Five Observations From Recent Rap Shows:

1. Rap shows are the only time anyone under the age of 40 ever orders cognac, or cognac-based liqueurs.
2. I have now seen a million different gold pieces hanging on chains studded with diamonds and rhinestones, in all different shapes (Captain Crunch, turntables, and an angry lion are just some prime examples), and not unlike your average magpie, I am extremely dazzled by it all.
3. There are these dudes that show up to most of these concerts that appear to be hype men. They wear sunglasses, despite the rather dark atmosphere, and crawl up on stage, for no reason other than to sway around and drink beer. Nobody seems to stop them, but the only person they actually seem to be hyping is themselves.
4. Hipster dudes at rap shows. Amiright, people? From the clueless hand signs that they keep throwing into the air, to the awkward air-swiping and clumsy grinding, to the part where they have to stop rapping along to the lyrics when the n-word comes up, to the part where they check Vice.com on their phones halfway through the concert to see if they are still supposed to think the artist is cool or not, it's clear that nobody ever outlined basic rap show etiquette to these guys.
5. Rap shows are ass for days. The only way you ever see more ass-cheeks in one room is to watch a Nicki Minaj video. I like to absorb as much ass-based fashion as I can, and take mental notes like: "crop-tops are a great way to highlight what you've got", and "it's okay to show a little under-cheek, even well into your 30's". Obviously, I am forever in debt to rap shows for this knowledge.

~sarah p.

Jams Of The Week (The Game and Kayne: Pre-Beef Edition):

 

 ~sarah p.

Jams Of The Week (We Love Rick Edition):

  ~sarah p.

iLife.

It only took 32 years, but I am finally starting to understand the finer details of how the universe works. Terms like "what goes around, comes around", and "you get what you give" sounded stupid ten years ago, but resonate louder and louder the older I get. One lesson I have recently learned is how much a bad attitude can skew a situation. I only say this because I am pretty positive I am ruining my brand new iPhone because I was sure I was going to fuck it up long before I had even made the purchase.

I was a late bloomer, phone-wise. I had friends carrying clunky iPhones in 2007. The technology alluded me at first. The thought of checking e-mail, or watching that video where the monkey pees in his own mouth, while out at the bar at 2:30AM, was a concept that, for many years, I couldn't wrap my head around. This was mostly because 2007 was the year my mom handed me my first flip-phone while rolling her eyes at me. At first, I could hardly get the hang of texting, so never mind trying to figure out the semantics of downloading shit off of iTunes on the bus.

I had a natural resistance to the idea of smart phones from the get-go, but technology moves fast, and pretty soon strangers were making fun of my phone out in public. The homeless kids I work with all had significantly nicer phones than I did. It was about three years ago, following a particularly harsh razzing from street children, that I started considering the merits of a smart phone. No more drawing out complicated, messy maps on napkins when I wanted to go somewhere new. No more mental notes on shit to remember to Google when I got home. An entire universe of music and information in one tiny computer. There was only one thing holding me back: my complete and utter inability to trust myself with anything that cost $700.

This is where my shitty attitude comes into play. After only two months, my iPhone has a dainty scratch across the screen, and it probably wouldn't have happened if I just trusted myself in the first place.

For the first month, despite the fact that my monthly bill had just tripled, I hardly carried the phone at all. I was too scared to take it out in public, for fear of losing it, or getting it stolen, but after a stern talking-to by my tech-savvy boyfriend, I begrudgingly started carrying it daily. I put it into a fancy case, but was still 100% sure that I would drop it anyway. A month passes, and I was starting to get used to burying my face into it's tiny screen as I walked home from work, but my gut still told me to be careful every step of the way.

Then it happened. Of course, in front of several people. I had just hopped up onto a curb, about three blocks from my house, when I felt my feet slip from under me. Despite the fact that I have a very small distance to go to reach the ground, historically I tend to fall very, very hard. As I careened to the sidewalk, all I could think was "it's happening". In slow motion, I watched my phone slip from my palm and land on the pavement, screen-down. I landed on my knees, which both tore and scraped under the pressure. I had hurt my hand badly, but was not concerned for my own well-being. Instead, I said I silent prayer as I swept myself, and my phone, off the sidewalk. Please, please, please let this phone be okay. When I opened the case, there was the tiniest, barely noticeable scratch. I dragged myself home, bleeding and embarrassed, and made a mental note to not be such a self-defeatist from now on.

~sarah p.

Jams Of The Week (Deep, Deep, Deep Edition):

 

 ~sarah p.

Mature Advice For Young Club-Going Females.

My recent exploits have found me head-over-heels for a DJ. This means a lot of late nights at a lot of venues that I haven't frequented in years. I wasn't sure how I'd fit back in to the nightlife culture at 32 years old, but honestly, I couldn't be having a better time right now. I spend half of the time eye-fucking my boyfriend on stage, and the other half dishing out life advice to young bar-stars. You see, I was once quite the party-goer myself (see years 1-7 on this blog). I really enjoy sharing no-bullshit advice with my predecessors. Here are some grown-ass women observations for all of my non-grown-ass counterparts:

1. Girls are wasting booze and cocaine in this city with reckless abandon. Every other bathroom stall is lined with half-drank cocktails, and dusts of yayo on top of the toilet paper dispenser. I know this city is crawling with money, but finish what you started, people.

2. If you're not 100% sure you've gotten the hang of it, practice dancing in front of the mirror before you leave the house. Videotape yourself if you need to, until your moves won't embarrass you in front of others. Music has gotten progressively harder to dance to over the years, to the point where bitches are putting off real Elaine Benes vibes all over the floor. It's painful to watch, and totally preventable.

3. You might not be good at outfits yet, young buck, but give it ten years. Short and tight and revealing is actually a fucking great look, but it's the right kind of short and tight and revealing. You have to go through years of looking like a cross between an over-stuffed sausage and a kid that got into mommy's closet before you get that shit on point. Pay your dues, and one day you will look fresh without much effort.

4. Nobody cares anymore if you have a boyfriend. When a guy is giving a chick a lot of unwanted attention, the first instinct is to shut him down by telling him you are taken, but that shit doesn't fly anymore. It's too played. It might have worked back in my day, but modern relationships are all so up in the air anyway that nobody gives a fuck. It's so much easier to just shut a guy down by telling him his breath stinks or you have to go deal with "period stuff".

5. Approximately 89% of female bathroom chatter is "Should I go home with him?", and honestly, the answer is "probably". The only reason why any girl farms this question out to the masses is to make it seem like she's actually contemplating saying no, but usually your mind is already made up. There are upstanding circumstances, like if you are too drunk to stand, there is an obvious butcher knife sticking out of his back pocket, or he is already your ex, but otherwise, shrink-wrap the hell out of anything you bang, and live a little.

The rest of my advice is simple: be nice and polite to everyone (bartenders, DJs, door-people, everyone), don't get jealous of other girls, don't get in fights, don't cry, and if you can no longer walk in your heels, get your ass home.

~sarah p.