Friday, January 20, 2012


For my 30th birthday, I ate a candy apple (the red kind) fresh from Banff, and twelve assorted oysters. Like the great majority of Caucasians nowadays, I typically rigorously photograph all of my meal choices, but there was no chance with the platter of oysters- they were inhaled the moment they were placed in front of me. I took a fair amount of Ativan. I received the most wonderful spotted calf hair ankle boots. I ate fried chicken, and had my best friend over for a pity party.
My worst nightmare came true, and it was much less traumatizing than I could've ever imagined.
I am thirty years old. Try and stop me, world.

~sarah p.

p.s. Dylan says that the only type of music I enjoy is wuss music, and so be it. I spent most of my birthday iTunes cash on Blood Orange tracks. Not only is Devonté Hynes basically the most attractive human being ever (right along side DeVante Swing of Jodeci fame, circa 1994... What is it about that name?), but I have been very active in working on my own relaxation as of late, and songs that sound like Prince taking a surf holiday can really aid in the process. That, and baths. Lots and lots of baths.

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