Sarah Godlin

I came to San Francisco in my pajamas. It was a last-second trip to cover a comedy festival and I had serious doubts about being able to talk to anyone or get into any sold out shows. Luckily I had a peanut butter jar full of “souvenirs” from Humboldt, and much like getting dogs to swallow pills, in this application it got underpaid comedy club employees to let me in. I hadn’t tried that before and it felt good.

Occasionally the degree of beauty a place holds has a direct correlation with the number of jobs you need to stay there. In Humboldt County the average number is 3 and mine were, until two months ago, all in the creative field.
I have a cute little part time job that requires the use of a…………………………cash register. Or as I call it, the panic machine.

Poor you. Your girlfriend left you for some grower douche who peels his monster Chevy out on your lawn when he drops your kids off for the weekend. Your Dog's got canine HPV. You're constantly reinfecting yourself with poison oak and your mother admitted via twitter that she only pretended to love you.
Before you off yourself making it look like an accident, let's dwell on the things you have going for you!

1) no one has flagged your craigslist post about those Bubba Kush cuttings.
2) Your landlord isn't upset about that guy's peel out spots yet.

I just drove halfway through America. Here’s what I learned:

1) There are vegetables in the middle of America, just not at restaurants.

2) You will be the only person with tattoos in the state of Utah at any given time.

3) Wal-Mart is GOD to people yonder East.

4) Eyeballing outsiders is the most popular sport in rural Nevada.

5) America is totally good looking. I’m going to ask it to prom.

I am not a flashy dresser. I like brown. Black. My clothing tends to be of the work variety. No jewelry, makeup, products, Maybe a watch.

UNLESS I AM IN LAS VEGAS...The place where a gold jumpsuit and sequened shiny boots are appropriate. I will rock that shit like its no ones business, like a shiny golden nugget!!!! HOOOWWWEEEEVVVVEEERRRR,

I have a problem. It’s called extreme thriftiness. I came to this realization when I parked on the narrow shoulder of the 299 and descended a small, treacherous cliff for what I thought was a tub of Country Save detergent hat had fallen off the top of someone’s car roof around a sharp turn. What it was, in reality, was an empty tub of kitty litter. When I found out and thought to myself, “do I need an empty tub for anything?” That’s when I knew. My yen for a deal might kill me. (Or at least mame me for a total savings of $9.99)

I am stubborn.

I am so stubborn that I don't use voicemail because once I forgot to check it and I missed a chance to interview Dean and Gene Ween, 2 of my musical heroes.
Because I never want to miss a voicemail, I let it fill up once and I haven't checked it since. It says (mailbox full- text her.) Eff voicemail FOREVER (for now).

When I was a teen I would tell my parents I was going to a Fresno State Bulldogs game and spending the night at my soccer buddy's house when really, me and my friend with no curfews would drive to San Francisco and walk around smoking cigarettes like big jerk faces.

This isn't a metaphor for their season, this is an actual grave marker in the Central Valley that I saw when I was hanging out in a graveyard with my family.

My mom was concerned about mourners thinking we were being disrespectful for hanging out where none of our dead family is buried, upon which my dad said: "Just look sad."

I am not sure what the strange part of this story is, but I'm going to go with the headstone.

GO RAIDERZZZZZZ!

Today I found John from Cincinnati. What a freaking unbelievable show! But just like so many things that the world gives us, whoever is in charge of said things taketh away......