This week in Korean BBQ news:

This happened!
Cute!

~sarah p.

p.s. The cutest show on TV right now (that is, until I get my pilot, 'The All Kitten and Puppy Revue', off the ground), is Chimp Mommy on CMT. It is about a crazy lady that is raising a chimp named Eli and trying to find online love... At the same time! Now that's talent.

Like Babies and Pacifiers.

My favorite thought of the week (as per Nick Cannon):

Mariah Carey, laid out on the operating table, having two small children surgically removed from her abdomen, while Nick Cannon sits patiently with his finger on the play button, ready to cue up a 'Live at Madison Square Garden' version of 'Fantasy' for the twins' arrival. Mariah's request. She also took over an entire wing of a hospital while in labor. Not that she's high-maintenance or anything.

The true winner in this situation, however, was probably ODB, who, shining down from rapper heaven (or, more likely, looking up from rapper hell), was not only able to witness the debut of his dear friend's first two babies, but also got a really decent view of Mariah's bare ladybits for a prolonged period of time.
Baby baby come on baby come on baby come onnnnn.

~sarah p.

The end of the world.

Oh, did you hear? The world is ending in five days.
Yep, in five days a magical ghost that has been hiding for over 2000 years is going to rise from his grave and everyone is going to parish in a fiery, horrible death.... Everyone, that is, except for those that believe in magical ghosts.
You heard it here, folks: Jesus is back in 2011... With a vengeance.

I try to have an open mind. I really do. However, anyone who knows me well knows that I have a classic, textbook case of of skepticism. If I don't see visible, audible, or scent-based proof of something, it doesn't exist to me.
I have been seeing these bus ads lately proclaiming that the world is ending ASAP, and you know what? They might not be wrong. The world will end one day, that is for sure... I just don't think that there is any way of proving that it will be exactly five days from now.

As a through-and-through skeptic, I struggle with religion a lot. I just can't trust that the same mystical being that causes grown-ass adults to act like this and this on Sunday mornings is the same dude that is orchestrating the end of the world. Not buying it.
Plus, if there really was a 'supreme being' out there that created each and every one of us, then why are we, as humans, so full of design flaws? Check it out:
Donuts are the tastiest food in the world, and yet if you eat too many, you get diabetes. Design flaw.
Murderers. Design flaw.
The older/more pregnant (and therefore slower) you get, the smaller your bladder gets. Design flaw.
Warts. Design flaw.
If God 'made us in his image', then he was slacking pretty hard that day, and where I come from, we do not celebrate a half-ass job.

...And even if the world was ending, and you could save yourself and live forever by believing in the magical ghost, think about it: in the past seven days, I have had both strep throat and a head cold. Do I really want to live forever? Do I really want to see how many more seasons of 'Survivor' CBS is going to try to get away with? No thanks. If Jesus is going to be such a jerk, and burn everything down, then why would I want to hang out with him forever anyway? There are very few people I would ever choose to spend forever with, and most of them are close family members, or Shaq.

As any atheist probably has in the back of their head, I often have 'what if' moments... 'What if' I'm wrong, and 'What if' the end of the world is really five days away???
Well, I'd be sad that I didn't ever die my hair a wacky color when I was young and stupid enough to get away with it. I'd be regretful that I never got the chance to go to Asia, where I might just get the chance to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with a crowd for once. I'd wish I'd spent more time baking in the sun, and writing, and drinking full-sugar colas, and less time keeping tabs on Lohan. Then, Jesus would burn my face off, and I'd rot in hell with the rest of the non-believers. Standard stuff.

I can respect, and am often a little jealous, that other people are open-minded enough to have a little faith in the unseen. I've always been a 'whatever gets you through the night' kind of gal. If you go to church, and it enriches your life, good on you... I just heard that this Sunday, the temperature is going to hit 21C, and I, for one, am not letting the Apocalypse ruin my long weekend. Screw that.

~sarah p.

p.s. Plus, when did I ever listen to anything that bus ads tell me anyway? I still haven't applied to The Career Institute, gotten a payday loan from Instaloans, or taken myself to get checked for colorectal cancer, and some of those things seem like they might even be of benefit to me. Up to this point, I've decided that the best way to deal with the "joys" of Calgary Transit is to ignore every little bit of the transit experience, including those that may enrich my life. One time, an older Asian gentleman spit on the ground right beside me on the bus. I chose to turn the other cheek, even if the droplets of saliva and tobacco from his mouth may have carried the secret to the creation of the universe... My loss, I guess.

On drinking and getting old(er)...

Today I woke up with a flu. My throat is sore and I am achy from head to toe. Yesterday, however, I woke up feeling even worse than I do today. Why? I had been out on Saturday night. I had consumed at total of six drinks over the entire evening, and had been home and in bed by 3:30AM. This used to be a responsible Tuesday for me back in the day. I would've gotten up and sauntered into work. Yet here I was on a Sunday morning, barely able to move.

I've often said that if I ever woke up after a night where I had not been drinking, and had the same symptoms of my standard hangover, I would take myself to the hospital. I've grown fearful of hangovers since my first, where I had to drag myself to school at the age of sixteen in an over-sized Letterman Show t-shirt (with no pants) to pick up my book-deposit cheque, or my second hangover ever, where I went skinny dipping in a lake and slept on a trampoline in Bragg Creek and woke up and puked thirteen times in a row. Since that time, I have learned that it is easier to avoid absolute disaster in the AM by not mixing peach schnapps with Sprite in a two-litre bottle. I was able, for years, to keep my hangovers in check by being careful with what I drink, but it's not really working for me anymore. Nowadays, if I mix one glass of wine into a three-cocktail evening, I'm screwed, and you know why? I am a real sucker for a glass of wine! I can't say no! Also, it's because I'm getting old(er).

I recognize that being almost thirty does not make me old, but less that five years ago, I used to have six drinks in me by 11PM on any regular Friday evening. I would drink triples all night long and then stay up drinking a case of imports in the abandoned penthouse in the Barron Building downtown and watch the sunrise. I would walk home and crawl into bed at 6AM, and still be able to keep my lunch plans for the next day. Now, if I've been drinking, I can barely stomach food in the morning (unless it's pizza or Dim Sum), and my head hurts all day long. I'm lucky if I can stay up past 8PM on days like these, and mostly spend them in front of the TV or eating tacos at the mall. Also, quite frankly, when I am hungover, I am a whiny jerk.

I guess at some point, your body just gives up the ability to process the events of the night before. Don't get me wrong: for a little folk, I have the alcohol tolerance of Andre The Giant. Go ahead, feed me tequila shots all night long. I can handle it. I can count on one hand the number of times I've gotten sick during an evening on the town. Just understand that I can't join you for breakfast the next day, as I will be on the couch all day in misery. I hate Sundays, and mostly for this reason alone. Also, that awful "gonna have to go to work tomorrow" feeling that looms around the entire day. Terrible.

I've been working on moderation, and it has not been as hard as I thought. Did you know that if someone offers you a glass of rum punch, you don't have to drink it? Especially if rum makes you feel the way it makes me feel: the worst. I've paired down from triples to singles (in a tall glass). I try to throw a glass of water or two in the mix. If a shot has any of the following, you are wise to stay away: Jagermeister, Alize, or Hypnotiq. Don't even touch drinks that have dirty names that involve the words "muff", "panty", or "slippery". Good rule of thumb. I've started giving myself a weekend or two a month hangover-free. It's a worthy sacrifice.

That's not to say that this Saturday night, when I was twirling and stumbling around the dance floor at 2:30AM in my shortest shorts to The Whispers' And The Beat Goes On by myself, I wasn't having the time of my life. I was assuming the risk.
It's times like these where I wake up after a wild evening, and it's easy remember, as I nurse my aching head, that last night was pretty fucking fun.

~sarah p.

That time of year again (an endless bummer).

As a native Calgarian, I don't even bother using the word 'spring'. There may be little spots of green appearing in the lawn, and sad little flowers pushing through the dirt, but I don't even put my snow shovel away until June. It's not rare for me to have to pull out my winter coat in May. I keep a pair of mitts in my bag 'just in case'. It is, however, the time of year when I can feel the days grow longer and the nights grow warmer. The birds are back from their vacation down south, and Slurpees grow progressively more appetizing. You guessed it: it's the time of year to start picking out the perfect summer jam.

Usually, the main concern during such task is party-ability. Meaning, the perfect summer jam must be able to start any BBQ or beach party with proper authority... Songs that make you forget that it's +30C outside and let you dance, no matter how sweaty you may be, the night away.
Not this year, however. Due to some recently acquired maturity (so to speak), combined with four years of a high-stress job, I'm far more concerned with finding the perfect 'lay in the sun in the yard with a wine spritzer' songs. I want tracks that make me remember why it's important to take a little time to relax when the temperature is rising... Beyond the threat of heat stroke, the body's natural inclination is to recline and take it easy in the summer, so why fight the urge?
Bike rides and dance parties? No thanks, I'm too busy (bizzy?) listening to Bone Thugs-n-Harmony this year.

Bone Thugs-n-Harmony is my top pick for this summer, my 29th on the earth. It should be noted that they were also my top pick in my 14th summer. These guys are the most relaxed people in the world. Trust me. Check out these stills from one of their finest tracks, 1st of Tha Month:





If these guys were any more laid-back, they'd be dead. They look like they just rolled out of bed, even if it's the middle of the day, and I bet they take forever to get anything done. It would take them hours to cash a cheque and grab a quick lunch. These are guys that take their time. As someone who has recently dedicated their entire life to the art of relaxation outside of work-hours, I appreciate how half of their songs sound like they made them up on the spot. I can respect that. Why put in more effort than needed to get the point across, right? 'Specially if it's hot as hell outside.

Also, not that I need to even say this, but sprinkle a little Bone Thugs on any random R&B track, and it *poof* - instant summer jam. For example, I love me some Mariah, but Butterfly would be a weak effort if it weren't for Krayzie Bone and Wish Bone getting stoned and showing up at the studio at the right time. Bizzy Bone showed up on Immature's 1997 album The Journey, and dropped a flawless summery track on an otherwise bizarre, washed-up boy band's last-ditch effort for success. Maybe don't venture into any of the Bone Thugs solo albums. Even I'm not that brave. Let's not get too crazy (krayzie?) here.

Where will you be this summer? Me, I'll be in the sun, letting Bone Thugs-n-Harmony keep me calm and collected. Maybe I'll buy myself a kiddie-pool. And sip blender drinks. And get a magazine subscription. We'll see. It's going to be perrrrrrrfect. Can't wait.

Pray for warmth. We deserve it this year.

xoxo
~sarah p.