I haven't blogged in a week.  I am pretty sure my feet stink in an unnatural way right now.  Additionally, I have been drinking more than usual all week.  Seriously, how dare the people I know ask me to leave my layer and enter into public.  Anyways, before I start updating like I am Robert Stack I guess I should make mention that today is Leap Day, which is basically a man made day cause you cannot divide ACTUAL HUMAN TIME by 365 days exactly and then every 4 years you get an extra day.  Seriously, only human beings could be dumb enough to come up with a concept like Leap Year.  Fucking retards.  Anyways, if you are into Leap Year and are the cheapest bastard in town you can get $0.29 coffee at Einstein Bros. Bagels & Noah's Bagels.  I was thinking about going there and ordering a hundred cups of coffee at $0.29 demanding the hundred cups and leaving, but they probably have a one-per-customer limit and also I am too lazy to even leave my house.  Also, if you're born on Leap Year they apparently give you a free meal.  A lot of places do this apparently, including but not limited to stupid Morton's Steakhouse.  I guess I just want to say, HEY ASSHOLE, IF YOU'RE A LEAP YEAR BABY I FUCKING HATE YOU.  There it's off my chest.

Oh, and the total lack of photos on this blog, that's due to the fact that my camera mysteriously disappeared.  Someone recently asked me if I lost it while drinking, but there is no way that happened because the last time I saw it, it was in my purse, in my bedroom and I was fucking sober.  I am sure I deserve to lose it since I have been reviewing all the shit I have stolen from people while super obliterated and when you can add PURSE, CAR, and VESPA--you know you're an asshole.  Due to this major oversight and probable karmic force at work, I am just going to post old photos and maybe even some of me being super fat where I point out any and all double chins, which everyone I know refers to as Fred.  Thanks for being there for me Fred.

If I can come up with anything remotely awesome I guess I will post again later today.  Probably, I won't since I am going back to my chiropractor to have my knee worked on some more so I can resume physical activities that I cannot be paid for with twenties.  In the case that you're a moron, I am referring to prostitution even though I have entirely too much dignity to accept funds for fucking.

On nights like this, where it rains hard and the silence is pounded by the slap-popping of water hitting the house on all sides, my body aches all over. At first I try to lie in bed, writhing around trying to find the one position that will relieve some of the pain associated with my fragile bones, my fall apart figure. These are the same nights I wish I smoked so I could lie in bed with a drink and smoke contemplating the fact that my entire skeleton could belong to a 62-year-old woman and hate it, even if I am sure it is only doing the best that it can.

Eventually, I give up and are willing to rub every assortment of ointment all over my body. Every space of skin and muscle must be taken up and managed with a fiery burn to soothe and silence a pain that can otherwise cause you to vomit. When that doesn't work I sort of tremble down the stairs in a daze while making my way to the pile of pills that I'd prefer only to have to use recreationally, and I take as many as possible. Then I sort of rock myself and pray until it phases itself out.

This is my hundredth post on this blog. I guess that could be monumental if I had an actual goal. I guess that leads me to some bizarre existential train of thought where I start to wonder if I have any goals at all or if I am actually content with teaching Fitzgerald to an 8-year-old while playing with my dog while getting drunk once a month knowing I will get hosed down later in the evening in an attempt to manage me. I guess I could write a lot more, but then I would have to stop and finish it tomorrow and end up waiting to post this really important #100 blog. I guess this is a fine example of how I live my life--instant pleasure, simple gratification.

i guess i will tell an even more diltued tale about the grown woman that lost her writing job with major delusions of grandeur and didn't even look for a new one because mercury was in retrograde. probably she would not use proper context or grammar. too bad all of china might die over that. i guess i am ready to get new ink and by that i mean i am going to fuck my sister's friend and then use his tattoo artist. i am in love with myself. good luck sergeant bilko and fuck your mother.

The Ghost With The Most

Uh, here is a conversation I just had with one of my exes that apparently thinks he is getting back into my pants.  Too bad he is too stupid to realize that flattery gets people nowhere.

Sabrina: clearly, i am the most exciting person in town.
Ex Dude: i would say so. you're definitely top 8 funniest. top 5 most sarcastic
Sabrina: oh, i know. for sure.
Ed Dude: top 14 intelligent
Ed Dude: top 3 in bed
Sabrina: haha. 'd prefer to be higher in intelligence, but i guess you can't win em all.
Ex Dude: well maybe you are #1, i just said somewhere in the top 14. i didn t say you were #14
Sabrina: haha. well, on that note, i am going to waste what is left of my intelligence on watching Hot Rod.
Ex Dude: go to it hot stuff

Top three in bed. HAHAHAHAHA. God, I can win 'em all.

Happy Valentines Day. Here is one part of a three part video you may have seen before, but I bet you have not. This is of some psycho named Steven that didn't tell anyone that once he starts drinking he goes bat shit insane. If you need to know what bat shit insane is, it means he rips his pants off and starts smacking his belt around. After he does that, he pisses on himself and then passes out on the patio. Below is a fruitful array of photos of Steven going insane, pissing himself or passing out. You be the judge of which is which.

I was going to waste time writing about Valentines Day and orgasms, but then I decided I should save that for tomorrow and most of you idiots won't even read it until Friday, so really, I just bought myself some time to synthesize and formulate an article that probably won't even be appreciated. I hate you all. Here is a terrible transition, the other day, I decided I should probably lie down because I hadn't slept in a couple of days and was in the middle of what was probably an incredible manic episode where I was convinced I could paint with all the colors of the wind or something. Uh, I guess at this point you are wondering what a picture of a plane crashed all over the beach is doing attached to this post. In all honesty, it's the best photo I could find and I am pretty sure now that I have searched for "plane crash" photos on google, the good old government will probably start watching me. If this is the case I hope they send a particularly hot Federal Agent to give me hell and hopefully he will become physically violent.

Anyways, so I am in a complete state of exhaustion and I decide to lie down and try to rest. Eventually, like it happens, I go to sleep and I am guessing less than 15 minutes goes by and I have this exact dream (fuck, this is a stupid post): I am in a plane and in the seat in front of me is my kid sister Sam and my mother gets up to go to the bathroom. While she's in the bathroom suddenly cabin pressure drops. In my dream the stupid masks don't even fall, but suddenly the buckle your seat belts sign goes on and the captain is saying that we're preparing for an emergency landing. I stand up and realize this means we're crashing into the beach and I am sort of fucked. Then I put my hand on Sam's chest and we crash. At this point I also realize my mom is probably dead in the bathroom and that I am probably dead. Once I realize that death is the running theme or something I wake up and am like ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, I AM NEVER GOING BACK TO SLEEP AFTER THIS. Anyways, that is what happens to me during a manic rage when I try to sleep and probably why most of you guys notice I am always online. Also, I will go out of my way to stop sleeping after dreaming something like that. When I broke my neck, I would have these fucked up Post Traumatic Stress related dreams and I stopped sleeping altogether. Now that I have verified I am a femme bot and not a human I guess I will go back to orgasms and Valentines Day.

I guess if you do not live in Los Angeles that this blog will be sort of nonplus for you, but what the fuck do I care, really? To the right you will see a picture of my sister, Gia, doing something I cannot explain in-between shows at the Viper Room last May.  Let me preface this blog post by saying that although I do not go to the Viper Room on the weekly, or even the monthly, as of late, I have had a trillion good times there.  Today, I read in the LA Times that stupid Harry Morton, best know for his Pink Taco franchise has bought the Viper Room and plans to franchise it also. In the case that you're currently unaware of exactly who Harry Morton is, his father owns and operates the Hardrock Hotel & Casino franchise. You know, that Morton family. If you still cannot remember who he is, he used to bang Lindsay Lohan two summers ago, and immediately after he ended things with her is when she turned into Spiraling out of Control Doll.

I have a trillion-and-one problems with this and not just because I am an elitist Angeleno asshole. Nor is it because I have decided that everything Harry Morton touches falls apart and then into and out of rehab. The Viper Room has become a staple in Los Angeles. A place you can consistently count on for being overpriced in general, with disgusting dive-bar attributes, live music shows that might not even been that great, but at least you know what you're getting into. Once it's franchised it will lose whatever mystique it has attained. It cannot be the "World Famous Viper Room" once you can visit it in Las Vegas, Scottsdale or somewhere in useless New Jersey. The best part of the Viper Room has always been going there and then bragging to your friends nowhere near Los Angeles about whatever went on fully knowing they cannot really grasp the scope of it because they do not have their own version.

The Viper Room is where I was drinking the first time I decided to go topless down Sunset Boulevard and one of the first places I realized that I could function in a sickening way during a blackout. I also super love a couple of the bartenders there and although the article says that management is not going to be changing in the L.A. location, this does not mean they won't overhaul the staff in some sort of shitty, sick way. Anyways, I like the way things are because I can hear about awesome shows and get into them for free because that is how I work things out, and if this sort of thing ceases to happen I'll probably kiss my trips to the Viper Room good-bye because it's not the only sub-par, live music playing venue in Los Angeles. It's just the only one River Phoenix dropped dead in front of.

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Tall Todd.  If you are too stupid to realize which of those giant douche bags is Todd, well the taller one.  You're probably wondering if I have fucked him or something and you couldn't be further from the truth.  Todd and I go way back, WAY BACK TO WHEN HE LEFT HIS STUPID CAMERA IN A CAB AND I FOUND IT.  That day was sort of a miracle cause I just showed up in Boston but had left my camera in Los Angeles.  WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO?  Anyways, I got super wasted at the Lucky Strike around Fenway and was like EVERYONE HERE IS A DOUCHEBAG, BRIAN, I NEED A CAMERA TO GET PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE OF SUCH DOUCHEBAGGERY!  Then I ordered a shot of jager, tequila and whiskey.  Before I threw them back like I was Jerry Lee Lewis I said  prayer that probably went something like "Inaudible"  but I remember asking God for a camera.  Later, I sat in a cab and proceeded to have an incredible blackout and presto, the camera miracle happened.  So I ended up with this camera and all these photos and I was like WHOA, THIS GUY IS A DOUCHE.  He is that guy that walks up to a girl in a bar and is like LET ME TAKE A PHOTO WITH YOU!  Uh, sorry idiot, but I could charge you for that since you have a head like a watermelon and stupid lazy Italian eyes.  I also ended up with what I can only assume are the family photos from his stupid sister's wedding.  What a schmuck.  Once Brian and I went through the photos Brian was like OH MAN, TALL TODD IS SUCH A LOSER.  THIS IS HILARIOUS.  And then the name Tall Todd was born.  Hilariously, the lore of Todd has spread as my photos are usually random screen savers and people are always like OH, WHO IS THAT DOUCHE?  And I get to be like OH, THAT GIGANTIC FUCKER!  HE IS TALL TODD AND HE LOST HIS CAMERA TO ME BECAUSE I PRAYED TO GOD.  I am not even kidding, asketh and yee shall receive.  

I guess that blog was pretty fucking offensive. Too bad I never cared that it might fucking come across as shitty. God, you know what is really shitty, getting hyper fucking wasted at your parents dinner party. Here is the real kicker, I cannot actually drink like I used to and I am not sure if I was ever any good at it. But that is deviating from the point, I decided to eat raw bacon and then I was dragged upstairs where I may or may not have been physically abused. Anyways, I got thrown in the shower where I cackled like an insane person and screamed GIA, GET HER OUT OF HER (MY MOTHER). GET HER OUT OF HERE AND TELL HER I DO NOT BELIEVE IN HER NOR DO I RESPECT HER. GOD, TELL HER I HATE HER. Later on, I puked every where all over myself and my bed and I am pretty sure that after I verbally assaulted my mother with that insanity she decided it wasn't a big deal because she thought I was dead when she found me in bed. Also, probably because she raised a spoiled fucking brat.  Also, thank god for tiny miracles.

I was just looking at those pictures from last weekend with my sister. I am seriously the most pale person on fucking earth, which somehow lead me to some new train of thought. Ever notice how girls are always like OH MY FRIENDS ARE SUPER THE BEST LOOKING PEOPLE ON EARTH, WHEN IN REALITY THEIR FRIEND LOOKS LIKE THE ILLEGITIMATE CHILD OF JAY LENO AND JACKIE CHAN? Women are so fucking diluted they don't even know it most of the time. I love it when women set people up on blind dates cause they are like OH, EVERYONE IS SO HOT. HE IS SO HOT AND SHE IS SO HOT, which really means everyone looks like a foot and that chick is kidding herself into thinking she can objectify her ugly friends. If you are a woman and reading this, please think about all your ugly friends and how, whatever. I started this to make a point and I guess I made it. Oh, and saying beauty is in the eye of the beholder is bullshit. As a society we have a general measure of what attractive is. So maybe you only like blondes, fine, but that does not mean your super hot brunette friend is ugly, but the fact that she looks like Shrek absolutely does. Anyways, I bet anything most of your friends are ugly or fat, but you do not have the heart to be honest with them or really anyone else you know because admitting that you are ok with surrounding yourself with fat ugly people is a really big step. Just do it. Please admit what everyone else already knows and get it over with. Amen.

So I am officially out of work.  Not that it matters cause I guess I should have been hustling to get other writing gigs.  Anyways, the powers that be have decided to shut down the site I currently write for and it's nothing personal, and I didn't get fired.  I am just shit out of luck.  So I guess I'll just manage that like I do anything else cause really, what's the big deal in the big spectrum?

I didn't get a chance to go running today and I am going to attribute the fact that I never evened out my mood to that.  Then I got the call from my editor and he was like WELL, GUESS WHAT?  WE'RE ALL OUT OF WORK.  Lucky for him he's also writing for Gawker, so for now his ass is pretty safe.  After that I was just sort of blah and I cannot believe I am treating this like a fucking diary.  Anyways, I spent the first half of today dealing with the shit storm I started on my sister's birthday when I fully came onto one of her friends I know she's hooked up with because I am a fucking douche bag.  Anyways, he is hot and southern and anyone who read my old blog knows that shit is some sort of fucked up kryptonite for me.  Once you mix in the fact that like four drinks gets me plastered now, I went to crazy town relatively fast.  Anyways, I called my conscience today and was like UH, HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN TO PEOPLE THAT YOU ARE NOT ALWAYS A WHORE, BUT JUST WHEN YOU DRINK?  Cause ever since I opened up my drunk mouth Louisiana has been like HEY, LET'S HANGOUT THIS WEEK!  HEY, LET'S HAVE FUN.  LET'S GO TO A MOVIE.  LET'S DO A BUNCH OF WHATEVER CAUSE I AM SURE YOU ARE GOING TO GET NAKED AND SUCK MY DICK.  God, he is probably right.  Anyways, he finds me online and is like OH, I JUST SAW "THERE WILL BE BLOOD" and I was like IF YOU ENJOYED THAT PROBABLY YOU SHOULD SEE "NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN."  Which gets us to talk about the fact that we both love westerns and I comment that I think Steve McQueen is the best cowboy because he had down all the little nuances and he about shits himself cause he is like OH MAN.  I LOVE STEVE MCQUEEN.  At any rate, we're supposed to go and see "No Country for Old Men" tomorrow and I am trying to figure out the best way to be like, I GUESS I AM TWO-FACE BECAUSE I AM BORING AS FUCKING HELL WHEN I AM SOBER AND I AM A MONSTER AFTER A FEW DRINKS.  Whatever, so now I am in this bizarre psycho-sex drama that I started but want nothing to do with and I am about to be officially notified that I am out of work.  The only thing that could have made today any better would have been having to get an abortion or herpes.  Amazing.

Uh, the site I write for just got canned and now I am out of work.  Maybe I can go back to being a fucking degenerate drunk, right?

Oh man, I have such terrible cramps right now. I guess I sort of deserve them, and by that I mean, I am a terrible human being. Last night was my sister's birthday and she declared that everyone should drink including myself and my brother's girlfriend who don't typically drink anymore. So drinking commenced and I am pretty sure I came onto one of her friend's that I know for sure she has hooked up with. I guess if she brings it up to me I will just be like OH, I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT BECAUSE I WAS IN A WONDERFUL BLACKOUT. Apparently, I also stole some lady's purse by putting it inside my brother's girlfriend's purse. God, I am a fucking wreck when I start drinking. Anyways, here are some photos from last night.

I guess it's that time where I blog something stupid and unimportant and you guys hang on my ever word, or maybe you don't clearly, I could care less. When is 3:10 to Yuma going to get on ITunes. I really need it to hurry up and get listed on there so I do not have to ride my bike down to the corner and get into a screaming match with the idiots at Blockbuster like I do anytime I set foot into that place. Once, I went in there to rent something stupid and when I got to the counter they were like WELL, NOW WE NEED TO SEE YOUR ID and I was like I WALKED HERE. I DON'T EVEN CARRY AN ID IN THE CASE THAT I GET HIT BY A CAR I CANNOT BE ID'D. Luckily, my brother's friend was working there at the time and he realized that I am the sort of person that will eventually lean over and slap the person be hind the counter. Anyways he helped me out and I knew that the other idiot would have it out for me. After I dropped that movie off I really didn't give the encounter much thought (god, this is taking forever). Anyways, months and months later I ended up back at Blockbuster and they were like YOU NEVER RETURNED THAT MOVIE. So of course I went ape shit one more time and then vowed to burn Blockbuster to the ground. Since I've never actually burned anything to the ground, including Blockbuster, it means I have a personal vendetta against their establishments and give them hell whenever I can. I still don't understand the point of this rant, but I guess it has something to do with the fact that I am dying to see 3:10 to Yuma. Man, I love westerns. But don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's going to be the best western or even the best movie I have ever seen. I just want to see it though.

I guess on that note I should talk about television.  Although, mostly it sucks there's a couple of really great shows that recently started.  Breaking Bad on AMC is probably the best television show to come out since I can remember.  It's about Walter, a boring high school chemistry teacher that finds out he's got an inoperable tumor in his lung.  He's also got a pregnant wife and a teenage son with cerebral palsy.  On a whim, he contacts a former student of his who happens to make meth.    His plan is too cook up a couple of amazing batches of meth then take the money and set his family up so they can continue in comfort after he's gone.  Anyways, the amount of insane hijinx that Walter's gotten into in the past two weeks are more awesome than I can explain and are almost on a Nip/Tuck level without all the weird tranny shit.  I highly recommend watching this show if you're going to waste time watching anything this spring.

Now that I have brought my work to my blog I can talk about stuff that is less boring.  My sister turns 25 on Saturday.  Hilariously, this past July the day before I turned 26 I decided to blow it out my ass and I met like 10 of these kids from fucking Kentucky and on a whim I invited them all home with me and then I blacked out.  When I woke up there was sand everywhere and these kids were all over the house.  I got up and went to work and left my sister with the problem.  This year when she decides to do something as utterly stupid I am going to be there to manage it, and if I've taken too many sedatives to be helpful, I'll deal with it in the morning.