I fall asleep in hospital parking lots.

I finally got up the gumption to dye my hair back to brown. Most often I am a summer blonde, autumn brunette. But this year I have been CLINGING to summer, because I depressingly squandered mine away. I don't think there is anyone who lives here who would confuse January as a summer month. SUCK IT UP, MY DEAR.

I am now toying with the idea of taking the scissors to it. When looking at these pictures I was shocked to see how long it has gotten! I'm thinking tons of layers and just a general BIGNESS. Not high school mall kid or anything, just less sleek and more fun. Or maybe not, I don't know. My hair is never something I can definitively decide upon (as is evident by the number of hair polls this blog has seen since it began).

And something cute I found on some random crafter's blog. How to feel miserable as an artist:
1. Constantly compare yourself to other artists.
2. Talk to your family about what you do and expect them to cheer you on.
3. Base your success of your entire career on one project.
4. Stick with what you know.
5. Undervalue your expertise.
6. Let money dictate what you do.
7. Bow to societal pressures.
8. Only do work that your family would love.
9. Do whatever the client/customer/gallery owner/patron/investor asks.
10. Set unachievable overwhelming goals to be accomplished by tomorrow.

Merrymeeting: an HBO production.

I spend my Sunday mornings with Sierra. It is a tradition. She doesn't work Sundays and McKayla usually works, so we always have our special bonding times then.

Today we discussed (while sitting outside in frigid cold) how our life would make a great CBC sitcom. So we decided to write a proposal and name the cast. This is what we came up with:

Blaire Waldorf as Sierra Skinner
Tyra Banks as Sarah Smith
Megan Fox as McKayla Reilly
The Nerd from Breakfast Club as Joey Miller
Dawson as Philippe LamarreShia Lebeouf as Patrick Leonard
Robert Pattinson as Gerard Noseworthy
Audrey Tautou as Amkiram Jarl
Brian Wilson as Alex Noftall
Pete Wentz as Robert Jones
Stanford Blatch as Susan Piercey
and Robyn McHugh as herself

Loving you is easy ('cause you're beautiful).

I went to Twilight with Robyn and Kaylene, and although we arrived a half hour early, we were still faced with a packed theatre. Luckily, we managed to snag three seats together in the second last row.

We decided fifteen minutes before the movie began that we were all indeed quite thirsty. Robyn and Kaylene decided to run to Timmy Ho’s for some drinks while I guarded the seats.

Who knew I had the harder job?

A couple minutes after they left this woman and three of her friends (all of them adults, late thirties probably) started venturing up the stairs hoping to find seats of their own. I knew they would be out of luck considering we had barely been able to find three seats twenty minutes prior.

I wasn’t really paying attention to them, though the woman was standing directly next to me because my seat was next to the aisle. Robyn had left me her iPod and I was enjoying the wide range of music I had at my fingertips.

That’s when I noticed that the young girl sitting two seats from me was looking at me. Now she was looking at me like I was hella crazy. Shit! I thought, I was totally singing those Hillary Duff songs out loud, right?

I took out one of the headphones in case she wanted to say something, I then realized she wasn’t trying to tell me I was crazy. But she was definitely indicating that the woman standing directly to my right was.

This ADULT woman was ranting. Raving. Yelling. Cursing.

I find this terribly ironic considering the theatre was packed with adolescent girls.

In addition to the two vacant seats next to me (Robyn and Kaylene’s seats) there were also two empty directly in front of me (same situation, they’d venture for snacks and a friend was sitting there waiting for them to return).

Apparently this woman did not see fit for our friends to pee or get drinks or step outside. Though arriving much later than everyone else in theatre, it was her right to sit where she chose.

I know some of you might be chuckling now. Because I am Sarah Smith. And I have no time for this shit. And I am not afraid to tell you so. I am six feet of nonsensical bitch.

So I do the tough girl routine (secretly nervous though that I’m going to have to fight this obese woman and miss the movie because the cops will inevitably be called), meaning I take out the remaining headphone in a slow motion cowboy kind of way. I put my purse on the floor, uncross my legs, and shift my body so I’m facing her. I look right in her dumbass eyes and just challenge her to say something to me. I am made for this shit.

Unfortunately, the girl who was saving those seats in front of me was considerably less intimidating, probably around eleven or twelve years old. The girl had each of her friends’ seats saved with a single pink mitten. I thought that was pretty poetic at the time.

This dumbass, realizing she cannot pass by me to get to the two vacant seats on my left without a confrontation, marches down a couple steps to this young girl, picks up each mitten and flings them into her lap. “YOU AREN’T ALLOWED TO DO THAT.” yells the dumbass.

By this time she has attracted a crowd.

The guy sitting next to this girl looks at the woman and says “you better not sit in those fucking seats.” Luckily (?) the friends of the young girl are right behind the woman and they plop down in their respective chairs.

The woman starts ranting again; she looks at me and says “YOU AREN’T ALLOWED TO DO THAT.” I put both my elbows on my legs and lean in close to her. Total badass (and also dumbass because one of these days someone is going to call my bluff and curb stomp me).

She huffs off yelling “I’M GETTING THE MANAGER. THIS IS RIDICULOUS. YOU AREN’T ALLOWED.”

Humanity at its best.

Everyone else blinks.

I cannot believe I've had a Ze-free two years. I miss him thinking for me. :(

REMEMBER THIS.


AND THIS.


OH MAN, AND THIS. PMD's... love it.


Sigh. He's like a smuttier version of Alex Marland.

Shaking the wreckage from my hair.

I smell of baths and oceans.

My shampoo smells like bath-beads. As soon as I opened it this morning I was brought back into my youth. Bath-beads were an integral part of bath time.

But when I opened my conditioner, it offered a different type of odor all together. Reading the label it boasts “hints of guava and kelp”. Um, kelp as in seaweed?

Be prepared for this when you see me next.

I have a challenge for my blog readers.

If you can decipher what the shampoo company means by the following statement, I will give you a pack of gum. The good kind. Oh, you know what kind I’m referring to (bubble + mint = God’s gum).

(If you can’t make out what is written, it says: “Apply to wet hair and work it like you want it. Then rinse it like you don’t.”)

Lurkers are encouraged to comment under surreptitious pseudonyms like “lurker #1” and “lurker #2” et cetera.

Good luck.