embedded in our culture today that makes it somewhat of a sin to not know that so and so is pregnant, or gay, or cheating on their lover. We want to know when a celebrity gets engaged the second they do it, yet we shun the celebrities who put their whole lives out there for us to see. (See, Speidi, Denise Richards, et al.) We want them to be secretive, but not so secretive that we don't know every detail. Because then we would be out of the loop, and God forbid we should be out of the loop.

Oddly enough, though I do read all this junk (and have been yelled at about, being told "Sarah. What have I told you in the past about that reading that trash. It's called trash for a reason. Remember? We talked about this.") I am rarely star struck. I grew up in Greenwich Village which is home to many a famous face, so seeing one while out and about became a normal occurrence. Actually, once, as a child, I was horrible star struck when we realized that a character from Mister Rogers lived in the neighborhood and was a friend of a friend and I got to meet her. I kind of flipped out, but I was four at the time. I think it's allowed. But other than that? Rarely am I totally freaked out by the prospect of seeing or meeting someone famous, because if you get down to it they are just people. They have no super powers, just good genes and more talent than the average bear.

Perhaps one day this whole reality culture and obsession about the lives of famous people will die down and we'll start asking for the autographs of people like Jonas Salk (invented a polio vaccine), the people who work for Merck & Co (invented the cervical cancer vaccine), or the yet unknown faces who will one day cure AIDS and Cancer. That seems like a much better group of people to look up to, rather than half the people kids are looking up to these days. Do you know there are actually kids out there who want to be just like the cast of The Hills? I mean, sure having money and doing nothing must be nice, but doesn't it get a little...I don't know...Boring?

I think I just want people to be smart and interesting again. Is that too much to ask?

Things that are really not cool that have happened in the past week

2008-07-19T04:42:00.003-04:00

-Amelia passing away. Not even passing away. Being killed. She was killed while riding her bike and it was shitty and scary and holy hell it could happen to any of us.

-Seeing a dead body for the first time. I have never, before last night, been at an open coffin anything. Amelia had one. And I was under the impression (because that's how it's shown in movies) that the bodies were fully IN the coffin and not propped up a bit so you can see them from anywhere in the room. I wrote about Amelia in this post. She was killed while riding her bicycle a week ago and it made me think about a lot of things. Those things include but are not limited to:
a) losing touch with friends and how shitty it is. This horrible tragedy brought a shit-ton of us together and I really wish it was under better circumstances.
b) how I never ever ever want to go to an open coffin anything ever again (girl was 24. Girl looked about 80 propped up for all of us to see. It didn't even look like her, besides the hair and clothing...it was awful)
c) How much people change.
d) How some people don't change at all.

- There was a mugging on my mother's block tonight. And the muggie happened to be a neighbor of mine whom I happened to have known for about ten years. Dude was mugged in front of our house and my mother had to call 9-1-1. I just ran into him and his parents coming home from the hospital. It is almost 5am. This is the neighborhood I grew up in and shit like this does not happen here. WTF?

-The X-Tina moved to Paris today. Which is actually very awesome, for her, but on top of everything else this week is kind of like, "really? Seriously? Just kick me in the shins!"

-----------------------------------

Mostly it has been a very strange/sad/insane week and I am tired, and sad, and freaked out.

And I guess that's it.

The one where I talk about nothing

2008-07-17T10:12:00.003-04:00

So, three quick things:

1) After watching Batman Begins again last night, I have determined the following things:
a) I am a huge HUGE nerd. (Actually, the huge nerd thing was solidified when I started trying to participate and then actually participated in the huge viral marketing campaign going on for Dark Knight. I am seriously going to pee myself I am so excited for this movie, and SO BUMMED OUT that I wasn't able to get tickets for tonight's midnight showing!)

b) I desperately, desperately want an Alfred. One who is Michael Caine (Who was born Maurice Micklewhite(!!). Knowledge is power!) might be the best thing ever.

c) I also want Lucius Fox to be my uncle. Alfred to be my Alfred, and Fox as my uncle. That would be AWESOME.

2) After looking at this, and with my new black hair and already pale skin....I can be Dita Von Teese? I mean, not so much with the nudity part, but with the fashion and the hair and the etc? Yeah? Awesome.

3)

Holy Helen Mirren in a bikini, people! I mean, seriously! Woman is in her SIXTIES. Maybe I'll be Dita Von Teese now and Helen Mirren later? That sounds like a pretty good idea.

Oh Hai Guys

2008-07-14T17:49:00.004-04:00

Remember how I dyed my hair black?

I really did!

Also - on Friday night I rode on the front of the Cyclone because I am BETTER THAN YOU.

Wooooooooooo!

On Being Afraid Of My Bicycle

2008-07-14T16:00:00.006-04:00

When Eric Ng was killed while riding his bike two years ago, the story hit home because I spent a lot of time on that bike path and always felt perfectly safe there. It very suddenly took away the security I had felt because I was not riding my bike in the street. Then, shortly afterwards, Seth spent six months working on a series of paintings about Ng's death and his memorial bike, known as a Ghost Bike. I learned a lot about what had happened on December 1st 2006, and became angry about it. The fact that some drunken idiot drove his car for almost two miles on the bike path without anyone noticing, the fact that someone was killed, the fact that it was a teacher. On the rare occasions I ride my bike these days, I am often on that bike path and I pass Ng's memorial, and I kind of wave at it. Because I'm not quite sure what else to do.

In 2007 when Craig Murphey was killed while riding his bike in Brooklyn, I was surprised to find out how many mutual friends and acquaintances we had, though I had never met him myself. I kept thinking, "This guy is one degree away from me..." which began to kill the "It'll never happen to me" mentality that so many of us hold on to. I know numerous people who have gotten tattoos to remember Murphey, and a few people who were very close to him, but not knowing him myself makes it difficult to know what to say when he comes up in conversation. It's kind of like, "Oh...I heard about that..." But then what?

Last night I was at a going away party for a favorite teacher of mine when I got a text message from a number I did not know saying, "Sarah?" And I wrote back saying, "Yes? Who is this?" "Amelia Geocos" and I wrote back, "Hah! How random! What's up?" I hadn't seen her in a while, but she was someone who kept popping into my life at random moments because we knew a whole lot of the same people, we both dated the same guy, and once briefly worked together. "It's Liz (a girl I had gone to high school with, who I didn't even know knew Amelia.)...Hey I saw you were friends with Amelia on facebook...I don't know if you know but she was killed the other day."

Woah. What?

As it turns out she was hit by a car while riding her bike on Friday and died instantly. That's the only detail I've been able to get, and that she will be getting a Ghost Bike and a memorial ride. I know a couple of people who were very close to her, so I made some phone calls and wrote some e-mails last night, just wanting to be here in case anyone needs anything. Because I know what it's like to lose someone close to you, and it sucks. And it's scary. And it's hard. Especially when it is someone so young.

So yeah...You were a good kid, Amelia...I hope I can be of some help to your friends during this time. You will certainly be missed.

Update: There is more information here and here.

A Collection of Open Letters

2008-07-09T21:40:00.003-04:00

Dear Men,
If you have decided that the event you are going to warrants wearing a button down shirt, it most likely warrants wearing shoes as well. Please stop pairing nicely pressed shirts and flip-flops. It makes you look slightly homeless.

Love,
Sarah

----------------------------------
Dear Women,
I don't care if they were sold together. I don't care if they match. I don't care how you think you look. A suit consists of either a skirt and a jacket, or pants and a jacket; never shorts and a jacket. Formal shorts are a myth. Please stop wearing them to meetings.

Love,
Sarah

---------------------------------
Dear Men Who Wear Cologne,
Cologne and aftershave have their places, but if I can smell you from down the block you are wearing too much. Stop bathing in the stuff, it is much more repellent than attractive.

Love,
Sarah

--------------------------------
Dear Homeless People,
If I am ignoring you now I will continue to ignore you. Puppy-dog eyes will not help. Shaking your cup faster will not help. I am reading a book AND listening to my iPod. Take the hint. Also - I see no reason to give you money for doing nothing. I am much more likely to give you money if you draw a picture, or read a poem, or do a dance. I have to work for my money, why shouldn't you?

Love,
Sarah
-------------------------------
Dear Everyone,
I got home before 10pm. Hooray for me! Also, in case you missed it (which a lot of you did), I dyed my hair black. Pictures will be up shortly.

Love,
Sarah

Giant Roaches and Fat Kids

2008-07-07T19:12:00.002-04:00

Today, while sitting at my desk at work, I felt something on my foot. I looked down to investigate and saw a WATER BUG scuttling away towards the kitchen. Rather than screaming, which I really would have liked to do, I said, "OH MY GOD!" very loudly, got up, and walked across the room. The rest of the office looked at me like I was insane. "There was a giant roach under my desk and it CRAWLED ON MY FOOT!" I announced. Two of the guys went to investigate, saw nothing, and deemed me delusional. "Uh huh...sure there was a giant roach..." I sat cross legged on my office chair looking very silly and occasionally sneaking glances under my desk to make sure the thing was really gone. About ten minutes later a scream comes from the next room. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!! THERE IS A GIANT BUG IN HERE OH MAI GAAAAAAHHHHHHDDD!" I looked at my office mates and said very loudly, "See? NOT CRAZY!" Someone attempted to kill it as it headed back for the kitchen but sadly it moved too quickly. As of press time the beast is still at large.

-----------------------------------

Would it be impolite of me to walk up to a perfect stranger and say, "Excuse me, ma'am? I couldn't help but notice that your eight year old son has breasts. Do you think maybe you shouldn't be stopping at the Mr. Softee truck again when I can still see the stains from your last visit? Just curious. Have a nice day!"?

Because, my GOD, I fight the urge about twenty times a day.

Actually, I never plan on being that polite. I mostly just want to run up to the kid and say something like, "PLAY TAG, FATTY!" or "HEY, TUBBY! VIDEO GAMES TO NOT COUNT AS EXERCISE!" And sometimes, "My LORD you are a rotund little thing!"

Maybe I'm just a bad person?

Pictures from my cellphone

2008-07-06T13:55:00.007-04:00

1)
I really wish I could have gotten a better picture of this guy, and also of the entire crew he was with. Dude is wearing super wide leg pants that for some unknown reason had pockets on the back of his calves. Really big pockets that I can't even imagine the thought process behind unless it was something along the lines of, "Well we have all this extra denim lying about, let's just stick some right, um....here." That was enough to make me twitchy, but then I noticed that - crap and a half - he is also wearing bright fucking orange Crocs. And holding a badminton racket. Then, I look to the right and notice that, you guessed it, his buddy is also wearing Crocs. And THEN I realize that there are three girls with these guys and two of THEM are wearing Crocs. It seriously almost ruined my brunch. And brunch is my favorite meal of the week!

2)
A couple of weeks ago, in the supermarket, I noticed this while searching for a can of tuna. The second I saw it I thought to myself, "There is no way in hell this is what I think it is. No one could get away with it!" So I picked it up, and I turned it around slowly and, lo and behold, the only ingredient listed was "monosodium glutamate." So it was what I thought it was and apparently, yes, they can get away with it. Whoever "They" are.

3)
On Thursday night, because Friday was a holiday, I ended up ending the night on the roof of my old apartment building. We decided we were going to stay up until 6am to get breakfast from this place called Bill's down the block, which has the weirdest fucking hours in the world. They are open from 6am until about 2pm...when they feel like it. Which is horribly disappointing because they make one of the best bacon egg and cheese sandwiches in the city. So 6am rolls around and three of us (including me wearing those socks you see in the picture and a pair of my friend Shai's slip on Vans because the shoes I had been wearing since 10am decided that my feet were a delicious snack and destroyed them completely) trek down to Bill's. Which is closed because of the fourth of July. Maybe. It could just be that they didn't feel like it. You never know with Bill's. So we decided to find another place in the neighborhood where we can get our snack on. A strangely large amount of exceptionally friendly people were awake in Bushwick at 6am on a Friday morning, so they tried to point us in the direction of snacks. Nothing was open. So, because Shai and his friend Michael both work in Kitchens, we decided to get a dozen eggs, a pound of bacon, some cheese and a baguette. Shai and Michael made the group a giant bacon egg and cheese sandwich and it was awesome.

By the time this picture was taken I had decided that I was sleeping on the roof, in the hammock, and it was going to be super awesome. Which is probably would have been, but about 30 minutes into my sleep it decided to rain, so Shai made me go back downstairs. I fought it, but in the end it was probably the best decision. I can't even imagine the sunburn I would have woken up with.Oh wait. Yes I can.

On Being Clumsy and Hating Boston

2008-07-03T20:03:00.002-04:00

So today my boss asked me into his office. (No, I didn't forget to wear pants again).
Him: What's up?
Me: Nothing.
Him: What's with the bruise on your arm?
Me: Oh! Coney Island. This ride knocked me around a lot.
Him: Oh. I thought you were in an abusive relationship or something. I haven't been in a fight in a while.

Ahahaha, awesome. Yeah, I bruise really easily. And also fall down a lot. I constantly look like a small child who spends far too much time in the playground.

So, you all remember what I looked like when I moved to Boston. No? Here. Read about it. There. All caught up? Great.

So, I hate hate hated living in Boston. Nobody wanted to talk to me because I didn't dress or look like the other people up there. I got ignored at parties, my self esteem took a pretty rough hit. I was looking at an old journal today when I found this:

I walked around a library today with my head held high and people looked at me like I was important. I felt important. Why can't I be important here? Why am I only important when surrounded by dust and decay? A boy who was reading stopped when I walked by and looked right at me. I got flustered and walked into a chair.

I am far, far too clumsy for my own good. The Tigerlily and I were talking about this the other night, and I always think about an Amalah post that says, "No, you cannot has nice things." Because it's true.

Tidbits in place of an actual post

2008-07-03T14:54:00.003-04:00

1) Watch this. If you don't find any of it funny we probably should not be friends:

2) I found my roommates! Both of them actually. They did kind things like help me take taxis and cook pasta. Awwww.

3) If my cheese steak does not get here soon I'm going to start gnawing on the walls.

4) It is ridiculously quiet at work today. Because everyone else has already left for vacation. Bastards.

5) I...um...I think I just like making lists.

6) To kill time.

7) While I wait for this G.D. sandwich.

8) Seriously...where the fuck is it?

9) Haven't eaten all day.

10) Require NOM NOM NOM

11) Oh, also - I'm really excited that 4th of July is on a Friday this year. I was really sick of going to some insane rooftop extravaganza in the middle of the week, only to be forced to go to work the next day. Eff that.

12) My birthday is on a Monday this year. Laaaaaaame.

13) Hey! The office phone just rang! I picked it up and all I heard was a man screaming "WHITE HERO! WHITE HERO!" The hell?

14) Got distracted for a minute in there...my sandwich? Still missing.

15) Fuck...LARPers are weird. Poke around for a bit.

16) Maybe I'll go pee. If I pee my sandwich will show up, right?

17) I didn't pee.

18) LIGHTNING BOLT!

19) MOTHER FUCKER WHERE IS MY SANDWICH??

20) People tend to look at you funny if you shout, "YOU ARE NOT MY SANDWICH!" As they walk by

21) SANDWICH!

ESL

2008-07-02T15:23:00.003-04:00

I have a coworker who, though his English is close to perfect, makes it very obvious that English is not his first language. In fact, dude speaks in what we've come to refer to as his own language.

This is my favorite example:

He never calls a pig a pig. They are always "porks." The first time we heard him say this was a couple of weeks ago when he said, "I'll be right back, I have to go heat up my porks." Which caused us all to fall into giggles. Then today, when trying to say that someone looked like a pig, what came out was "he looked just like a little porks!" So now all of us have taken to referring to our ham type food in the plural.

Actually, the Tigerlily has an amaaaaaaaazing recipe for porks...it involves a lot of onion and sage and NOM NOM NOM.

I'm such a crybaby

2008-07-02T11:32:00.002-04:00

Thanks, cuteoverload, for reminding me of the existence of this video:

Which makes me cry every single time I see it.

I can has lion cub?

UPDATE: Read the whole story here!

Missing Roommates

2008-07-01T18:38:00.004-04:00

My roommates have always been pretty good about getting me their rent on time, but for some reason, this month they have not. Which probably has something to do with the fact that I haven't seen either of my roommates in about a month. Hmmmm....I should probably call them.

Speaking of roommates, as of about two weeks from now I will only have one, which should be a nice change. I think that once roommate number three moves out, Michael and I are going to do a huge cleaning of the apartment, rearrange our furniture and maybe have a ::GASP:: housewarming party. Or maybe just have the option to finally invite people over. Because we never ever ever have company. (Actually, the whole thing will probably have to wait until the fall because OMG IT IS ONE MILLION DEGREES IN THIS APARTMENT GAAAHHHH)

But, even though it is warm, it looks like we will soon have a place for people to crash (probably a futon) because we will have an extra room. Hooray!

Yeah, yeah, a lame update...leave me alone!

Another weekend of madness

2008-06-29T23:00:00.008-04:00

My weekend had all the elements of a good soap opera. There were reconciliations, cutting of ties, unexpected occurrences, surprise guests, and various other things that I, of course, can not blog about. (I'm a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in an AWESOME rack.)

Actually, a short bit about the cutting of ties, mostly because I want to make very clear that I had nothing to do with it. I have this thing about me where I like to stay in touch with my ex boyfriends. Mostly because, as I figure it, if someone meant a lot to you they should continue to mean a lot to you, even if you aren't sleeping together anymore. (Unless they, I don't know, raped your puppy or something.) Apparently not everyone feels this way, which I understand. Sort of. I just don't like losing touch with people, especially people who I thought were awesome enough to spend a ridiculous amount of time on. So yeah...end of rant.

Anywaaaaaaaaaaaay...

The weekend, she was insane. On Thursday and Friday I had Jury Duty which was completely uneventful because everyone was settling out of court so as not to be stuck in the city over Fourth of July Weekend. Which is, well, shitty. On Friday night it was time for Fireworks at Coney Island! MY FAVORITE THING OF ALL! Except, well, I got to Coney Island at 7pm and nobody else got there until 9pm. So I took some photobooth pictures by myself...because I'm a nerd. Then, FINALLY, people showed up and the fireworks started and, as usual, they were effing amazing. Seriously, if you happen to be in NYC on a Friday and have not made it down there for these, please please please make the effort. For starters, Coney Island is not nearly as far away as it's made out to be. Seriously. And secondly - beer + fireworks + RIDES + FIREWORKS + photobooths + Fireworks + More beer and Chilidogs = slightly different and more fun than your normal Friday Night plans.

Plus, you get lovely souvenirs like these:

(I'm just happy I managed to keep my eyes open on both rides. And also - didn't ride on the back of the cyclone this time...because, holy SHIT. Never again)

On Saturday I had brunch, and went to the MoMA where I saw a really cool exhibit by Olafur Eliasson, the guy who put a waterfall under the Brooklyn Bridge. You walked into the exhibit via a hallway lined with yellow lights that made everything look like it was in black and white. Which was slightly eerie because you were suddenly stuck in an old movie. (I was told about the exhibit by the woman from Jury Duty who I had lunch with on Friday. This same woman, after hearing about my mother, walked up to her on the street today and said, "Are you related to Sarah?" No joke. Apparently my mother and I do look alike, though I still think I look like my father.) There was a circular room that changed color and made everyone in it change color which was pretty cool, and there was also a room with falling water and strobe lights that looked like glitter. It was worth the trip, but unfortunately is closing tomorrow, so unless you've got the day free you won't see it.

From the museum I endured torrential downpours and ended up at a Korean BBQ restaurant for a party that was half celebrating a birthday and half sending off a friend of mine who decided to leave NY before he was deported. It. Was. Ridiculous. We ate an amazing amount of food including pork belly, which is seriously one of the best things ever. This is because it is essentially bacon and I will eat anything involving bacon. (A coworker of mine once remarked that he would probably eat a turd if it was covered in bacon. Because, dude. BACON!) From there we walked down to the east village where we all drank what was probably far too much and then a small group of us ended up on the roof of the friend who moved today to watch the sunrise. And also to eat sandwiches and drink absolutely terrible blueberry beer. I got home far, far too late.

Today was Gay Pride Day which involved fruitlessly looking for a street fair with X-tina (my best friend and furure maid of honor), and heading to the Tigerlily's for a bit before coming back downtown for more fireworks. Last year the Pride fireworks were terrible and lasted approximately three minutes before pooting out quietly, so this year they made up for it by having a barge slowly moving downt the Hudson River shooting off a spectacular show for over half an hour. It ruled.

And now, I think it's bedtime. I haven't gotten nearly enough sleep and my head is relatively jumbled from this weekend's events. I can has snow day?

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

2008-06-26T21:47:00.002-04:00

When I was fifteen or sixteen years old my high school held a voluntary trip up to SUNY Oswego so we could "experience college life." Girls thought, "Oh my God! College Guys!" And guys thought, "Sweet! College girls!" And a lot of us also thought, "Hooray beer!" This trip was to take place on a Thursday and Friday, so on top of everything else we would be missing two days of school. Almost the entire grade convinced their parents to let them go on this trip. "We want to see what college classes are like and learn about the application process! We really, truelym desperately want to talk to people who have been where we are now! Our attendance on this trip has nothing to do whatsoever with our desire to attack attractive and older people, nor does it have anything to do with our desire to drink illegally!" We all batted our eyelashes very well.

During the one night we stayed up there very few of us slept, two guys got so stoned they were falling into things, and we drank a lot of beer. (Well, a lot then. I think a guy named Jimmy topped out at three beers and threw up. We were fifteen! Maybe sixteen! Give us a break!) Other NYC public high schools (the private school sect tends to shy away from public universities) were also invited on this excursion, so our pool of potentially attractive people shot up remarkably. A bunch of us were sitting in a dorm room talking when one of the girls, from one of these other schools, while slightly drunk, decided to address the group with a serious inquiry.
"Do you want to go to a urban school or a woo woo school?" Confused glances were exchanged between myself and the other people she was addressing.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"Do you want to go to an urban school or a woo woo school?"
"I..." I paused. "A what?"
"Woo woo! Woo woo! I can't say it right!" She looked upset with herself.
Someone else finally ventured a guess. "Do you mean rural?"
"Yes! Woo woo! That's what I meant!" At which point we all dissolved into giggles. Poor girl.

I got home the next day, absolutely exhausted and damning myself for making plans to go to a rave that night. But I was a raver, and a lot of people I knew were going to be at the party, so I got dressed up in a very silly outfit, far too much plastic jewelry, and about a pound of glitter. (I spent most of my time from the ages of 12-16 absolutely fucking COVERED in glitter. ::barf::) I got to the party at about ten and by eleven thirty I was all tuckered out. So instead of going home like I should have, I simply found a nice corner and went to sleep. At a rave. With music so loud most people were wearing earplugs. But oh no, I just went, "Well this looks nice! I think I'll just curl up...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

I bring all this up because last night my friend Matty and his roommate Jim threw a movie watching extravaganza on their roof. We watched an episode of The Real Ghostbusters cartoon, followed by Ghostbusters, followed by Ghostbusters II. It was really really awesome. I announced to Matty and Jim early on in the evening that I was crashing on their couch because while I only live a ten minute walk away, it is not a ten minute walk I should be taking at one in the morning. Because eek! Scary! So halfway through Ghostbusters II I excused myself to pass out on the couch. I woke up at seven this morning to Matty going, "Sarah! It's seven am, my alarm didn't go off!" (Dude has to be at work ridiculously early.) I gathered my things while he got ready and he goes, "Dude, Sarah. You were OUT last night. We had like twenty people in the apartment and you didn't wake up at all. I kept saying, 'guys, there's a girl asleep on the couch!' and they kept saying, 'She's not awake.'" Because I can sleep through anything.

The reason for this is because when I was growing up, and my parents were invited to a party, babysitters were expensive. So rather than get one, they would simply drag me along for the ride. When I got tired I would go up to one of them and tug on their shirt and say, "I'm tired!" At which point they would direct me to a corner, give me their coat to sleep on and let me sleep. Which I would, quite happily. I have vague memories of being carried out of parties (as a child, people! Come on!) and waking up to say things like, "Oh, are we leaving?" And then waking up in my own bed in the morning. I was actually trained by my parents to be able to sleep through anything. Which might explain my inability to work with alarm clocks. I hear them, but it's just so much easier to keep sleeping.