Sarah A.'s Profile

Supposedly many girls grow up dreaming of their wedding day, planning it carefully in their head, imagining all the details, blah, blah, blah YAWN. I did not do this.  But after I got engaged, what I DID do, as I am A Certified Crazy, is worry. Worry a lot. Worry about anything. Worry about everything.

What if everyone gets food poisoning at our reception!

What if The Big One hits and guests are trapped under falling light fixtures, smothered under trays of hors d'oeuvres, or stabbed with their own boutonnieres!

WTF is a Chivari? A "first look"? A GOBO?

What if I forget something! Like ordering flowers! Or how much to tip people! Or my groom's name during the vows!

What if there's a flood? Fire? WHAT IF THEY RUN OUT OF WHISKEY AT THE BAR?????!!!!

What if the back of my dress gets tucked into my stockings and I walk down the aisle like that lady I saw at a Bar Mitzvah when I was 12 who came back from the restroom with her skirt fully tucked into her tan pantyhose and we all laughed at her weird giant flowered grandma underwear and THANK GOD for her that YouTube did not exist back then!

So... look, the point is: I WORRIED. It's what I do. I do it really, really well.  I had no panic about my marriage. I had a lot about my wedding. And Amber was a godsend, like a Xanax in human form. And no prescription needed! She was forceful and drill-sergeant-y when she needed to be (wrangling vendors, creating amazingly detailed timelines, etc), and sweet and helpful the rest of the time. She referred us to some great people, walked us through all the details we would have otherwise completely missed, and simply gave consistently great advice every step of the way.

If you're debating whether or not to get a wedding coordinator, I am here to end your debate. GET ONE, DUMMY. It was some of the best money we spent on the entire wedding, and Amber's services were worth every penny. (Also, sorry I just called you Dummy. But come on. You kind of deserved it.)

Our wedding went off without a hitch, and having Amber and her team there meant we actually got to ENJOY ourselves. No worrying. Just an amazing party and a beautiful day.  If for some reason I ever had to plan an entire wedding again (and please God... no), Amber would be my first call.

It's Papa John's.

Not life-altering, for better or for worse. Neither horrific nor terrific. There are deals to be found, garlic sauce for dipping, and bread and cheese and toppings to be eaten. What else can one say?

Sometimes a lady needs a three star pizza. Papa John is always there to "service" a lady's "needs". With pizza. Don't judge.

Why, YES, I would like big tasty slices of mozzarella on my pizza!
Why, YES, I would like fresh, delicious basil leaves on my pizza!
Why, YES, I do think every other pizza place in this city is grossly overrated!

Ahem.

Five star pizza. Best I've had in LA.

Time of my appointment: 4pm

Time I was seen by a doctor: 5:25pm

Times someone apologized for the wait DURING the wait: Zero

Times someone apologized for the wait AFTER the wait: Zero

Level I got to in an iPhone Ping-Pong app whilst waiting: Ten

Times a child next to me suddenly screamed ear-piercing jibberish: Five

Times I thought about punching that child in the face: Four. And a half.

Times someone tried to upsell products I wasn't interested in: Seven

Stars: One

Um, OK, well, first of all: the cream puff was alright.

But since the name "Beard Papa" makes me think of Hemingway, which in turns makes me think of booze and suicide, I kind of wanted more backstory on the whole "Beard Papa" name. And so, I did a little research, and discovered a mind-blowingly bizarre video that is still, days later, haunting my every waking thought.

http://www.muginohousa...

The narration, the demonic voice-over acting of the "child", the music....it's too much. I can't stop watching it. Add into it the really unappetizing backstory of "Beard Papa" (um, he got the idea for his cream puff from his "fluffy white beard"? Gross. I don't want a dessert product inspired by facial hair, but thanks) as well as the fact that he apparently chain smokes pipes while he makes his desserts....it is a true gem.

Five star video, but alas, only a three star cream puff.

Do you want to put on fire gear?
Do you want to climb on fire trucks?
Do you want to play real instruments in a make believe marching band, clattering and banging and singing along?

In other words, are you five years old? If so, get off your parents' computer, Yelp is NO place for a child! Good God! Your tiny eyes have been ruined....

If, however, you are not in fact five years old... PRETEND you are five again. Or six. Or eight. But whatever you choose.... this museum will blow your tiny kid-mind.

Sure, you can be all grown-up-y in the "history" part of this museum (genuinely fascinating chronological history of equipment, methods, etc) and you can get pensive and depressive in the very well-done September 11th room, but ultimately this place is incredible because it turns out EVERYONE secretly kinda wants to put on fire gear and climb on trucks. Even the most somber wet blankets in our group (read: me) somehow found themselves suddenly in helmets and boots, posing on vintage fire trucks with a gleeful smile.

This is a genuinely fantastic museum, with something of interest to everyone. You can play dress up, AND learn about the incredible history of fire-fighting, from bucket brigades to modern engines. Five stars all the way.

Fool me four times? Someone should probably attempt to stop me from reproducing.

Oh dear. What is a sadder way to start an otherwise lovely day than with a bad donut?

A bad donut accompanied by undrinkably bitter coffee, perhaps?

I had two bites of the donut, two sips of the coffee, and I was done. I did not finish the donut, people. I DID NOT FINISH THE DONUT.

This is a CODE BLUE: SARAH A DID NOT FINISH A DONUT....ALERT THE AUTHORITIES, SOMETHING HAS GONE HORRIBLY WRONG....!

Four hours later, I can still feel a slightly oily, stale taste rolling around in my mouth.  Two stars because I've only been once (perhaps it was an off day?), and the woman working there was exceptionally kind. Perhaps, if I can muster the courage, I will return and re-evaluate. Just give me two to three weeks to get the taste of that coffee and that "donut" out of my mouth....

Sometimes whilst vacationing, one awakens at 11am and immediately craves a burger and a beer. What should one do? If one is in the vicinity of Union Square in NYC, one should stroll over to Old Town Bar & Restaurant.

With its awesome, old-school New York history, its dark mahogany decor and the delicious, non-judgmental noon 'o clock Guinness-serving, I was already in heaven before I even got my burger. And how was the burger, you ask? IT WAS GREAT, you guys. It was great. Four stars!

People in Los Angeles don't take cabs enough. Suck it up, dicks. Take a cab or get a designated driver. Yes, we live in a spread-out city. Yes, it's annoying. No, I don't think you should get in your car after six whiskey sours just because you "feel cool". GET. A. CAB.

When I plan on getting drunk, I call Independent Taxi.
When I AM drunk, I call Independent Taxi.

They take me home.

I am a fan.

Did I mention I am drunk right now? No? Oh. Yeah. I am! They took me home tonight. It was awesome you guys! I hope I remember where my car is tomorrow! Cheers!