Is there anything he can't do?

When your name is Christopher Walken, you can do whatever the hell you want, and people are still going to love you. If you want to join in on the shittiest Jack Black comedy out there (playing some sort of schizophrenic uncle or something), that's 100% within your rights, and nobody's going to fault you for it. Let's say you want to write paragraphs in kitty books, or show up on an already-dead late-night sketch show whenever the hell you want.... Nobody will get mad at you, because you're Walken. If you feel like uploading videos of you roasting a chicken (even if you shove a million pounds of salt into the chicken, and fondle the gizzards semi-inappropriately), it's no big thing, because everybody will just like you more anyway. I'm pretty sure Eddie Murphy can't do any of that.

~sarah p.

Roll the dice, don't think twice.

What are you guys doing this Friday? Probably something fun, right?
Not me, friends. It's time to roll up my sleeves and do my one good deed for the year. That's right... I'm working an evening at the charity casino for my office.

Perhaps 'working' is not the right word, 'babysitting' would probably be more appropriate. I'll be supervising a group of volunteers, most of which should probably not be trusted with wooden nickels, let alone thousands and thousands of dollars. I will be checking pockets at the end of the night.

There is nothing that depresses me more than casinos. They're full of people that took the whole 'gotta spend money to make money' concept, and ran down the block and out the door with it. Casino dwellers are pale and wear a lot of elastic-waist pants. They reek of stale coffee and desperation, and most gave up on themselves in the early 80's. There's something about them that makes me feel a little ill, and I'm really unsure of how I'm going to handle a ten-hour shift of supervising a group of kleptomaniacs and nymphomaniacs, with a bunch of gambling addicts surrounding me.

I have a tough time understanding gambling addictions. How can someone become addicted to losing money? I suppose the combination of lack of sunlight, the constant inhalation of brown, smoky air that flows from the filthy green carpets to the greasy mirrored ceilings, and the lack of nutrition from an all-buffet diet could wear just about anyone down into a slot-monkey. Actually, I still don't get it.

Wish me luck!

~sarah p.

Watch out for the fun police.

No matter how horrible I feel about my job some days, from here on out, I'm going to remind myself that I don't have to work weekends unless I choose to, I don't have to wear dorky fake-cop uniforms, and I don't have to spend hot summer afternoons standing on the banks of a beach, writing out $500 tickets and wrecking everyone's fun.

What ever happened to swimming at your own risk? If I'm worried about the threat of drowning or E-Coli, I'll be sure to keep myself away from the water. Until that day, Im'ma keep on keeping on.

~sarah p.

p.s. Crystal and I actually avoided all tickets by being very clever, plus we were probably both born with horseshoes up our asses. Probably.

Do it for yourself!

Hi guys. A quick note; please leave your shirts on when you're downtown.
Look, I know it's hot, and I'm sorry you're stuck in your suit all day, but the truth is, it's tough to look good and be comfortable at the same time (and suits? They sure do look good, if worn correctly).

I spend a part of every single weekday downtown. I see a lot of men in suits, and most of those men are fucking it up royally. Here are some of the major suit-mistakes I see on a daily basis:

Cologne:

Some guys seem to think that the moment they slap on cologne in the morning, they are more charming, classy, and attractive. Truth is, if I wanted guys to smell like the second floor of Sears, I'd hang out at the mall a whole lot more.

Poor Shoe-Choices:

Steel-toed Lugs. Are you trying to give some more street-cred to your work clothes? Honestly, there are very few ways to add street-cred to office attire, and none of them are very easy. For example, if you interchanged that tribal arm-band tattoo peeking out from beneath your checkered short-sleeve button-down for a prison tattoo (or at the very least, something not inked on you by a guy with rich and very supportive parents), then you've really got it made.

Now, you guys know how I feel about sandals in general (only okay for backyard, beach, and maybe if you're amazingly hungover), but sandals with a suit is probably one of the worst offenses in fashion. Look, when the public can see your toes peeking out from underneath your dress-pants, it doesn't look 'summer-classy-casual' or 'trendy-European', it looks like 'lazy-ass with foot disease'.

If you want to make your office-wear all summery and fresh, just take off your tie, rumple up your suit a bit, find a nice plain v-neck, and dig out your old boating loafers and wear them without socks... Thank me later, when you're probably smothered in so much ass that it's hard to breathe.

Alternate suit-jackets:

I know it's not always feasible to wear a suit-jacket. This doesn't mean that it's okay to switch up and wear a track-jacket instead. We live in the richest province in Canada, and this means that you're not allowed to dress like you just got out of your very first interview at a rug factory in Regina. Although a suit-jacket is the most charming option, suitable alternatives include a Cosby sweater, a sweater-vest (pretty adorable, depending), or even no jacket at all!

....It's really not rocket-science.

Let's face the facts: girls like to see guys in suits because it makes them look like a responsible fella that probably won't get too mad when asked to dress up for his own wedding. Really, though, don't just do it for the ladies... Do it for yourself! You're not getting any younger, and the only way you're probably going to trick your boss into thinking you're a model employee is if you dress the part (and pretend to look busy all day by making a mad-face at your computer screen).

If you're lucky enough to work in a job where they let you dress however you want (I get that perk in my office, because there's a decent chance that I could get Hep-C blood splashed on me at any moment), then these rules don't even apply. However, for such a smart and prosperous city, we look like a bunch of bumpkins and skids that just cleaned their act up and got a job downtown (don't even get me started on the ladies). This city's corporate world really needs to get themselves together. Stat.

~sarah p.

Vacation... For real this time!

It's been a full two years since I've been out of this city. I realize that the concept of not taking any vacations for two whole years, even shitty ones, is totally foreign to the majority of people, but please consider the following:
1. I've been dirt-poor since the day I left my family's cozy house at the age of seventeen.
2. Nobody loves me enough, nor am I attractive or likable enough, to be handed a free or inexpensive trip.
3. I'm outstandingly bad with money, and spend most of my extra coins on clothes and shoes and booze.

That being said, I booked a flight this evening... Man, am I ever glad I tricked Mastercard into trusting me.
Yes, it's true. In just over a month, I'll be heading out to America's heartland, Nebraska, where I'll be taking a road-trip over to Oklahoma City to participate in the wedding of the century. Let me just take this moment to thank Jenny Junk for actually being okay with having to spend eight hours in the car with me, two ways. I could be wrong, but I'd assume, from my lack of road-trip invites over the years, that most people would rather be anally raped with a brick than sit in car with me for any length of time. However, Jenny's willing to take on the responsibility. Lucky girl.
The truth is, I'm a perfect road-trip guest. I don't drive, but I buy all of the snacks, and I don't cheap out. Plus, I have great taste in music, don't talk too much (debatable, I guess, but I try to know my limits) and I usually smell quite good.... Usually. I'm glad to be back in road-trip action, particularly US road-trip action. Americans love me!

See you in a month, America. Start chilling the PBRs!

~sarah p.

What a way to make a living.

I'm starting to realize that the whole notion of "hard work pays off" is bullshit. I come home every night and have to take a rest before I change my clothes because I've worked like a fucking maniac all day, and where's my payoff? I'm too exhausted to have fun on weekdays anymore, and I'm not really making a ton more cash than my last job, where I basically fucked around all day. Nope, I'm pretty much getting the royal screw-job right now.

I think I've finally become one of the millions of Canadians that honestly hates their job. Fair enough, I don't hate it every single day (probably only three or four days out of the week are hate-worthy), my job is semi-respectable, there's Chinese BBQ across the street, and I guess that a long, long way down the road, I may get some sort of karma-payback for working for a non-profit organization. However, I'm not always the most patient person, and I want some kickbacks now.

That being said, it could probably be worse... There are some jobs out there that are awful every single day. I'm not talking about the garbage men or cow inseminators that you see on World's Worst Jobs on The Discovery Channel. Too obvious...
Of course messy, gross jobs are going to be horrible. Duh. No, I'm talking about the average, everyday jobs that regular people have that are probably just as bad as examining animal vomit all day, or working at an ammonia factory.

For example:

-An Insurance Agent.
What is the difference between a telemarketer and an insurance agent? About $10,000/yr.
Calling people up and trying to trick them into hurricane insurance is, I'd assume, a pretty wretched way to spend your day.

-An Ice Cream Man.
Uh. Can you imagine getting awkwardly poked and prodded with tiny sweaty, sticky, dirty hands all day while listening to the same shitty music over and over? (I was going to insert some tasteless euphemism here about how it would probably feel quite similar to sleeping with me, but I didn't want to make anyone throw up).
Yes gentleman, I am single.

-A Mover.
How much did your last moving day suck? Imagine if that was your life every single day, except that you're not allowed beer.... Trying to fit furniture through doorways and lifting shit all day? Noooo thanks.

-A Map-Maker.
Remember when you were a kid, and your teacher made you color in maps in different shades? It took forever, and it was actually kind-of intensive labor. Then the Russia would turn into the USSR, then to the Soviet Union, and then back to Russia, and you'd have to re-color those same maps over and over again. The world is always a'changin, which means that all of your hard-ass work gets ruined every time a land mass falls into the sea, or every time a world leader decides to go postal, which is probably like a billion times a year (those statistics may be slightly off)....Terrible.

-A Guidance Counselor.
All day long, you'd be stuck seeing hopeless teen after hopeless teen, and trying to keep your cool while giving them fake advice about college and the "real world". You'd have to keep biting your tongue the whole time, because realistically most of them should probably start working at the 7-11 right away so they can get that sweet hiring bonus a year from now, right about the time that their first bastard child is due.


Anyway, point is, I guess it could be worse, and if anything, I have a whole new appreciation for my weekends.

Keep cool guys, or you'll roast like a suckling pig this weekend. Might I suggest re-connecting with your old pal Popsicle Pete?

~sarah p.

Summer of '08.

Five years ago, if someone would have told me that my summer of 2006 would be all about a bunch of broke-ass Brazilian kids scream-rapping in Portuguese over exhausted 80's instrumentals, I would have told that person to go fuck themselves. Nobody could have predicted that dippy electro music would become so obscenely trendy, or that you could be the greatest DJ of 2007 if you held onto your copy of Dancemix '93, but here we are (and isn't it great?)....
Say what you want, but you and I both know that this Mongolian shit is on a whole 'nother level.
Diplo will get in on the mix, Vice will do a little bit of not-so-subtle advertising, and soon enough you'll be cramming yourself into roasting clubs on a weeknight to catch a glimpse of what's what on the mongo-scene.

Thank me next summer, when you're bumping this everywhere you go.
Anytime, guys... Anytime.

~sarah p.

Tuesdays are made for Shaq.

Tuesday nights are the biggest "what to do?" night in the city. Sometimes, on hot nights like these, it's best to just put the rotating fan out in the living room and see what kind of shit network TV is cranking out. There was a time a few years ago where I barely watched TV at all, and quite frankly, I was really missing out.

For example, have you seen the new show where Shaq hangs out with a bunch of fat kids? It's both hilarious and heartwarming, which seems to be the way that ABC rolls nowadays (Wifeswap? Extreme Makeover? You guys know what I'm talking about).
The best part was in the very first episode, where Shaquille O'Neal knocks on the fat kids' doors, and they all pretend to know who he is (really, the only time that kids these days say Shaq's name is when they make fun of the logo on the broke-ass kid's hand-me-down gym shorts). These kids didn't live through Shaq's rap career, see the richest kid in their school rocking Shaq Attacks in three different colorways, and they certainly haven't sat through Kazaam a handful of times.
p.s. I read somewhere in one of those useless movie-fact lists that the kid from Kazaam is distantly related to Francis Ford Coppola..... There must be a special kind of disappointment attached to the fact that, while you're busting your ass filming The fucking Godfather, one of your distant relatives is out there making a flick about an ex-NBA star dressed as a genie that lives in a magical boombox.


Anyway, point is: watching a bunch of fat kids sweat like it's a hot day in hell, while Shaq goes through a wide range of over-acted emotions, is a pretty entertaining way to waste a Tuesday night. If anything, Shaq has taught us that, so long as you keep pulling nutty publicity stunts (remember Officer Shaq?) and churning out sappy reality TV, you can hold onto that last glimmer of fame forever and ever and ever.

~sarah p.

More soda for your money.

I really don't know why anyone would ever buy Powerade in bottle-form. I'm not a big Powerade drinker to begin with, but in the middle of Crystal's intense moving-day, when I may or may not have gone out drinking the night before (semi-responsibly, meaning that I wasn't out until the sun came up for once, but still enough to make me feel weak and squinty), it was time to face the facts: my electrolytes needed replenishing, son.

Back to the point. If you go over to the soda machine, you will see that you can drink several litres of Powerade for the same price as a single bottle. Sure, carrying around a Big Gulp makes you look like you're about to grow your hair into a fe-mullet, pop out a few kids and name them all after cities in Texas, but in terms of value, you really can't complain. As an absolute bonus, if you save your cup and bring it back to re-fill, they give you a discount! If you think I'm above re-filling a Big Gulp cup over and over again until the logo flakes off of the side, then you obviously don't know me very well.

7-11 employees are almost always stoned as hell, just starting the job, or perhaps mildly handicapped, so they're usually not too concerned with what you're doing within the store, so long as you pay for something before you leave. Here are a few other ways to save some money at the Sever:

1. Hide things! If you're getting some nachos, be sure to put a Caramilk underneath the chips before you load on the cheese. Put a bag of penny candies in the bottom of the paper slurpee cups (the clear cups don't work), or tuck a copy of XXL inside of a Bargain Finder so you can see what's been going on in Suge Knight's life for cheap, cheap, cheap.

2. Did you know that the chili and cheese sauce are free? I used to think that it would really be worth my value to make sure to load every sandwich, hot dog, or taquito up with chili before eating it, but then I realized that the amount of pot that it would take to make 7-11 chili taste good would break the budget regardless, so I guess that wasn't such a good idea afterall.

3. Eat as you go. If you put 50 cents worth of candy into a bag, but eat $3.00 worth while you're filling up the bag, you'll be a money-saving machine!

4. Beef jerky slides into pockets very, very easily. Nuff said.

5. Slurpees cost more than soda, so if you fill up a Big Gulp with slurpee, and then top it up with some soda, you've just saved yourself a well-deserved quarter.


My month without booze has not been going very well so far. Yesterday, the first of the month, I drank an entire bottle of wine, and today, the second, I drank an entire bottle of sake. That being said, I didn't pay for either, which means that I haven't technically broken any rules. Things could get interesting around Stampede time, when you'll probably find me outside of Stampede Liquor, offering 'favors' for cans of beer. See you there!
I hope your long weekends were perfect.

~sarah p.