Tuesday, September 18, 2007


I've barely been near my shithole apartment in the past month. I've been up in a quiet residential neighbourhood, housesitting for my parents. This means that I've been hanging out in a backyard, where they have trees and plants and no used condoms or smashed bottles of Colt 45! I know, totally unreal.

Anyway, I was out on the back deck last night, and I looked over at a rosehip bush in the corner of the yard. It's droopy branches were tinging bright hues of red and yellow and orange... There was no denying it, summer is finally over.
"Fuck you, rosehip bush", I yelled out, "I'm not ready for autumn". However, when I woke up this morning, the leaves had not turned back to green. Hmm. I guess I have no choice in the matter: fall is here whether I like it or not.

I try to embrace the changing of the seasons every year, but the truth is, the only time I'm okay with it is when it's getting hotter out.

Part of the reason why I'm not a fan of cold weather is that I hate coats with my whole heart. Correct me if I'm wrong, but coats are the least flattering piece of clothing that anyone can wear (this includes palazzo pants and those fake-tattoo shirts). You know, maybe I shouldn't be talking about "flattering clothing", as I've got the precise body-type that should probably be covered up with several coats at all times, but the truth is, a coat can put a damper on the most amazing outfits pretty quickly. Have you guys ever been somewhere where the people don't have to wear coats because it's hot all the time? Those people always seem a lot happier, as they never have to search through all of their coat pockets to find their chapstick, or never have tried to match formal-wear with a jacket (not an easy task).
It is fun to find money in the pockets of an old coat, but I still think it'd be way more fun to find money in the pocket of some cutoffs instead.

I've also grown more and more confused by Halloween. I'm not the not the type of gal who spends all of her time talking about equality and double standards, but the ladies clearly get screwed-over on this holiday. The fellas are allowed to wear whatever they want, no matter how gross or retarded the costume is, and everyone will applaud them for doing it. Girls are allowed to wear whatever they want, so long as they look outrageously hot while doing it, or people will whisper about how much "courage that must've taken to walk out of the house looking like that".

You know what is kind-of okay about Autumn? Shaking a tree on somebody so that they get leaves down their shirt and in their hair. That joke will never, ever get old. Also, there's a ton of good food floating around (except for candy corn. Sick.), and the new TV season starts, which means that there are several new ways to lower my IQ on a daily basis (awesome).
I can't change how the seasons progress, I accept that. All I'm saying is, if we could get the entire country to jump up and down at the same time, we may be able to shift the earth's axis just enough to never have to deal with this shit again, and then we can find money in our cutoffs pockets all year round! Think about it and get back to me, okay?

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

The VMAs- Some Afterthoughts (It's Britney, Bitch)

The VMAs are the best award show, because things get really out of hand really quickly. None of the other awards shows have near the amount of general debauchery and mayhem. I think one time someone got sent home from the Emmys for sneaking a beer from their dad's garage fridge and drinking it in the bathroom, but that's about as hardcore as the other awards shows get. The VMAs are just full of fights and random hook-ups, which is what makes it so exciting to write about. Here's how the show broke down:

-Let's get any and all Britney discussion out of the way right now. Look, after years of being the joke of the entire universe, I don't know why anyone would think that ol' Leatherface Spears could pull the most amazing performance out of thin air, single-handedly saving her career. The bitch is so far off of her rocker by now that it doesn't even matter anyway, right?

-In a time where shoulder-pads are coming back into style for the ladies (read that somewhere the other day), the freshest dudes are taking style cues from Kim Mitchell, and even my own closet looks like it's 'just joking', I'd like to think that most style rules really don't apply anymore. As a matter of fact, lately I've been saying that, in terms of recent fashion trends, it's not about what clothes people wearing, but who is wearing them. However, I retract that statement entirely when it comes to Lil' Mama's atrocity of an outfit. In 1993, kids were graduating from acid to MDMA, and everyone was walking around wearing plastic soothers for like a week. The trend died out quickly, mainly due to the fact that pacifiers past the age of two make you look like a super-tard. This outfit should have stayed buried in the ground, right beside those gross little trolls with the puffy hair.

-Why the hell does Timba have to try and steal Timbo's thunder all of the time? I understand that getting up on stage with Justin will probably pay off, ass-wise, later in the evening, but there was really no need for Timbaland to pretend he did anything more than recycle a few beats, flip a few switches, and say "Timbaland" and "Yeah" a few times on the album.

-Audrina, LC, and Whitney (aka-The Good Team) got to present the award for Male Artist of The Year. Unfortunately, Heidi and Spencer were unable to present, as the VMAs don't have a category called "Douche of The Year".

-Kanye? Still awesome. Silverman? Would probably switch teams for.

-I didn't think it was possible, but looking at Cee-Lo makes me feel kind-of thin.

-It's tough being a washed-up rock guy. So, if you run into another washed-up rock guy during an Alicia Keys performance, you should probably just shake hands or hug, as opposed to bitch-slapping them.... Have some fucking empathy, man.

363 days till the next VMAs... Mark your calendar!

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Don't let it fade away.

Since returning from vacation, I've had one clear goal in mind: don't let myself get stressed out again.
I had just spent a week drinking and smoking and fucking around like a total jackass, without having to even pretend to be serious even once, and it did me a world of good. My shoulders didn't hurt, my mind was clear, and things just seemed a hell of a lot brighter.
Then, I returned to the office on Tuesday morning, and right away, I was falling back into old habits. I had also decided to try and quit my morning cup of coffee (a feat that has been even more difficult than quitting my pack-a-day habit when I returned from France), which made things even tougher.

I came home Tuesday night and had a serious talk with myself, which is something I rarely do. It's not exactly easy to pinpoint why I get so stressed out, but it's safe to say that I really don't worry much about the shit that normal people worry themselves about.
It'd be totally normal for me to worry about the fact that I don 't have a ton of money, or that someone would have to have ass-backwards standards in order to find me attractive, or that my job is so intense, or that most of my friends are embarrassed to be seen in public with me, or that I'm really not getting any younger. However, strangely enough, those things don't keep me awake at night.
The truth is, I do think too much, but the thoughts usually lie within these categories:

-If you are wearing something without belt loops, then what do you do with the loose end of the belt when it's all done up?
-Kelly Clarkson should be so fucking grateful that Ghostface mentioned her in that one jam.
-Scrappy Doo was a total dick (seriously, worst cartoon sidekick ever).
-Outfits: am I matching too much or not enough?
-Has Dilla ever produced something that I wasn't fond of?
-If I ever got up the balls to cut my own hair, it would probably look okay.

Maybe it's better that I don't figure out any of the sources of my stress, because I'm starting to think that most of it was imaginary anyway.
From here on out, I'm going to deprive myself of self-deprivation (which means as much coffee as I want), and that vacation feeling should last forever (or at least until winter).
Wish me luck!

~sarah p.