The worst feeling.

I've always thought that the photos in Robert Frank's 'The Americans' were incredible representations of raw human emotion. Visualizations of happiness, sorrow, wonder, hate, hopelessness...Each page a deep window into the human soul.

I guess you could say that this photo is a pretty good representation of one of my least favorite feelings in the world... A gumless depression. Allow me to explain:

Each time my parents go down to the States, they ask me if they should bring me anything from across the border. Each time, I have one request and one request only: Fruit Stripe gum. Both the green (chewing) and the pink (bubble) kinds. Many, many packages.
You see, Fruit Stripe gum is very, very difficult to obtain in Canada, and I do believe that up to 50% of my soul is built of the stuff.

My heart leaps into my throat when they hand me a heavy paper bag upon their return.
I open the top of the bag and inhale the sweet air... I would imagine this is what heaven must smell like.
I eat them in rhythmic order, the pink, green, red flavors before the orange, yellow, blue, and purple flavors. One stick at a time, evenly pulling them from the paper sleeves so that the packages never have a surplus of a certain flavor.
I plaster my arms in the fake tattoos that come on the wrappers. It is a rare treat to find one that hasn't been cut in half during the manufacturing process, and I keep a small collection of wacky zebras surfing, skateboarding, dunking basketballs long after the gum is gone.
With obsessive vigor, I chew and chew until eventually, there is only one stick of each flavor left.
I have heard stories of parents being stuck in some sort of emergency situation where they must choose between their children, and I guess that this is what I feel when I get to this point. The joy is most certainly over. As each piece disappears, a piece of me dies.
For months after the gum is gone, I will occasionally pull out one of the saved wrappers and adorn my hand with a zebra playing t-ball, just for the memories. I always thought that it was just a sugar-comedown, but I now believe that the ending of my hard-to-obtain gum sends me into some sort of true gumless depression (spell check keeps telling me that 'gumless' is not a real word).

I guess what I am trying to say is- can anyone hook me up with more Fruit Stripe? Help a brother out? I've got the shakes, man.

All my love (even if you don't send me the gum),
~sarah p.

p.s. The little zebra on the package is called 'Yipes'. If that ain't cute, I don't know what is.

Dumpstergate 2010.

A couple of weeks ago, I was strolling past a Calgary Sun paper box, and a headline caught me eye:
"Dumpster Baby Found in City's Northwest"
My first thought was "Oh. How sad.", but my second thought was "Halloween is a'comin'!"

For the record, little dumpster baby is fine. Chances are, he will have a close relationship with his therapist in the future (happens to the best of us), and he may never get to know his real mom, but let's face the facts: the kid's a star!

I went out the night prior to Halloween with a hungover stomach. I wore this costume to Local 522 for another amazing edition of Stars & Muscles. The bar was dark and crowed, a few people asked what I was, but most were fixated on the impending nip-slips that were about to go down (unavoidable when sexy costumes are out in full effect). I ended up taking off early, and not many of my pals caught a glimpse of my most clever costume yet.

Tonight, in between answering the door and dropping handfuls of candy into plastic pumpkins, I figured that I should post a photo of the costume of Facebook for all to see. What a horrible, horrible mistake.

Somewhere between high school and now, most folks have lost their sense of humor. Perhaps it's because a bunch of the chicks I knew in grade school are now full-fledged baby machines, but the amount of hate mail I received was staggering. Responses ranged from "What the fuck is wrong with you?!?" to "Obviously you don't have kids." (they were saying that like it's a bad thing). I had 26 people un-friend me in a span of an hour. Good riddance, you humorless bastards.

I took the photo down. No regrets, I just didn't feel like reading any more angry comments. I posted on a few select friend's walls, there was no reason that the photos should never see the light of day again... It was an amazing costume! There were folks dressed as Hitlers, child molesters, KKK-members, and dudes in fucking blackface, and I'm the one getting in shit? Relax, dudes. I didn't realize that a holiday built around dressing up like sluts and eating candy was such a somber occasion.

Here's a new headline for you: "Apparently, Halloween Is No Laughing Matter". Put that one on your front page, Calgary Sun.

Also, how am I going to top this costume next year, guys?

~sarah p.