i wanna rub tires with you

{from cracked designs etsy}

Why has no one ever asked me to rub tires? I obviously don't have enough romance in my life.

Speaking of romance, or the lack thereof, the last episode of BSG made me cry and cry and cry. I was getting really worried because this year's episodes were sometimes overwritten and lame, but I really enjoyed the finale. No one got the happy ending I was hoping for. Frak. Poor Chief. Poor Adama. Lee and Kara didn't make out (because Kara is...an angel? That was a bit of a stretch, but I'm willing to look past it). Frak frak frak it was sad. BUT! To paraphrase a message I sent to Drew way back in June, "I hope the Chief finds out that Tory killed Callie, rips Tory's head off, then grabs Boomer from creepy Cavil's clutches and makes out with her. In fact, that's exactly what I want the final scene of the series to be." I didn't *quite* get my wish, but it was still satisfying. 

Also, I'm glad only like two people read this blog, because this post is nerds to the max.

FINALLY

When I lived in Ontario, I showered every day with citronella shampoo and body wash. I literally bathed in it. Sometimes I even wore those embarrassing mosquito net shirts/pants under my clothes. But nothing, NOTHING kept those bastards off of me. 

SUCK IT, MOSQUITOES! 

bon dimanche!

Hi folks. Today was a beautiful halcyon Sunday day. Yambear and I took the bus down to Den-bear to visit the zine library and whatnot. We got coffee at Paris on the Platte and I ordered a drink that had not one, not two, but FOUR layers of deliciousness. Scott and I ordered the exact same sandwich, which also had multiple layers of yum. Then Yambear, Scott, Dennis and I sat in the park and watched happy people and puppies, and I rolled down an hill and got covered in dead grass. I looked like a hay bale. Then Yambear and I went to City O' City, and got the most amazing pizza I've ever had. Apricot sauce, green olives, tarragon and cashew ricotta, PLUS a vegan sweet potato cinnamon roll for dessert. Holy cow.

Also, in case you were wondering, this is what Drew would look like if he were an alien ghost with glowing headphones:

It was a nice day.

I feel like this

Hey, I'm alive. Just in case you were wondering, since I haven't posted in so long. No time for updates at the moment, as I am a sleepykitteh (whouldathunk I'd ever get back on to a normal sleep schedule, right? Am not a vampire anymore), but I am going to start posting regularly again. 

Besos,

S

Sarah: Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water...

Yambear is making a zine, and over the past couple of weeks we've been trying to come up with a tagline for her. Also, because I bugged Amber till she said yes, I might be contributing to the zine, perhaps with an advice column à la Nicole Georges (because I am a font of wisdom, maturity, and responsibility). So I selfishly want a tagline too. I feel very strongly that if I have a kickass tagline I will be able to paint the tabula rasa of this year all kinds of crazy cool. Yambear and I discussed it, but nothing has really stuck. "Sarah: maybe a vampire?" and "Sarah: hates your eyebrows" were mentioned, but they're both a bit too hostile for my tastes.

Sarah: In space no one can hear you scream.

Sarah: Love means never having to say you're sorry.

Sarah: The truth is out there.

But for reals, people. Any suggestions? I need outside advice. I enjoy Luke's at TBTL: "Luke Burbank never met a Band of Horses song, soft taco, or poker game he didn't want to be a part of." I think if I were to appropriate this for myself, it would be "Sarah never met a Wolf Parade off-shoot band, green chile tamale, or outdated board game she didn't want to be a part of." Except maybe replace "outdated board game" with "MMORPG." Just kidding! But I would feel bad just brazenly stealing someone else's tagline. I'm over my plagiarism phase. That's so 2006 (sorry Trinie Dalton and Shelley Jackson! I mimicked the hell out of you).

Also, I've been thinking: If I had to live inside an album cover from 2008, which one would I pick? I mean actually live there, like if I was somehow zapped and transported into the artwork. Like when cartoon characters turn a corner and find themselves in Dalí's The Persistence of Memory and freak out. I think I would live in M83's Saturdays = Youth, just because the light is so nice and the teenagers so willowy, and then I could borrow those skeleton pajamas and the wolf hat and talk about records with that Molly Ringwald clone. Or maybe David Byrne and Brian Eno's Everything That Happens Will Happen Today because holy cow it's The Sims! Living in this album cover may be a blinding pixelated hell, or it may be awesome. I'm predisposed to think it'd be awesome. Or maybe I'd just hang out in the Fleet Foxes cover because, you know, I wouldn't get bored. And I'd be medieval.

2K9

My first day of 2009:

Woke up really sweaty. Why was I so sweaty? Eew.

Got breakfast with Drew. We drove around Boulder with no real destination and listened to Portuguese music and I'm pretty sure I saw a parrot sitting on a telephone wire. We agreed this was an auspicious sighting. 

Watched The Office (the British one) and fell asleep on the couch for two hours. I awoke to Ricky Gervais playing the guitar and singing "free love on the free love freeway." I love that man to the ends of the earth.

Talked to Amber on the phone for a really long time. She got kicked out of a dive bar in Marquette last night because her friend brought in his own beer. Apparently this is unacceptable? 

Took a shower and discovered I have a big bruise on my arm from one of Drew's Vulcan nerve pinches, which were being bandied about last night as freely as the sexual harassment and the champagne.

Went to the bookstore. Whoops! How do I always end up here?

Talked to Gabe on the phone. Plans plans plans! Also, his dad is trying to set him up with a 19-year-old. To this I replied, "Well 19 ain't 17," and realized that maybe my morals are slipping.

Got burritos with Emmy and Heather and then snuck them into the movie theatre. I got so much rice in my hair and my scarf trying to stealthily eat that burrito in the dark. We saw Milk. I cried and cried and cried. I love seeing movies with Emmy, because whenever there's a really amazing shot (of which there are many in Milk), we just look at each other and do this kind of excited thumbs-up thing. We also did that whenever James Franco was onscreen. Also, I covet the glasses Emile Hirsch wears in the movie. Go see it.

Invented some new emoticons via text with Sara. For example, :| (passive aggressive) and :{ (mustache).

Spent way too much time here looking for fabrics for my next project. 

Ate some chocolate mousse and watched Wristcutters. Fawned over Patrick Fugit.

Finished Gob's Grief.

Aaaaand...that brings us to now. Et voila, the first day of 2009. I did not make any resolutions (except for these). I've never really bought into the blank slate thing. Carte blanche my ass. However, I am excited for this year. Crafting and writing and Tim and Eric and road trip and Eye Spit: Denver's Worst Photographic Society and moving and MOVING and May and music and books and friends. Yes, please.

dressing an invisible, flat person

LTLYM assignment # 55

I have another polaroid of a more recent significant outfit, but my parents' scanner just e-barfed everywhere. It's a piece of junk. I think it was maybe the first scanner ever invented? The title/description of this outfit is forthcoming. Maybe. 

Also, Christmas. Happy late Christmas. Presents are forthcoming. Maybe. No, presents really are forthcoming. Get excited.

Wolfspeak

WOLFSPEAK

by Dean Young

It's like Blueberry saying she's a lake

and all people can do is dump in her

busted refrigerators.

No, it's like you spend half your life kicking

the supports out from under stuff

to prove everything can float

and even though everything collapses,

So far, you say, so far.

No, it's like you're repeating yourself,

which is actually a bad copy of someone else

saying the world's a dream

of someone who's eaten nothing

but praying mantises for weeks.

No, the world's a dream

of someone eating the world

then throwing half away because

a banquet's not a banquet unless half's thrown away.

Well maybe, but it's also like you're digging

in the garden and you hear screaming

then thank god you missed the baby rabbits!

Well, if you're going to bring god in, 

it's like god wanted to hide you

only you got tired of waiting to be found

so you leapt into the garage light

and said Here I am

which scared the mignon out of everyone

because you are a wolf.

You know the deal.

How everything unlaces.

You have a halo.

Sometimes you trot into town to drink from swimming pools

even though you know it's bad for you.

People misunderstand your smile.

Also lakes

and the inner flotation of all things.

Nothing is ever lost.

You can't forget where you are

when you're never anywhere

like a star. The star's coloring book 

is just like yours, the universe.

Almost none of the black crayon's left.

People misunderstand black crayons

but put a baby rabbit in their mitts,

they'll feel immense panic. 

Maybe not right away

but soon and forever.

She was watching a movie, one that she watched every day. It was her wedding video, or at least a video of what her wedding would have been like, if the world hadn't ended, if her boyfriend had lived long enough to propose to her. 

She lay on her belly on her bed, feet kicking in the air behind her, and said "Forward," so the image in the monitor, as big as her window on the opposite wall, blurred and accelerated, until she slowed it down at the reception. Some days she just listened to the blessing of the minister, a big lesbian looking lady in a purple dress that made her look like Grimace the milkshake monster, and some days she just watched when the camera took a slow track along the buffet table, feeling nostalgic for the salmon fillet and miniature quiches that she had never tasted. And some days, when she was feeling up to it, she watched the dancing, hugging her pillow while her new husband — they were twenty-five when they married and age only made him more handsome — spun her around to a bluegrass tune. She had never imagined that she would have banjos and autoharps at her wedding, and yet from the first time she heard them she knew the angel had got it all just right, just as it had been, and just as it never would be. The exchange of vows never got to her, but somehow the dancing always did her in. While her father called out that her sausage was getting cold, she cried and cried.

squid squid

What's your squid name?

Mine is Ravenous Sarah the Leviathan.