Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Bloggerstock: Before There Were Blogs

I decided to participate in Bloggerstock again this month! Mostly because the theme was "before there were blogs," and I really wanted an excuse to read through my 4th grade diary. I swear, if I talked about God and Jesus any more, I'm pretty sure the good Lord himself would have ridden down from heaven on a white horse just to say, "OhmyfuckingMe, would you shut up about Us for one freaking minute?" I was a devoted follower, yo.

Anybabyjesushatesme, as I said, the theme is "before there were blogs". I'll let Alex explain what that means for you:

This month we are going to do a throwback post. Go find one of your diaries or journals, pick an entry, and post it for Bloggerstock. You are welcome to scan a page (or the entire entry) to include, or type it out. If you feel like you need to change some names or block out some things, that is OK as long as the entry is readable. Then re-examine the situation and re-write the entry as if it was something that happened today, so apply your current perspective. Show what your entry was like then and how you would have written it had it happened today.

You can find my post over at our founding father's blog hiz-ere.
This month, I'm happy to host a good bloggity friend, K. Syrah. She's been here once before for karaoke, but this will be here first time here with Bloggerstock. Make sure to check out her blog, Shoes Never Worn. Even if you don't agree with everything on it, you have to admit, it's a great read. Without further ado...
From 2002:

“I’ve only ever wanted to be a Writer, but the more I know of my peers, the more I think that books are dying. No one can tell good writing from bad. How the heck am I supposed to learn how to be good when even I’m having a hard time figurin[sic] it out?”

I can’t say that I feel different, from what I wrote almost a decade ago.

Most people who "love" On the Road by Jack Kerouac haven't actually read it. It’s like people who claim that they love the Bible, but can't quote the most rudimentary things about it (or have skipped that pesky Leviticus thing...). It seems that people only read something after the movie version has come out.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." said RNC Steele after declaring that his favorite book was War and Peace. Too bad that quote was from the much beloved Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens.

I don't blame him. Most people can't quote Melville past "call me Ishmael".

My whole life I have wanted to be a Soldier and a Writer, but each seem to be declining as a profession, losing their luster, and the values that had made them great.

Here I am, my second book going through edits and my third novel still in the pre-contemplative stage and I realize that I may be wasting my time.

I still lament the demise of my career, but pursue it nonetheless.

Futility is no obstacle to an addict.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Welcome to Middle School, Bitches. Muahahaha!

Writing for Childhood Trauma (a new group blog that recaps books from childhood, such as Sweet Valley, Goosebumps, and Babysitter's Club) has brought me back to my middle school days. Unfortunately for me, that is never a good thing. Middle school was quite traumatizing for 6th grade booknerd Sara, and I like to pretend that those memories are from a movie and not from my actual life. So today, I bring you five memories that remind me why middle school sucked balls. (And if you'd like to read my latest recap of a Sweet Valley High book, in which we all get to make fun of fat people, go here.)

1. When I was in middle school, ugly brown sandals were super in style. Obviously, I forced my mother to buy them for me. Unfortunately, she bought the off-brand version because buying a pair of $50 sandals for a 7th grader who would stop wearing them after a week was not her idea of a good time. What I didn't know about these sandals is that they made my feet sweat like a pregnant woman at a theme park. And sweat = smell, which means Sara x sandals + gym class = everyone in a 10-foot radius being able to smell the grossness of my sweaty feet. And I always wondered why I wasn't popular...

2. Speaking of gym class, in 6th grade, we started having to change into shorts and a tshirt for gym. My mom hadn't let me start shaving yet, because shaving was for kids who were responsible and could handle it AKA not me. For the first part of 6th grade, I had to spend every day in gym with my hairy, pasty white legs pressed into the back of the girl in front of me on the bleachers. I'm sure she was very appreciative.

3. In 8th grade, I went on a mission trip for church. I was in charge of babysitting toddlers at the church, with the assistance of a friend of mine. I was playing with one of the little girls and lifted my arms up in the air to play a game.

"OH MY GOD SARA. Have you EVER shaved under your arms before?!" my friend said, as my arms were raised way over my head.

"Um, well, I just... forgot, and..... um.... it takes so long? Uh, mybad." Bitch.

4. I tried out for every sports team ever invented at my middle school. Had I ever tried any of these sports for reals before the tryout? LOL Of course not, y'all. I just wanted to be cool and popular, and I figured a sports team was the way to do it. Obviously, I did not make any of these teams. Basketball, softball, track, cheerleading, danceline.... NONE OF IT. And I cried every single time I didn't make it. My poor mother....

5. In 7th grade, a new girl came to school. She was pretty and sweet and immediately well-liked by all of my classmates. Halfway through the year, she told us that she had diabetes and had to carefully watch what she ate. For the greater part of 7th and 8th grade, I desperately wished that I could have diabetes, too. I read all sorts of books on the subject, fiction and non-fiction. I related to all of the characters in movies who had diabetes (Babysitter's Club, anyone?), and I pretended to watch what I ate, so I could be just like all of those diabetic characters in books and movies.

I was pretty fucking weird, you guys. And after typing out this list, there is no doubt in my mind that there was a reason I wasn't cool. 7th grade me was a fucking creep, yo.

Share your middle school horror stories in the comments, and I'll send a prize to the person with the most horrific one! This should be fun...

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

A Giant Rooster and a Giveaway

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a little contest.

Last week, my friend Cynthia rented out a booth at a craft fair downtown. My sister and I decided to go together to support her new business. After we parked and started walking towards the festival and the booths, we looked around and noticed that we were a bit out of place. "Do you feel really white right now?" we asked each other, before looking up and noticing a huge banner that read, "PHILLIPINO FESTIVAL."

Cynthia had a smaller booth on the outside of the commotion, and she was sitting down with my other sister when Sabrina and I walked up. We looked through her jewelry and found some really pretty things. Sabrina bought me a gorgeous necklace, and I found another really cute one that I wanted to give away on my blog.

Cynthia: Here's some change. You guys don't have to pay full price.
Sabrina: Cynthia, you give us free jewelry every Christmas and birthday. I think it'll be fine if I pay you full price.
Cynthia: No, really! Here you go! Take this five back!
Sabrina: *look of death*
Cynthia: *withers away*

Her look of death is that powerful, y'all. I swear, she learned it from my mother and it makes your tummy a little queasy inside when the full wrath of it hits you in the face.

After purchasing our goodies, Cynthia pointed to a booth across from her with two preteenaged girls sitting behind it. You know, the ZOMG ROBERT PATTINSON IS SO DREAMY LOLZ I LUV HIM age. I glanced at their booth, looked away, and OHMYFUCKINGGOD DOUBLETAKE.

These girls are fucking awesome.
GUYS! It says "Pursy Girls!" They make purses, jeez. Stop being so gross and thinking it says something else. Pervs.

We decided to leave after about an hour of milling around, but the road we came in on was blocked due to traffic. We went the other way and just hoped we would find our way out easily. Downtown Shreveport isn't very large, and it only takes a few blocks to figure out where you are. Sabrina was turning down a road in the ghetto when we came to a stop sign and BEHOLD! A BEAUTIFUL SIGHT FROM GOD!

There was A HUGE COCK in the middle of a deserted parking lot. It made no sense. There was no business in the vicinity of this cock. There wasn't a sign on the cock. There wasn't anything explaining what the fuck this random cock was doing in a parking lot.

Sabrina: Do you want to take a picture with it??

Is this not a GIANT cock or what?
I'm pretty sure God placed that cock there as a present for me, because what other explanation could there possibly be for a random rooster in the middle of nowhere down a ghetto street that my sister just happened to turn down. God is all, "I know life has been a little stressful for you lately, Sara. So here. Enjoy this giant cock."

I most certainly will, sir, I most certainly will....

And now it's your turn to win a gift! But not from God, from me. God could probably give you way cooler shit, but would he show you a picture of him wearing said shit? I think not. You lose this round, God. You're all entering to win this very cute necklace that I bought from Cynthia.

If you have cleavage, the pendant falls right between  your boobies! WIN!
All you have to do to enter is come up with a caption for the picture of me with the giant cock. Leave your caption in the comments section below, and my sister Sabrina will be choosing her favorite as the winner, since we all owe it to her for finding the giant cock in the first place. You can enter as many times as you want, and don't be afraid to get dirrrty. Since I know a lot of you (including me) are going through finals right now, I'll keep the contest open until Friday, May 13th.


And speaking of Friday the 13th, Childhood Trauma will have a brand new Goosebumps review up to celebrate! Look forward to that! And if you have any Sweet Valley High books you'd like to donate to the website (aka ME), send me an email! Also, also, we will be having Karaoke Ring of Death next month, and I'm thinking the theme will be either rap or songs from your high school playlist. Ideas? Suggestions? Complaints? Leave me a comment! (Unless it's a complaint, then you can just take that shit right to the shredder because my department doesn't handle those, thankyouverymuch.)

Thursday, May 5, 2011

We'll Blow It! (TWSS)

In my marketing class, we were assigned groups and given a marketing plan project. The goal was to invent your own business and go over a marketing plan in front of the rest of the class for a grade.

One of the groups in my class was an all-girl group, running a pretend lawn care business.

Girl:  We'll mow your lawn, plant grass, use pesticides to get rid of bugs...

She trailed off, trying to remember what she was supposed to say next.

Girl:  We do all sorts of things. We'll even clean up afterward, sweeping up the leftover grass or leaf blowing things out of your yard.... anything you need blown, we'll do it!


TWSS = That's What She Said


For a new Childhood Trauma post mocking Nancy Drew, go hiz-ere.

For yesterday's long ass Medieval Times in Dallas post, go hiz-ere.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Sara Does Dallas: Medieval Times

We have our first snarky Goosebumps review up on Childhood Trauma! In this book, a girl chokes another girl out because SHE MESSED UP HER SHOES. Honestly, I'm not judging her at all. You don't fuck with a girl's shoes, yo.

I'll also be having a giveaway next week for a necklace made by my friend Cynthia. Her blog can be found here. Tune in!

After eating Chinese food and making ourselves as beautiful as our tired limbs could handle, we left the hotel and headed for Medieval Times, which was less than two minutes away. Being in the hot sun all day at Six Flags had drained us, but we caught our second wind on the drive to the castle.

(Aside:  For those of you who don't know what Medieval Times is, here's some information. Medieval Times is a dinner and a show in which you watch six knights compete in a tournament to be King's Champion. The people who attend the show are divided into six different groups based on the color of the knight they will be rooting for. They are assigned a knight to root for and an enemy to boo. They are also given these sweet ass crowns to wear. Don't be jealous.)

We stood in a short line of people, waiting to be assigned a knight and crowned by a man who would have looked like a peasant from the medieval times if he hadn't been handing out laminated table cards and construction paper crowns. He assigned us to the red team! Little did we know, being on the red team would make the Medieval Times experience one of the most magical nights of our lives.

When it was time to head in to the stadium to watch the show, we could hardly contain our excitement. We ended up seated in the very top row. Right after being seated, a waitress gives you all the information you'll need for the show regarding what food you will be eating and which knight you will be cheering for.

Waitress:  Our section will be cheering for the red knight! On the count of three, I want to hear your loudest cheers. 1.....


Waitress:  Um, okay, guys? Why don't you wait until I count to three this time, so we can....


I should probably mention at this point that somehow, whether on accident or not, every drunk attending Medieval Times that night was on the red team.

This. Was. Awesome.

The way Medieval Times works is basically a rehearsed play. Every night, a new knight gets to be the "winner" of the tournament. There is also a different knight every time playing the role of the bad guy. It just so happens that while we were there, our assigned hate was to be placed on the bad guy of the night.

Waitress:  We'll be boo'ing the green knight. So anytime you see the...


Waitress:  Sigh.

After the waitress gave up trying to tell us how the game would work, the green team apparently grew some balls and decided to try chanting GREEN. GREEN. GREEN. GREEN.

Emily:  Look at that old ass man trying to lead his team into chanting. How embarrassing is that?
Me:  Fuck that shit. We'll put him in his place.

Which is when the four of us got the entire red team to start chanting RED. RED. RED. RED. RED. until poor little green team's chanting just slowly dwindled from GREEN. GREEN. GREEN. into, "um, green....ahem coughcough, nevermind guys, let's just give it up."

The green team awkwardly sat back down, knowing that they had been beat, but that certainly didn't shut the red team up. Everyone on team red continued screaming like a bunch of monkeys hyped up on crack and red bull until the show started.

Right before the show officially began, we noticed one man in particular who seemed to be having a very good time. He was probably about 28 years old, wearing a pink polo, and every time we saw him, he had a rather large glass of beer in his hand. He had also spent ten dollars on a plastic sword that lit up when you pushed a button.

Some guy brought out light-up swords and princess wands to pass out for free, because he could apparently tell that the drunkies were going to cause mayhem if they didn't have toys to play with.

Every single time someone on the red team would lift up their light-up sword, Pink Shirt Guy would haul ass across the stadium-like setting to hold his light-up sword out to them in a declaration of.... loyalty? bravery? friendship? No one really knows, not even Pink Shirt Guy.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd started getting pumped up for the show. The actors start with their dialogue.

"You've been captured, fool! Get yo ass on this horse and come with us!"
"Fuck that, yo. I gots me a fine lady at home, waitin' to bone."
(Or something like that)
Random guy in crowd: RED! RED! RED! RED! RED!

We were all, "Man, that guy is kind of obnoxious, right? We haven't even seen the red knight yet, and he's already screaming."

At least, that's what we would have said if we hadn't all been drinking, too.

In reality, we said, "RED! RED! RED! RED! RED! RED!" I'm pretty sure no one in our section knew what the fuck was going on for the rest of the show, thanks to all the screaming through the dialogue.
Finally, it was time for the knights to come out. They all trotted out one by one, and the last to appear was the red knight.

AND "OH. MY. GAWD." as Katelynn would say.


So as he trotted out on his horse, Katelynn and I may have swooned a bit. Well, maybe a little more than a bit. Okay, maybe kind of a lot.

A conversation the SSSS had after arriving home from Dallas:

Emily:  Sara, can we talk to you about something?
Sara:  Sure?
Emily:  I've heard of the Bieber effect. I've seen it on TV and in movies. Women fainting and crying and falling all over themselves to get to a man who they have NEVER EVEN HAD A CONVERSATION WITH. But I've never experienced it in person before. It was terrifying.
Andy:  I was concerned.

And he really was, y'all. A couple of times during the show, I broke my gaze with Prince Sara'sFutureBoyfriend to see what Andy was doing, and he was always looking at me with this concerned face, like he was worried we would have to stop at a mental institution (or a strip club) on the way home.

At one point, Prince SFB looked in our direction and made one of those sexy man faces that only sexy men can make sexy, yaknowwhatimean? Katelynn and I literally squealed, you guys. We literally squealed.

Katelynn:  He was looking right at us!!
Me:  He's totally in love with us!!
Both:  SQUEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

I know, I know. I'm embarrassed of myself. (Except not really at all, because if you were there, you would have done the same exact thing. He was a fucking prince, y'all!)

Unfortunately, he never threw us a rose, but we decided it's because he didn't want to make the little girls cry by giving the flowers to the two sexiest girls in the room. Totally understandable.

At the end of the show, Red Knight was whooping everyone's asses, and the red team was completely out of control.


He delivered a blow to the green knight that sent him stumbling to the side, without any weapons to defend himself.


The red knight delivered one last hit, and we had officially won the competition.

My voice was completely gone after the show because I spent the entire thing screaming as loud as I possibly could. But Katelynn and I still made sure to meet Pink Shirt Guy out in the lobby, where he was chugging another beer. We told him how awesome he was, and he agreed.

We also made sure to cut some little kids off to take a picture with the red knight. HE'S OURS FIRST, LITTLE BITCHES. Poor seven year olds...

When we finally finished eyehumping the knights, we made our way to the parking lot, exhausted and ready to get back to the hotel and finish our dranking there. The end of the road trip was near, and we were all sad that the fun things we had planned were over.

We had no idea that the next day would be the most amazing part of the entire trip.

Next up:  Magic Time Machine

**Medieval Times is seriously one of the best experiences I've ever had. The thing that makes it so much fun is that there are NO RULES. The show wasn't ruined with lots of "turn off your cell phone!" and "quiet down, everyone" announcements. Guests could walk in and out of the stadium as they pleased. Bartenders were sent out to take drink orders several times during the show.

It was a lot like a sporting event, the way people got so into it. We were still chanting, "RED! RED! RED! RED!" when we were out in the parking lot, and complete strangers would join in because none of us wanted the experience to end. Overall, Medieval Times is a really fun place to plan a weekend with friends who know how to have a good time. (Plus there's alcohol involved, which is badass.)

I am in no way being compensated by Medieval Times for this post. It was a great way to celebrate my birthday, and you should definitely see if you can find one in your area, get a group together, and drunkenly root for your prince-like knight. BUT DON'T YOU DARE FALL IN LOVE WITH PRINCE SARA'SFUTUREBOYFRIEND.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Shitty Movie Awareness Club: Pop Star Movies

This is my first time participating in Nugs' Shitty Movie Awareness Club, and I'm pretty excited. I already live by the riffing code, thanks to too many hours of Mystery Science Theater 3000, so it only makes sense to jump in on this movie ring. I decided to review Miley Cyrus' The Last Song, because it's practically a work of art. You can find my review on Mandy Moore's blog. I also posted my first official Sweet Valley High review on my other snarky blog, Childhood Trauma. There's a lot going on today, people.

Today, I get to host the ring leader herself, Nugs! I feel so honored to have her here. And I'm basically in a big boob sandwich, which is pretty awesome. Without further ado...

I am totally fired up for this month's SMAC! (In case you haven't noticed, we finally chose a moniker for the ring! Welcome to the Shitty Movie Awareness Club, so named by myself and Tits). Not only do I get to post for Sara Nips, one of my best bloggy friends EVER, but if you head over to That Ain't Kosher you'll get to read a review from Tsa, who was demented awesome enough to play tour guide for me when I visited San Francisco a few months ago.

Read that one afterwards, though. What you should subject yourself to first is my eloquent re-telling of the storied cinematic classic From Justin to Kelly.

When we decided to review movies starring pop stars for the latest edition of SMAC, I knew immediately which one I was gunning for (emphasis on gun). I had never seen From Justin to Kelly, and I prayed that the film’s title described the oncoming path of a wayward bullet.

Alas, it did not. From Justin to Kelly stars (?) two of the singers from the brain-hammer that is American Idol, Kelly Clarkson and Justin Guarini or however the fuck you spell it. Basically they meet each other on a Spring Break trip to somewhere I don’t remember because I blocked it out and assault our eyes and ears with what they consider singing and/or dancing.

Check out these breathtaking originals
I should have known what I was getting into from minute one. I mean, check out the tag line on IMDB:

A lonely, sexually repressed man. A depressed woman. A summer camp. On this fateful night, they will meet... and their hearts will become one.

What the fuck? Who wrote this? That makes it sound like a Holocaust movie, which would have been way less depressing than this shit. What makes this movie even more unbelievable is that Kelly’s bitchy blond friend (we know she’s a bitch because she’s blond and wears sluttier outfits than Kelly) tries to steal Justin away. Seriously? Dude looks like Sideshow Bob with a Taco Bell anus and a Labradoodle face.

Who one inspires more sexytimes?
Eventually the two of them finally connect, but does it really matter?

So then there are a bunch of craptastic musical numbers with choreography that makes children’s dance recitals look like the Joffrey Ballet, and also there is singing. My God, the singing. The only redeeming quality I can come up with for this film is that after eighty-one minutes, I didn’t want to drive a rusty nail slowly through my skull. Drinking the Tide under my sink would have sufficed nicely enough. I was hoping for at least a glimmer of enjoyment and some brief moments of hilarity, but no. I kept glancing at the clock thinking at least twenty minutes had passed, but it had only been like, thirty seconds.
So, this was obviously a stepping stone to both of the lead actors’ careers. Clarkson, thankfully, can wipe this off her resume due to her two Grammy awards for the multi-platinum Breakaway, and Guarini can start dusting off his resume because I heard they’re opening a Quizno’s down the block. He wouldn’t even have to spend the gas money. WIN!

I’m actually going to recommend that you guys watch this movie. It is so awful, so painfully terrible, that I need to not be alone in my suffering.