SARAH STUDER

Its not quite what I had envisioned, but it’ll do (pig).

There is (was) nice music by Sin Fronteras.

This was yesterday. A spur-of-the-moment decision to join Emily at Golden Gardens, mostly because I feel like I haven’t made the most of my summer and this was like, my second time at the beach. This summer was supposed to be super-awesome-amazing blahbittyblah, but it’s been kind of a disappointment. It’s really the weather’s fault. Cloudy until 2pm every day? Puhleaze. Seattle, you can do BETTER.

This table, found in the window of NuBe Green, 10th and Pine (next to Oddfellows).

It appears that this may be a trend: every time I hang out with Miya, I lose my credit card somewhere between the cab and my front door. I’m positive that it’s somewhere in my mess of a room and that I was being “smart” and hid it from myself. Flashback to college, when my wallet or keys or phone could always be found in like, a flower pot in some high up place.

Anyway, on Wednesday night I forgot to eat and had a lot of greyhounds. The hot Sounders were guest bartending at the Paragon and we actually scored a table right in the middle of it all. I heart the Sounders because they’re THE most accessible professional athletes (I mean, I’ve never hung out with any Seahawks, Mariners or Sonics) and they seem to like their fans and are super friendly and charming – but boy… they are really terrible bartenders. Case in point: Roger Levesque.

He doesn’t actually know what he’s about to pour- this was the first drink he’s made behind the bar in his life, and it was pure vodka with a splash of grapefruit juice… so I’m not sure why he’s even messing around with that gun.

Not that it mattered anyway. He’s incredibly attractive and was a good sport… and by the end of the night, he was apparently giving out free drinks to avoid having to deal with the credit card machine.

I have a scarf. Sounders v. Celtics 7.18.10.

Though I vowed to do nothing but love these puppies, I have made myself useful and done a few mid-day check-ins and enouraged them to do their business out-of-doors. And played some soccer. Lola is barely bigger than the ball and Obi matches it. It’s a little confusing.

My blog is hosted on WordPress and you can see what types of searches people make that lead them here. Usually, it’s just my name or my named spelled wrong… until today:

God bless the person who Googled, “can you overdose on pork?” and then clicked on the first link.

I wonder how much pork a person has to eat to seriously wonder if they’re on the verge of OD’ing. I mean, I can eat a ton of bacon and feel ill about it for awhile, but I’ve never gotten to the point of searching for a prognosis (is that the right word?) online!

If someone asked me, I guess I would say it’s possible to EAT TOO MUCH, and that you shouldn’t eat too much EVERY DAY, but that no… you probably won’t be getting your stomach pumped unless you’ve eaten this nastiness, courtesy of Zeke’s brother.

If you choose to go Google the phrase and and see for yourself, please also scroll down to the bottom to see “Searches related to can you overdose on pork“:

Can you overdose on weed?
Can you overdose on protein?
Can you overdose on adderall?
Can you overdose on magnesium?

(I clicked on that last one. No, it’s very rare- you’d have to take a LOT LOT LOT of milk of magnesia, whatever that is.)

(Oh. Figured out what it is, and more importantly, what it’s FOR.)

They’re making a live-action Little Mermaid, based on the fairytale and stripped of all the Disney.

My friend Dana’s raves about Stieg Larsson’s Millennium series prompted me to picked up the first book (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) in the airport on my way back from Denver. I’ve been slowly devouring it ever since, knowing that I would hit a point where it would be impossible for me to put it down. That happened this morning at about 8:30am on Chapter 14.

The second I finished, I went out and bought a new pair of sunglasses (my faves met their demise in Boulder, of course), walked briskly over to The Elliott Bay Book Company, bought the second book (The Girl Who Played With Fire) and a double-scoop of Molly Moon’s strawberry ice cream and went to read in the sun.

Here’s the problem. I can’t stop! I’m already 150 pages in after only two hours in the park, and I’m only pausing to tell everyone about it in case you haven’t already heard. Read these books so we can talk about them.