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Love. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Holy Shit - Seriously?

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. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

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

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. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

It was bound to happen soon enough

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! ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

You Are All a Bunch of Creeps

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. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

JUST WAIT ANOTHER WEEK AND A HALF, PEOPLE

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. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Clogs, Stupid Tattoos and Other Things

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?

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What year is it? Part II

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. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

What year is it?

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. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

So Effing Angry

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. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Gossip! Gossip! Gossip!

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? ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves