Nooooooo.....

You may as well just stab me in the heart right now. They already cancelled my new favorite show, and you can be damn sure that they're not going to put another show on the air where Latoya Jackson pats down car thieves, and then has to go to therapy because she's scared of a cat. Do you think I'm ever going to switch on my TV again and see Eric Estrada fart on a real cop, or see lil' Wee Man talking to a shoplifting teenage crackhead about turning around her life, while the teenage crackhead screams "Nooooo way. You can't arrest me, you're not a real cop", or Jack Osbourne put on a serious-face while sticking his hands down a guy's pants to check for weapons? I wish.

So long, Armed & Famous... Wednesdays will never be the same (just joking, Real World Denver is still on, so everything's fine).

~sarah p.

Fine. That's fine.

Thanks to the assfaces that stole my newest camera, I'm sure you guys will have a ton of fun taking pictures of each other's weiners and shit. It kinda put a damper on the evening for a bit, but let's be honest:

We still went out and danced with Trevor....

....We still got some adorable photos (thanks to Breanne)....

....My sister still showed up....

....We still danced a hole into the dancefloor....

...And I was still there to represent Wu.

I'm sad that we lost some of the amazing photos on the camera, but there will be many more evenings with many more photos.
In the scheme of things, I bought myself a pretty nice new camera, and I learned a valuable after-school special lesson.... If dudes look kinda shifty, they probably are. From here on out, I'll be judging books by their covers like nobody's business, son.

~sarah p.

Too much to ask.

All I want in this world are glow-in-the-dark kicks... Is that really too much to ask?
Apparently, it is. These Blazers aren't even released yet, but Nike's not even bothering to make them in tiny Sarah sizes, and the glow-Dunks that they made a while ago? Not a chance.
Fuckers.

~sarah p.

Are you there, Screech? It's me, Sarah.

Today I ditched work for a couple of hours to go to the bank, and I thought I saw Screech downtown. Then, I saw this picture of him taken at Sundance, which is going on right now. It must have been one of those celebrity look-alikes that you can pay to go to your party (except with the Screech look-alike, he pays to come to your party).
Looking at Screech now kind-of makes me want to throw up, just like that stuff they give you at the hospital to induce vomiting. What's that stuff called again? Oh yeah.... Aspic.
After the whole "accidental" sex tape incident, I can barely even watch Saved By The Bell anymore, which is a damn shame for an insomniac like myself, because I always really enjoyed the sexual tension between Zach Morris and Slater.
....Guess it's back to watching poorly-prepared comedians fumble through a 5-minute set on Comedy at Club 54 at 5AM.

~sarah p.

Dance Dance Sarahlution.

It was Jeff's birthday on Saturday, so you know what that means.... Dance. Party.

First, it was a quick trip over to the Rhino to say hello to the cutest DJ couple in the world, then over to Broken to see Marco and dance like it was my last night on earth.

Happy Birthday, Jeff!

Guess who was there? Bree and Jess.

You know when you go somewhere, and you're having a great time, so you think to yourself "I don't think anyone here is having a better time than I am", and then you look up and see this guy?

Once again, Lucky Lager sponsored our evening, along with side-perks from Jagerbombs.
p.s. Remember how I said that Jager is the devil, and I'm never going to drink it again? Well, I think I'm okay with it now.

This was near the end of the night, after some gross dude in a for-real leather toque (probably from Boutique of Leathers) tried to get me to go outside with him to make out in the alley, and then when I was like "ummm... no", he got really mad. It was mega-awkward, but it made me appreciate the good parts of the night even more (for example... Dylan showing up? Didn't see that one coming).

This was after we almost got murdered. There's a big difference between smiling because you feel like it, and smiling because you're happy to still be alive. The photo's a little blurry, but hey.... So was most of the night.

~sarah p.

One of my schemes worked (finally).

I haven't had a credit card in forever. The last time I had one, I was super young, it was under my mom's name, and didn't even count toward my credit rating. Long story short, I've barely even attempted to get a card since. I didn't even think it was worth trying.

There have been these cockfaces in the mall for two months now, and every single day they tried to lure me into applying for a card by offering me free gifts. They offered me picture frames, mini-fans, their first-born children.... Really though, I wasn't taking the bait. Then, this one day I was passing by, and they had some lil' radios that kind-of caught my eye. They also had calculators. With the wit of a used car salesman, I was able to scheme both prizes out of the girl at the counter, and all I had to do was give her a bunch of super personal numbers in return. Then, I forgot about it completely ('cept for the radio part, which is still rocking my world to this day).

About a month later, I got a call at work. It was Mastercard, and they were asking for my boss. Looking back I'm not sure why I did it, but I pretended I was her, and verified my own employment and grossly exaggerated earnings. In some circles, that could be considered "untruthful" or "fraudulent", but at this point, I was still positive that they were not going to give me a card.

Long story short, I get home today, and there's two white envelopes in the mailbox, both for me. I felt like I was dreaming when I opened up the fat envelope and saw the shiny corner of a card staring me in the face.

I bit that shit like it was a piece of solid gold, just to make sure it was real:...Story checks out, so I'm off to buy me some happiness.

Thanks, Mastercard. You're probably going to regret this one.

~sarah p.

Quit smirking, Steve Saunders.

You know, there are times when I miss Grade 5 soooo much. Hypercolor, BBD on the AM 106 Top Ten at Ten, and of course, David Silver doing the Roger Rabbit.

~sarah p.

Fuck all ya'll.... They're still delicious.

Tacos are still my favorite food and all, but hot dogs are really moving up in the world (and quite frankly, I don't give a fuck about all of the lips and anuses, as it's been proven to me that lips and anuses can be rather tasty when covered in condiments and served on a bun).

~sarah p.

p.s. Did you know that there's a National Hot Dog and Sausage Council? That's a council I would like to be a part of.

OOoooooohhhh man.

So, we went out on Saturday for a little birthday get-together. We went to the Rhino, then went to say the quickest hello to Marco over at Broken. Here's how it all went down:

As usual, Disoriental and Reece got the party started right away.

Try to get us in the same photo? Amazingly challenging, and amazingly awesome.

We really missed Jess and Chris, but Breanne came out, which was so great.

What the fuck? Even my sister came out, and she was drunker than I was.

Aww... Of course Trev was there.

Thanks for coming out, friends!

~sarah p.

p.s. Guess what? As of today, I am officially debt-free. I paid off the very last of my student loan, and now I can live the baller lifestyle I've always dreamed of.

p.p.s. I am now the world's strongest believer in thread-count. Nice sheets make alllll the difference.

The last 3.

Almost 25, guys. That's pretty disgusting if you ask me. Here's the last three goals:

3. Learn the art of napkin-folding (this one's for you, Crystal!).
I already learned how to make a sweet rose, so if I ever need to woo someone, I'm set. However, I think I can do better. You want your napkins folded? No prob.... I'm on it.

2. Find an amazing bar trick.
When I was 18, there was this creepy asian guy with long hair that used to go around to all of the bars and do magic tricks. People seemed mildly amused. Does anyone remember that guy? He was always at the Night Gallery. Then, this one time he cornered me in Eau Claire Market, and made some unwanted advances on me. Sick. I would like to have a half-entertaining bar trick, without the sexual harassment. That would be nice.

1. Work harder at keeping in touch.
Having Rob Phillips here for a visit really made me think...
I love you guys, I really do, but when's the last time you heard from me? Exactly. From here on out, I'm going to try a lot harder to write, and call, and e-mail all of my non-Calgarian friends. Promise.


Aaaaannnnddd.... We're through. No more self-realization blog entries for a while. They're boring.

~sarah p.

The Real Mr. Noodle: A Eulogy

Last week, Momofuko Ando, the inventor of instant ramen passed away at the ripe old age of 96. For some unknown reason, I was not invited to his funeral (probably something to do with the big scene I caused when I attended the funeral of the dude that invented Hot Pockets), but since Mr. Ando affected my life in so many ways, I prepared a eulogy anyway:
Hey fella,
Thanks for using that massive brain of yours to invent something that pretty much sustained me the entire time I was a student.
39 cents for a meal? Fucking ridiculous. Before ramen came along, I would have had to eat out of the garbage if I wanted a meal for 39 cents (because that's how much the hobos would have charged me for a garbage finder's fee).
To this day I'm shocked that I didn't get worms from eating so much cheap soup, yet I remain worm-free. I attribute this to all of the love that was put into inventing instant ramen.
With all of the greasy, sodium-based broth I ingested, I probably lost a good five years off of my life, but those years come off of the end (AKA-the crap years), so it doesn't even matter anyway.
Sure, years of forcing myself to eat instant dinners has actually made me kind-of hate the taste of ramen, but in the scheme of things, I probably am still alive today because you put a brick of dried noodles and a foil packet of msg together.

Rest in peace, you crazy bastard. Curry beef was the best flavor.

~sarah p.

p.s. Sweet and sour pork stamps? Looks like it's time for me to pack up and move to China if that's how things are going down around there.

January 14th Represent.

Jason Bateman, LL Cool J.....

Come on, guys. Let's say we get together and have the best birthday party ever (with panthers in gold chains, and teen wolves, and nobody will be wearing a shirt, but letterman jackets and old-school bucket hats are totally kosher).

~sarah p.

Fresh from the east coast....

So, I'm sitting here, still marveling in my new Raekwon shirt, and I learn that Rob Phillips is in town for the week, which means a sweet Awosting reunion (and maybe I'll even get to see Karen). Yessss....
What the fuck? Is it official? You guys, I think early birthday presents might be better than real birthday presents. We'll see.

~sarah p.

p.s. Two more goals:

5. Start working toward getting myself on Jeopardy.
Today I signed up for the entrance test. Wish me luck! Pretty soon Alex Trebek is going to be winking at me from his podium, to my podium, and I'm going to give him a look like "maybe if you let me win....", and then when I win and Alex is rubbing on me in the green room, I'll be able to say "I said MAYBE, Alex... Now back off and give me my cheque.".

4. Watch more TV.
Fuck. All of this time I've been wasting doing god-knows-what could have been spent watching TV. These past few weeks have really reminded me of how much I like being a lazy slob. From now on, less thinking, more bloopers shows.

A busy night.

So, I went over to Broken last night with these crazy kids:

I hadn't been in a while, and it was an awfully good time.

Jolene was there....

...and Jeff was there....

...and even Steph was there!

Throw all of us in the same room, and guess what happens? Yep, dancing.

In-between Jess single-handedly bringing sexy back,

and me pondering the meaning of life with Jolene,

I still managed to throw down a quick ad for Lucky Lager,

fix my hair,

and hang out with the coolest Japanese dude (you should have seen his shoes..... Freshhhhh).

A big thanks to Marco for entertaining us, even though he was sick.

~sarah p.

I need you.... Raekwon needs you... Please help.

I know I've pretty much posted this everywhere, but I need help badly.


Look at this shirt. I'll give you a second to breathe it in......
Okay. Pretty amazing, isn't it? It's a genuine Raekwon shirt from the Rock The Bells Tour. Pickle brought it back from Utah for my early birthday present, and it is probably, hands-down, the best gift I've ever received.
Here's the situation: the smallest size they had was still pretty huge. I am pretty tiny. I'm looking for the very best tailor in the world. I need the shoulders taken up, and the sleeves and waist taken in. Now, I know that any old tailor could probably handle my business, but since I plan to wear this shirt every day, all day, I want it to be done perfectly (plus, the shirt is so nice that most tailors would probably try to steal it).
Anyway, point is, if you know of any amazing tailors, e-mail me or call me or comment or something. I'm frigging lost here.

Thanks in advance,

~sarah p.

This is going too far.

I've really been thinking about my personal boundaries lately. Now that I'm almost 25, it's time to start thinking about things like: "How drunk am I going to allow myself to get?", or "How much money am I going to allow myself to spend on novelty candy in a month?".
In terms of fashion, last Friday I was given an answer to the question "Where is the exact point that the line ends on what I'm willing to wear?"

This velvet scrunchie was on the floor of the Drum. Every time I went in there, I would think about how awesome and 80's it would be if I started rocking scrunchies again. Then, I realized it was just the booze talking, and it hit me: this velvet scrunchie is my personal fashion boundary. If you see me wearing something like this in public, you have my full permission to kick me square in the face (don't worry, dudes, you don't have to aim very high).

~sarah p.

Crack is Whack.

Well, Whitney, you've really done it this time. Your house is gone, your relationship with international playboy superstar Bobby Brown is over, you're in court like every other day.... What do you have left? Well, not much after you sell all of your shit at one of the greatest garage sales ever.

Now, I've been to some pretty great garage sales in my day, but did they ever have cool outfits like this to buy? Oh, wait, yes they did. Nevermind.

Stay away from the rocks, kids.

~sarah p.

The most depressing cookie recipe ever.

Stumbled on this gem of a recipe the other day...
Religious zealots? Good little bakers? Now your kids can be both.

~sarah p.

New Year.

To ring in 2007, we headed over to the Rhino. At first, when we got there, it was pretty okay, but then Disoriental, Reece, and Wax Romeo started spinning over in the restaurant, and things got super good (and I got super trashed). Our dancing shoes were on (my real shoes, on the other hand, were only on for part of the night), and we haven't had that much room to bust moves in so, so long.
Guess who's back in the muthafuckin house?

Yep, Melissa.

A big thanks to our DJs.

See what I'm saying? Sooo much room to dance.

Erica's cool because she saw us naked once.

Haven't you heard? It's 2007, and subtlety is dead. I decided that last night.

Happy New Year, friends.

~sarah p.