I love drinking and driving. You’re already rolling your eyes at that statement, but hear me out. There are things people like that are considered crazy, stupid and dangerous. And they likely participate privately in these antics without ever drawing attention to themselves. I am not one of these people.
Not only because I am devoid of a social filter, but because the thing I like to do can’t be done in private. And more importantly it could kill someone. If you’re thinking, that could kill you too Sabrina, I already realize that. Unfortunately, I am not afraid to die. So I am left with a private passion that I have to shove very deep down inside myself because it’s the dumbest fucking thing on the planet.
The last time I drove super ridiculously drunk was November 17, 2011. I can remember the date cause it’s the same day I realized I am super fabulous at jail. I crashed my car into a parked car, someone called the cops and I was escorted directly to jail. I didn’t collect 200 dollars. I didn’t pass go. I did learn I could take off handcuffs, which is it’s own sort of prize. I also learned that I am a selfish, know-it-all with a death wish.
I’ll spare you all the details about the post-crash comedown but it included some of the hardest partying in my entire life. That time in my life is generally regarded as my nervous breakdown, which is funny cause almost no one I knew did anything about it. And about six-months after I crashed my car I’d finally dealt with all the court proceedings. I got off easy with a reckless driving instead of a DUI but I lost my license for 15 months.
Now that I look back on it, 15 months probably wasn’t enough, but it is what it is. Regardless,15 months seems like forever when you are taking the bus in Los Angeles. I was bartending at the time, because if people think you have a problem with booze you should definitely be serving it to strangers. I’d leave my apartment in Franklin Village and take the 210 bus on Hollywood and Vine down to Crenshaw and Venice until I would board the 733 into Mar Vista where I’d pour drinks for rummies, bowlers and neighborhoodies.
The thing about the bus is that things are always, always interesting. If you pack strangers into a confined space as though they’re sardines all sense of humanity is lost. Mostly because more than half of those people are homeless and/or mentally unstable and just looking for a place to rest for a while.
Riding the bus I smelled aromas that I didn’t even think was possible. One time, I boarded the 733 and noticed everyone was on the front half of the bus. All the windows were rolled down and the most putrid smell I’ve encountered in my life weighed heavily on the olfactory zone of each passenger. The lone rider in the back was a grinning black gentleman. His hair was wildly unkempt. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but a tattered black blazer. He was at the very back of the bus grinning from ear-to-ear. A student wearing a Venice High School sweatshirt talked with his friends and then approached the back of the bus. His gags worsened as he approached the homeless man. As he neared, the homeless man kicked his feet up on the back of a seat and smiled harder.
"Holy fuck. It’s his feet. His feet smell that bad."
The kid ran back towards the rest of us, sticking his nose into his sweatshirt. The bus is a war zone and you have to be ready for anything. People that smell like body odor. Seats drenched in piss. People who look past you as you attempt to sit in the empty seat next to them. And people looking for a fight. I was mostly able to avoid all of these things because on the bus there is so much happening I could finally just blend in. But I also had a ritual that made sure I could avoid any and all interaction with strangers.
1. Always wear headphones. I don’t care of you never even listen to music, just plug the earbuds into your ear holes and let everyone think you’re drowning them out. In fact, it’s probably better to do this than just listen to music or your favorite podcast because if the shit hits the fan you will be completely aware of it.
2. Put on some fucking shades. Insane people are looking for someone dumb enough to make eye contact with them. I made this mistake once. A man smiled at me and I smiled back. After that he strategically kept moving backwards until he was standing right above my seat telling me he liked the way my face was, “put together.” When I got weirded out and stood up, he moved to the front of the bus and was the first person off. I stayed on until the next stop even though I would have to walk an additional three blocks home. As I walked back, I could see someone running in the distance. He was waving his arms wildly and screaming at me. Avoid this entirely by wearing sunglasses and never looking up.
3. If an insane person says they want your seat, just fucking give it to them. I once watched a crazy person hock a loogie into the mouth of a proud middle-aged woman. That white lady and her thin lips almost had a heart attack. Insanity is the currency on the bus, respect it.
4. Be nice to the bus drivers. Insane people chilling out on the bus for hours sometimes get bored and if you’re shitty to the bus driver there’s no one on there that can actually help you.
But my favorite bus adventure happened during the 15 months I was license free. Like anytime I had to be at work by 6pm, I’d start the trek from my apartment to Hollywood and Vine. When I got there a guy dressed like Dr. Who was already patiently waiting. He stared into the distance, never once blinking. As the bus approached us, he pulled out the handle from an old rotary phone and began to talk into it in hushed whispers. His eyes darted from side to side. I put on my sunglasses. I added my ear buds and sat directly across from him.
The ride on the 210 down Vine was relatively uneventful. Dr. Who eventually put his phone in his backpack and stared at his shoes. A lady who looked remarkably like Whoopie Goldberg in “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” sits next to me. I try not to look at her for too long. People come and go. The smile. They scoff. They’re tired and hungry. They have places to be. One-by-one they become faded memories.
At Crenshaw and Venice, I stand and get off the 210 making the transfer to the 733. So did Dr. Who. We wait in silence for 7 minutes. I keep checking the app that tells me when my next bus should arrive while Dr. Who stares directly into the sun. I wonder if I should tell him how bad of an idea it is to do that but then I remind myself that he’s likely pretty insane and pass on the idea.
The 733 pulls up and I wave at the bus driver. We have a quick exchange and he tells me he likes my tight. I smile and take the first seat behind the handicapped area. Dr. Who stands at the front of the bus still looking directly into the sun as we drive towards the beach. At the rear of the bus an insane woman in a bright yellow party dress perfect for her 10th birthday begins to sing. To drown her out, I put my iPod on random. The National begin to play and by the time we get to La Brea and Venice more people enter and exit. A strung out, thin man in a dress pushes her way into the seat next to where Dr. Who is standing. The princess in the back of the bus is still singing it’s like the cry of a siren but to all the insane people everywhere.
By the time we get to La Cienega I smell it. The putrid stink of someone releasing their bowels. I look down at my iPod and stare at it while my eyes water. Everyone didn’t take my approach to the situation. The strung out dude in the dress was woken from his opiate slumber by this stench. She stands up and crouches down in the middle of the bus. At this point everyone was paralyzed. She crouches over and starts sniffing at different people’s asses chanting, “SOMEONE IN HERE FARTED ON ME AND I’M GONNA FIGURE OUT WHO.”
And right at that moment the “Beetlejuice Theme Song” started to play. As I’m gripped by the bowls of insanity the junkie sniffs at Dr. Who’s ass and begins to bark. Just physically bark and then tears into him, “IT WAS YOU!”
She’s still crouched down like Smegel and pointing. The bus driver leans back and yells that he will pull this bus right over and throw out whoever’s causing the commotion. It vaguely reminds me of childhood road trips.
By now, Dr. Who stepped backwards trying to distance himself from the fart sniffer but she’s not having any of it.
"THAT MAN FARTED ON ME. I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE."
Dr. Who trips backwards, and onto the bus driver as we pull up to my stop. I swiftly exit and walked towards the bar. Minutes later I’m clocking in when my manager came behind me and asked how my day was. Without looking up I blurted out, ”I watched a maybe transsexual sniff the ass of a man dressed like Dr. Who. I’m never fucking drinking and driving again.”
Cause sometimes, the things you love lead you down a dark path and sometimes that path is the 733 bus into Venice.
There are a million people on the Internet that do let’s play videos and live streams. I know that. I know that there are countless people who do it and have their niche and are either really great at games or really knowledgeable or super creative or something. Lots of channels do what Diana and I do, and probably do it better in at least one way.
The fact is, despite all that, every Saturday at 7PM, we sit down on our couch, and I have the best 3 hours of my entire week. I have fun with Diana and I enjoy playing the games and I have great time interacting with whoever shows up in the chat. I think we do something that’s pretty entertaining most of the time, and even if it’s only for 4 people, I like to think those 4 people are having a great time.
Recently, I’ve started putting a lot of time and effort into editing videos, putting content up on our channel, and just generally pouring what time and energy I have for creative projects into our YouTube and Twitch channels. What I’ve realized from doing that is, even if we aren’t the best at any of it, we’re pretty damned good at a lot of it. And even if we aren’t, I get a lot of pride and satisfaction out of working on it. Every time I click that render button on a video or make it public or even just spend half an hour on my lunch break cutting clips together, I feel amazing. It feels good to be creating something, even if it’s something that will only be viewed 3 times.
Sometimes I get discouraged on this. Our stream audience hasn’t really grown much, and most weeks is actually smaller than it used to be. But right now, I feel great. Because I watch what we’ve done on our streams and I legitimately find it really funny. I’m proud of what we make from week to week. I’m proud that we’ve done it for over a year now. I’m proud of the few people who do join us every week to watch us be embarrassing and drunk, usually while playing a video game.
So I’m going to keep plugging away at this channel. I’ve been putting up videos every day for the past few weeks, and I’m going to try to keep doing that. If you want to check any of it out, that would be great, but either way, I’m going to keep at it. I’d love to see you at a stream some time.
It’s really hard for me to accept that I’m not 22 anymore. I’m 32. I’m a “grown-up” person doing her thing. Her thing is mostly eating pizza. Also, sliding into third person. I’m pretty great like that.
“Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65 or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.”—
does anybody else legitimately worry about how they’re going to share a bed with their partner when they’re older? like buddy i need all the blankets to make a burrito and then i need to throw them off of me dramatically in the middle of the night and lie spread-eagled across the entire bed how is this going to work
And if you don’t have an ice cream maker, here’s how we do it without one:
Making Ice Cream Without A Machine from DavidLebovitz.com
1. Prepare your ice cream mixture, then chill it over an ice bath.
2. Put a deep baking dish, or bowl made of plastic, stainless steel or something durable in the freezer, and pour your mixture into it.
3. After forty-five minutes, open the door and check it. As it starts to freeze near the edges, remove it from the freezer and stir it vigorously with a spatula or whisk. Really beat it up and break up any frozen sections. Return to freezer.
4. Continue to check the mixture every 30 minutes, stirring vigorously as it’s freezing. If you have one, you can use a hand-held mixer for best results, or use a stick-blender or hand-held mixer. But since we’re going low-tech here, you can also use just a spatula or a sturdy whisk along with some modest physical effort.
5. Keep checking periodically and stirring while it freezes (by hand or with the electric mixer) until the ice cream is frozen. It will likely take 2-3 hours to be ready.
1) It will get better. It might get worse for a bit, but whatever it is, will.
2) No, but really: it will get better because it has to. Literally, that’s how life works. None of us have met a person whose life consistently sucks 24/7. And if we have, odds are that person isn’t doing much to change it.
3) Your friends should make you feel amazing every time you see them.
4) Again, but really: your friends should leave you feeling empowered, inspired, confident, happy, and fulfilled. Sometimes other shit comes up, but for the most part, these people should have your back 24/7. If they don’t, BYEEEEE.
5) Anyone who makes you feel shitty without you prompting said shit-dealing (ex. you’ve been a selfish person for six months and are called out), can GTFO.
6) You can get that thing you want if you work hard enough.
7) No, but FUCKING. WORK. The people whose career trajectories you admire aren’t just sitting around complaining about the things that aren’t happen.
8) Try. Just try! WHAT’S THE WORST THAT CAN HAPPEN. You fail? We’ve all failed. We’re all still here. Who gives a shit.
9) Anyone you want to date should want to date you. And sometimes they don’t! We have all survived that too, and it always turns out okay. We’re stronger motherfuckers for it. They’re also not bad people for not wanting to date you.
10) BUT, anyone you want to date should treat you kindly. And if they don’t, that’s some bullshit right there. Like, that’s actually weird. No thank you, them. BYEEEE (again).
11) The things you like — provided they’re not hurting anybody — are valid. You don’t have to justify them.
12) Get a kickstart out of spite, but don’t base what you want on it. You will end up going crazy because you won’t feel fulfilled. From someone who did that, trust me. That person you’re trying to squash is also not looking at whatever it is you’re doing — they probably don’t care, and they’re focused on themselves (which is why they’re thriving).
13) Choice is a privilege. If you have the luxury of making choices, fucking make them. What are you waiting for?
14) You’re not the only person on the planet. Which I know is harsh. Millions of people have other things going on in their lives. Sometimes you have to pay attention. Not everyone wants to hear about your love life when they might be dealing with a family death.
15) Remind yourself of what you want. What do you want? What do you want your life to look like? Decide, and then work towards that.
16) Say yes to things. You can always say you’ve made a mistake, but opportunities are exciting — which is why the scary ones usually have the best pay-offs.
17) But if you really don’t want to do a thing, don’t do the thing. Who’s going to get mad? Your mom? Weird, because you’re probably an adult if you’re reading this and she knows that because she gave birth to you. Also: she doesn’t care because you’re an adult, so just don’t do the thing do another thing.
18) Jealousy is poisonous, so is self doubt. Jessica Hopper told me about the latter four years ago, and that reminder changed my brain.
19) Wear whatever the fuck you want.
20) Make lists. They make things feel organized even if everything else is not.
21) And seriously. Seriously? Just do the damn thing.
Smart words from person I am happy to have as a friend.
A couple of weeks ago, I left the house to walk to an appointment and on the sidewalk was a pair of underwear that looked JUST LIKE MINE. So I picked them up and put them in my purse. Then I realized how weird it was that I thought some random pair of underwear on the sidewalk was mine. Then I remembered that it was laundry day the day before and the laundromat is right across the street and that Dave had abandoned my underwear on the sidewalk for the world to see. I mean my underwear has polka dots, so it was kinda intended for the world to see anyways. The end