Trying to keep cool, trying to calm down....

...but I totally can't because I think I just read that Kool Keith is coming to Calgary (as Dr. Octagon, I think, but it doesn't matter). I'm trying to play like this is no big deal, but anyone that knows me knows very well about my Kool Keith fetish. Please let this be true. I'm going to go lay down now, I'm feeling a little nauseous from the excitement.

~sarah p.

p.s. If you want to hear a pretty sweet story, then ask me how I beat the entire Calgary Transit system next time you see me. I can't write it, because it's mostly hand-actions and facial expressions.

Prison Wine Tasting.

You wouldn't know it by looking at me, or speaking to me, or knowing me in general, but I actually have some decent wine knowledge. After spending almost 2 years among the city's finest bottles, I know my grape varieties, my vintages, and I certainly know how to properly taste a glass.
I was going to just taste the prison wine by myself, but I'm pretty sure that's called 'being an alcoholic'. So, I asked a few pals to help. We all filed out to the wood-paneled garage with a strainer, some coffee filters (yeah, I know they don't have strainers and coffee filters in prison, but let's assume I gave someone in the kitchen a very enthusiastic handjob), and bowls. Man, it was an adventure and a half.

I had been keeping the garbage bag in a box for two whole weeks.

Look familiar?

This was after the first straining. There was still a bunch of schmultz and crap floating around.

Crystal brought me coffee filters for straining! At this point, I was thinking "This may not be so bad afterall..."

The word 'nose' is used to refer to the wine's distinct aroma. People often use descriptive words that include flowers, fruits, and woods. The prison wine's nose is 'dude that sleeps infront of the liquor store'.

We filtered the wine pretty well to get it ready for consumption. We had no idea what we were about to experience.

Mmmm... Made me feel a bit prison-y, like I wanted to stab a bitch.

Sweet baby jesus in a manger, that's horrible. A wine's 'note' is the distinct flavors that one can taste while sampling. This wine's notes were mould, juice, yeast, and ass. Time to pass it off to the jury:

Don't worry, Crystal, it's not so bad....

Sike. It's actually awful.

Derek was nice enough to admit that you actually could taste the booze. As bad as it was, if you were in prison, and had to deal with daily cafeteria lines and communal showers, it certainly could get you drunk.

Amy got brave and tasted some too.

She tried to be nice about it, she really did.


Okay, so my first attempt of prison wine was not an entire success. Perhaps I'll have another chance to try and make my own alcohol, when the IRS catches up with me. You think Martha Stewart stayed sober in prison? Nope. It's all about resources, friends.... Allll about resources.

~sarah p.

p.s. No idea what I'm talking about? Read the first two chapters:

An idea.
This is where dreams begin.

Coming tomorrow...

The best wine tasting of all time. Be prepped.

~sarah p.

p.s. You are very special to me. Yes, you (and even you!).

Still sick.

I'm still not well. Being sick is getting old fast, but considering that I have to be in top-form next weekend, I'm not pushing my limits at all this weekend. I've probably saved myself a good $150 by hibernating, which is pretty sweet.
Here are a few other perks to being sick:
*Who needs people to come over and entertain you when you can take a bunch of Nyquil and entertain yourself?
*Two words: Maury Povich.
*The greatest part about having an 'adult job' is sick pay. Getting paid to sit around in your own filth at home? Yes, please.
*For a short period, my voice doesn't sound like an eight-year-old with ADHD.
*The dreams I have had while sleeping 16 hours a day can only be likened to a Hunter S. Thompson novel. Mutherfucking crazy, you guys.
*Popsicles. 'Nuff said.

I should be feeling better soon, and I can crack open my prison wine, which smells like it is probably ready (maybe? I really don't know). More on this later.

~sarah p.

Guessing game... Part 2.

I did get to go home afterall. I took a crapload of Nyquil. So far, so good.
There are some guys outside putting in a new sidewalk infront of my house. If you've ever seen my house, there is like a foot and a half between the sidewalk and the window, so I have a pretty good view of the action. For a couple of days now, these guys show up at 6:30 in the morning, and start working. One of them (the head guy, I think) sounds like someone doing a really bad and exaggerated impression of John Travolta. He likes to talk about cigarettes. There was just this guy that walked past and started writing shit in the wet cement infront of the workers, and now the workers are yelling at him. They called him a 'jackass' and a 'stupid asshole'. Stupid guy, wait until like 30 seconds after they leave, then write whatever you want. That's my plan (after I pass out again for a few hours).

~sarah p.

p.s. Dylan made a fat-guy mixtape today on our other blog. If someone is amazing enough to actually download all of the tracks and make it for me, then consider this a marriage proposal. I'll add my side tomorrow.

Uh-oh (a guessing game).

I was saving the title of this post for a few years down the road, just prior to my first appearance on Maury in a show entitled "Are You My Baby Daddy? (Because I Honestly Have No Clue)". However, I'm tired of waiting. As a matter of fact, I'm really, really tired in general. So tired.

Last night we went to Dub at the Drum. As always, it was a fun time. I didn't drink much, but danced like it was going out of style (please don't let dancing ever go out of style). I got home at 2-ish, and was in bed by 3. No big deal. Then, I get up at 8am, and felt like someone hit me in the head with a frying pan. I couldn't breathe very well, and when I coughed, it brought tears to my eyes because it hurt so much. On the walk to work, I began to cough up small cities, and kept thinking that I just may pass out on the pavement. Now, I'm not a doctor, but I think that's an indication that something may not be right. For once, I am sick, and it has nothing to do with how much booze I've consumed. Maybe it was the fact that I spent all weekend hugging evereyone I've ever met like 80 times (and kissing some of them like 50 times) or maybe it's the fact that my job entitles that I hang out with old people and children all day. I don't know, but it's mildly awful.
What do I have? It's a bit of a guessing game, but from the looks of all of the fluid-action going on in my body (and not the good kind, sickos), it's probably going to need antibiotics and a hell of a lot of rest.

Man, if I've ever needed a sick day in my life (not going to happen).....

~sarah p.

The hugging machine hits Broken (and pushes social boundaries).

After visiting Jeff and Christine's housewarming, we headed off to Broken to listen to Marco spin.
I had only had one thing in mind the whole night (besides the amazing music), and that was hugging up a storm.

Breanne? Yep, going to hug her.
So good to see Ryan (who I think was having the most amazing night ever).

...and Allison? You know I'm going to hug her.

This is our pal Jeff:He came down to see us at Broken, and ended up hanging out afterward with Allison and I at my house. After a few Busch, we proceeded to have discussions that were pushing some serious boundaries. I think were trying to find the final taboo. I don't know. Even Sarah Silverman is somewhere shaking her head in disgust and saying "Not cool, guys. Not. Cool."

~sarah p.

Party at Trev's.... No big deal.

Yeah, right. Total big deal.
Bj and Jan (I forgot how much I like Jan.... Glad I know now).

We all learned a little more about Wade.

Amy and Jan, pretty fantastic.

Crystal loves Wade! (who are we kidding? We all love Wade.)

What did I tell you? Nascar and Busch. It wasn't very good, but I think it was because I still wearing my shirt.

Trevor was an amazing host.

Melissa and the infamous gnome.

In case you didn't know, I love Melissa. A lot.

One house party down, one to go. Sunday, I will be lifeless.

~sarah p.

Oh. man.

Cadence Weapon show was sick. The crowd wasn't great, but the on-stage entertainment was better than I'd seen in quite some time. Pretty sure I'm a big fan. Really, that's all that needs to be said.... So glad I went.

~sarah p.

Stop bitin' my shit.

Cadence Weapon is at Broken tonight. I couldn't be more stoked (even though he's here like every third week).

~sarah p.

You guys thought I was lying....

...But I really did start a batch of prison wine. For sake of authenticity, I should have used a toilet, but due to the fact that I live in a one-toilet household, some garbage bags in a box would have to do.

Here's all of my ingredients:
Once again, for sake of authenticity, I should have used mouldy bread in place of the yeast. However, have you ever tried to intentionally mould some bread in this city? I've done it, unintentionally, like a billion times, but if I try to do it, then the bread just dries into some sort of psuedo-toast. I didn't have a ton of grapes, so I threw in some plums and raisins, as well as some raspberries, an orange, and a grapefruit that had been in the fridge for over a month.


In this part of the process, you basically have to go buckwild on the fruit, and unleash some of your prison anger. I tried to think about court, lawyers, prison guards, and big scary guys that attack you in the shower. You know, stuff that would make a prisoner angry.


Some sugar, some yeast, some juice, and some water, and you're pretty much good to go (you'll have to excuse the kitty-scrubs, I was so excited to come home and make booze that I didn't even take off my work clothes).


Right now, it looks like something I would see the morning after being at the bar, but I swear it smells pretty fantastic. Knot the bag, and poke a few holes in the top (you're supposed to use a straw, but I didn't have one, so that'll have to wait until I get some tacos tomorrow).

...and that's it, guys. A week in the garage, and we'll see what happens. I'll keep you posted.

~sarah p.

Prison Wine.

Booze is too damn expensive these days. Unless I want to run the border down to Montana every single time I want a six-pack, I'm going to have to continue to pay high prices to make me forget my troubles... Or do I?

I've got a solution, guys, and it's a good one. I'm taking a page from my brothers behind steel, and making some booze on my own.

Here's a few pointers to get me started:

Steve made a white and a red. This is maybe too advanced for me.

Here's a prison wine flow-chart. This is more my speed.


I'm not joking, I am actually do this. I'm starting up this week in my garage, as soon as I get some buckets. Will update you guys on the progress.

In the meanwhile, I have a 24-pack of Busch in my house that I need to start drinking. I asked my mom to pick me up PBRs while she was in the states, but she brought me back Busch instead (I hear Busch tastes especially good if you wear a dirty Nascar cap and take off your shirt... Worth a try). Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

~sarah p.

The novelty candy section.

On Saturday, I wasn't feeling too well. Allison and I went to the Drum for like 45 minutes.

This was the car parked in front of us. Hammertime, anyone? (nobody has ever made that joke at the expense of this car ever, I'm sure)

After the previous evening's adventures, we didn't do so well at the bar, so off we went to get nice and mellow and hit the sever. At 7-11, I got a slurpee, and hit the novelty candy section. In case you didn't know, it's my favorite section in the whole store.

Did you know that if you buy Hulk Candy 'sticks' (call it what you like, big candy corporation, we all know they're cigs), you get a free glow-in-the-dark tattoo? Did you know that if you put on the tattoo on a Saturday night, you will still be trying to scrub it off on Monday evening? Now you know.


Holy crap, have you guys seen this before? I bought it because the name is mildly suggestive.

This is what this mother looks like out of the package. There's these gum-poles wrapped in wax paper, which I figured out by the second one, you're supposed to take off. Then, there's this citric-acid paste that you dip the gum into. The third compartment has these little multi-colored pellets that taste like candy and farts. I ended up throwing these gems out.

It's good to have one of these kinds of nights every once in a while.

~sarah p.

I like the mexican beer with the xx's on the bottle. You know, that one.

We went to Trevor's new place before going out on Friday. In case you didn't know, you can't have a bad time at Trevor's. It's impossible.

You know, it's important to think about your less-fortunate brothers while you are having a good time. That's why I had to give this little fella, trapped in the fireplace, a little respect.

Where did my straw go? Not in my drink, I'll tell you that much.

Trevor always says he doesn't bite, but yes. he. does.

Crystal's bum!

What's that? We're going to have a ass-wasted evening? Yes, we are.

...and yes, we did. Haven't been that sick in a while, guys.

~sarah p.

Stick-elf.

I found this mushroom by my garage. I took a picture of it, but it didn't look very good, so I drew a stick-elf under it.


~sarah p.

p.s.
In honor of Game Theory coming out last week (not that I need to plug it, because everyone knows it's pretty amazing), head over to Palm's Out to download a couple of cuts off of J. Period's Roots Mixtape. Hotttt.

Autumn's here, and the fun police have arrived.

The fun's over, guys.
Here's a bunch of photos (all somewhere between June and August) that I forgot to post:




























...Maybe I would have captioned the photos if it was still August, but it's not, and I'm in hibernation mode.
Just joking, I actually don't hate fall at all (and you should see my jacket collection).

Oy. Vey. I need to detox.


~sarah p.