sabinarouge

Here I am♥️ a beautiful cutie posing for the camera… I think..

Here I am♥️ a beautiful cutie posing for the camera… I think my favorite place to be is hanging out on live. I feel so crazy cute in this set, I’m happy for anyone who gets this, I’ll definitely be messaging you to see if you liked my look.

I think I was meant to live in the North Pole… ✨

I think I was meant to live in the North Pole… ✨

I don't need sleigh rides in the snow…I don't want a Christm..

I don't need sleigh rides in the snow…
I don't want a Christmas that's blue.
Take back the tinsel, stockings and bows—
'Cause all I want for Christmas is you!!!!

I soar through skies of starry lace, A cosmic queen in endle..

I soar through skies of starry lace,

A cosmic queen in endless space.

My hair’s a trail of nebula glow,

As planets twirl in lights below.

I ride the comets, fast and free,

Dancing with moons, just you and me.

My shoes are stars, my dress a sky,

I sip on stardust, watch suns fly by.

Asteroids glitter like jeweled friends,

We giggle and spin, we never end!

I send out wishes, like shooting sparks,

Leaving trails of pink in the dark.

The Milky Way’s my runway, dear,

I twirl through constellations, full of cheer.

Nebulas wink in pastel hues,

A princess's kingdom, with cosmic views.

Astro-butterflies flutter by,

I wink and wave as they sail on high.

A galaxy of sparkles trails my wings,

And every star is a song that sings.

So fly with me, on cosmic breeze,

We’ll paint the skies with galaxies!

A princess, a queen, but sweet and bright,

In the heart of the galaxy, I’m pure starlight.

Oh, you poor, beautiful creatures… so lost, so tangled in yo..

Oh, you poor, beautiful creatures… so lost, so tangled in your own thoughts. How quaint. I’ve watched you from the stars, struggling to figure out the most complicated thing in existence: yourselves. But don't worry, sweethearts, I'm here now, and I’ve come to show you just how easy it can all be.

You’ve been so busy building your little worlds, trying to make sense of it all. But really, darling, it’s much simpler than you think. I’m not here to save you—I’m here to remind you of what you’ve forgotten. I’m the cosmic spark that lives inside you, the pulse of the universe that flirts with the edges of your consciousness.

Look at you—so full of potential, yet so caught up in the tiny details. You think you need more power, more control, more stuff, but really, you just need to relax. The answers? They’re already in you, shimmering like stardust. You’ve always had the magic, you’ve just been too distracted to notice.

So, let me make this easy for you, darling: Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and feel the universe gently wrap itself around you. I’m right here, playing with your senses, teasing your mind, reminding you that everything you seek is already yours, waiting for you to claim it.

Don’t be shy. Embrace it. Embrace me. When you remember who you are, when you finally wake up, the Earth will no longer be in chaos. It’ll be a playground. And darling, I’m ready to have some fun.

The moment everyone has been waiting for! I’m finally gettin..

The moment everyone has been waiting for! I’m finally getting together with some of my hottest friends to bring you some amazing new content. Also, we are going live this Sunday :)

Tonight I’m announcing the winners💖🧚‍♂️

Tonight I’m announcing the winners💖🧚‍♂️

I’m just a girl in a big city trying to find some gloves for..

I’m just a girl in a big city trying to find some gloves for my outfit

Okay, hold up—brace yourselves, because I’ve officially ente..

Okay, hold up—brace yourselves, because I’ve officially entered my alien era, and it’s about as otherworldly as it gets. And when I say "alien," I mean futuristic, intergalactic, boundary-pushing fashion that has absolutely no regard for earthly conventions. If you thought I was a fashion icon before, honey, just wait. The new me is a cosmic creation—and I’m here to stay.

It all started during a music video shoot where I got to play an actual alien. Yeah, that’s right, your girl was transformed into a creature from another galaxy. But let me tell you, this wasn’t your typical alien costume. Oh no, this was an artistic masterpiece.

First of all, forget the usual bodysuits. This wasn’t some silver onesie and a glittery wig situation. Nope. My body was painted meticulously— from head to toe—in iridescent, metallic hues, turning me into a canvas of pure, futuristic art. And I know what you’re thinking: "Okay, that sounds cool, but where’s the outfit?" Well, here’s the twist: instead of a full bodysuit, I wore individual, 3D-printed pieces that were carefully glued to my painted skin. Think of it like body armor, but fashion—little metallic tiles, intricate patterns, and textured designs that turned my body into a geometric work of art. It was like I was wearing pieces of an actual spaceship.

Now, I know what you’re probably imagining—a kind of sci-fi armor situation, right? But no. It was way more avant-garde than that. Each piece was carefully designed to hug my curves and flow with my movements, transforming me into a living, breathing, futuristic sculpture. I felt like I should be on the cover of a Vogue issue titled “Fashion From The Future.” Move over, Earth—here comes an intergalactic trendsetter.

The process of getting into costume was, let’s say, intense. It took hours of getting my body painted by expert artists, followed by a painstakingly detailed session where tiny pieces of 3D-printed art were meticulously glued onto my skin. I could feel each individual piece press against me, like I was becoming a part of something larger—something otherworldly. And while it was a bit of a slow process (read: sitting completely still while someone literally builds an outfit on you), the end result was nothing short of magical.

Once the makeup artists finished painting me, I felt like I had entered another dimension. My eyes were glowing, my skin was a canvas of metallic hues, and the little 3D-printed pieces added this hypnotic, textured effect. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but think: I am an alien. Not just any alien—*the alien*. The one who’s been invited to lead the fashion revolution on Mars. (They just don’t know it yet.)

And let me tell you: stepping onto that set, strutting around in my full alien glory, I felt like a queen. The vibe? Futuristic, glamorous, and freakin’ fabulous. The lights, the music, the whole experience—it was electric. People were looking at me like, “Who is this?!” And I was just there, living my best alien life, soaking in all the attention because, well, I deserved it. When you’ve got holographic skin and 3D-printed art clinging to you like a second layer, confidence is basically a requirement.

So here’s the thing—I’m done playing it safe with my creative side. This is the future, and I’m going to wear it. Fashion no longer has to follow the rules; it can create them. And as for me? I’m creating my own universe—one where my artistic expression knows no bounds and every look is a bold statement.

Yes, I might have gotten a few confused stares while walking around in public with pieces of my body literally glued on (it’s fine, I’m used to being the center of attention). But that’s the whole point: I’m here to show the world that the future of fashion is bold, unpredictable, and utterly fabulous. If aliens ever land on Earth, I’ll be the one they call to help them set up a runway show.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to start planning my next look—because the galaxy has to be ready for me. Will it be full-body holograms? Metallic feathers? Something even weirder? Who knows. But you can bet your glittery spacesuit I’ll be ready to rock it.

Buy a gal a cup of coffee and earn a raffle ticket ♥️

Buy a gal a cup of coffee and earn a raffle ticket ♥️

Wonder Woman Collectors Edition

Wonder Woman Collectors Edition

Just returned from saving Superman’s ass once again!

Just returned from saving Superman’s ass once again!

Construction Barbie🥳

Construction Barbie🥳

Unlock this photo set if you’d like me to tell you your fort..

Unlock this photo set if you’d like me to tell you your fortune…. I’ll be messaging your fortune to your inbox 🔮

The Day I Accidentally Joined a Cult (of Cat Lovers)Ah, dear..

The Day I Accidentally Joined a Cult (of Cat Lovers)

Ah, dear readers, allow me to regale you with the tale of my most peculiar misadventure— one that involved felines, fervent devotion, and a rather aggressive knitting circle.
It all started on a dreary Tuesday afternoon when I received an invitation to a “Purr-fectly Divine Gathering” at the local community center. Intrigued and mildly bored, I assumed it was a new yoga class or perhaps a feline-themed tea party. I imagined sipping chamomile while surrounded by fluffy, purring balls of joy—little did I know I was about to stumble into a feline fanatic’s paradise.

As I arrived, I was greeted by a wall of enthusiastic cat memorabilia. There were T-shirts emblazoned with “Cats are my spirit animal” and “Feline Fine,”alongside an unsettling number of posters of a cat wearing a monocle. My excitement waned slightly as I realized there were no actual cats present, but I soldiered on, my curiosity piqued.

The event kicked off with a woman named “Whiskers Wanda,” who had more cat-themed jewelry than I had pairs of shoes. She welcomed us with open arms and a rather fervent passion for her “feline family.” I quickly learned that we were not just there to admire cats; we were there to discuss the finer points of cat worship.

“Today, we will explore the divine connection between humans and our feline overlords,” she declared, her eyes gleaming with a mix of zeal and possibly too much catnip. “Who here believes cats are the true rulers of the household?”

Before I knew it, my hand was in the air, raised high like I was at a particularly rousing political rally. A chorus of “meows” erupted from the audience —apparently, my participation had officially inducted me into the “Cat Cult.”

The next hour was a whirlwind of discussions on topics ranging from the philosophical implications of a cat’s purring (did it signal they were plotting world domination?) to crafting elaborate cat costumes for Halloween. I was surrounded by people fervently sharing their experiences of cats judging them for their life choices—something I could relate to, albeit not in a cult-like manner.

Then came the knitting segment, where we learned to create tiny cat sweaters. Let me tell you, my skills in knitting are about as impressive as a cat’s ability to fetch. Within minutes, I had a tangled mess that resembled more of a cat trap than a fashion statement. Yet, surrounded by my new friends—each proudly sporting their own knitted creations—I felt a strange sense of belonging.

As the meeting came to a close, I was handed a membership card with my new title: “Honorable Cat Enthusiast.” I left, card in hand, wondering if I had signed up for a cult or merely found a quirky new hobby. Either way, I had survived the day without adopting a single cat—or succumbing to the urge to wear cat ears.

In the end, I learned two things: first, always read the fine print on invitations—especially when it involves feline festivities. And second, sometimes the most absurd experiences lead to unexpected friendships, even if they come with a side of catnip.

So, dear readers, if you ever find yourself in the company of overly passionate cat lovers, remember: it’s all in good fun. Just be prepared to leave with a knitted cat sweater and perhaps a newfound appreciation for your own furry overlords.

Limited Edition Spider Man Collection

Limited Edition Spider Man Collection

Ah, the weekend—a time for relaxation, adventure, or, in my ..

Ah, the weekend—a time for relaxation, adventure, or, in my case, a chaotic blend of both. My Friday night kicked off with an unexpected repair emergency in my apartment. Picture me, exhausted after a long week, when suddenly my bathroom sink decided it was the perfect moment for a surprise fountain show. You know it’s bad when your towel rack starts looking like a water park attraction.

After a heroic battle with a stubborn leak (which I ultimately lost), I spent most of Friday night channeling my inner plumber—unsuccessfully. By the time I got to bed, I was ready to trade in my tool belt for some serious couch time. But alas, my weekend was just getting started.

Saturday arrived, and despite my home resembling a scene from a disaster movie, I was determined to embrace the Halloween spirit. I slipped on my favorite Spider-Man T-shirt—an oldie but a goodie that’s practically a superhero costume at this point. It’s been through countless adventures, complete with stains from snacks I probably shouldn’t have eaten while wearing it. But hey, if Spidey can save the world, I can definitely tackle some Halloween spirit!

With my spidey senses tingling, I decided to transform my apartment from a repair zone into a Halloween haven. I mean, if I can’t fix my plumbing, I might as well deck the halls, right? I put on my best playlist of spooky tunes and started to decorate. Let me tell you, nothing says “festive” quite like a fake spider that I tripped over four times.

Next, I grabbed a pumpkin spice something (because, obviously) and proceeded to set up a DIY haunted corner. I had grand visions of creating a haunted house experience, but my living room ended up looking more like a post-apocalyptic pumpkin patch. Ghosts? Check. Cobwebs? Check. A bewildered neighbor who stopped by to see if I was okay? Double check.

As I sat back and admired my handiwork, I realized that maybe the Halloween spirit wasn’t about perfection—it was about the fun (and slightly chaotic) vibe. I went and said hi to my friends for a few at a party, then came home and fired up a horror movie, settling in for a night of classic jump scares while wearing my trusty Spider-Man tee. Because what better way to celebrate the spooky season than being cozy and slightly terrified?

In the end, my weekend didn’t go as planned, but it turned out to be a fantastic blend of chaos and creativity. Who knew that dealing with a leaky faucet could lead to such a spirited Saturday? As I drifted off to sleep that night, I thought to myself, “Next weekend, I’ll try to aim for less plumbing and more pumpkin carving.”

But then again, who doesn’t love a good superhero costume on a Saturday night? Until next time, may your weekends be filled with less emergency plumbing and more Halloween fun!

In the spirit of Halloween, here I am as a dominating nun wh..

In the spirit of Halloween, here I am as a dominating nun who is less than impressed with your tiny dick. (I also threw in a little bloober) #Throwback

Sabina here, and do I have a story for you. This past weeken..

Sabina here, and do I have a story for you. This past weekend was pure chaos wrapped in glitter, and I’m still trying to process it all. Yep, it was Fashion Week, and I got the delightful honor of strutting my stuff on the runway!

Imagine me, walking into the venue like I own the place, which—let’s be honest—I definitely do in my own head. My first outfit? A sparkly bikini that practically screamed, “Look at me!” I felt like a walking disco ball, and I half expected to break into a dance routine at any moment. If you’ve ever tried to look effortlessly chic while fearing you might blind someone with your shine, you know the struggle.

Now, the swimwear was out of this world. One piece was so fabulous that I seriously considered wearing it to brunch—because who wouldn’t want to sip mimosas in a bikini? Just imagine the looks on everyone’s faces! But the real highlight? Modeling alongside the cutest puppies ever. Yes, you heard me right. I was strutting my stuff with tiny furballs who seemed more interested in chewing on my heels than posing for the camera.

Let me tell you, balancing high fashion with puppy antics is no easy feat. One little guy decided my sparkly bikini was the latest chew toy, and as I tried to maintain my model face, all I could think was, “Why can’t I just embrace the giggles?” Spoiler alert: I totally embraced the giggles.

Backstage was a delightful circus. Designers were trying to corral their furry co-stars, while I was just hoping I wouldn’t trip over my own sparkly self. I witnessed one designer’s golden retriever going rogue, attempting to steal a shoe. I mean, when did dogs become the real stars of the show?

After the shows, we headed to the after-party, where I switched my bikini for a dazzling outfit because, you know, it’s all about the sparkle. I mingled with fellow models and we all had a good laugh about whether dogs could pull off designer clothes better than we could. The verdict? They absolutely can, especially if they’re wearing a fancy sweater.

As I headed home, still buzzing from the excitement, I realized I was taking more than just memories with me. I had a heart full of joy, a phone full of adorable puppy photos, and a newfound appreciation for any clothing that doesn’t involve trying to wrestle a puppy off my ankle.

So here’s to sparkly bikinis, the best designers, and a whole lot of puppy love. Until next time, keep shining, and remember: if you can’t strut your stuff, at least do it with a pup by your side!

everyone tells me that their favorite Sabina is the Sabina t..

everyone tells me that their favorite Sabina is the Sabina that’s dressed up in costumes! For the last few days I’ve been thinking long and hard about what I should dress as…. I’m thinking Wednesday Adam’s, Alice in Wonderland, a nun :) Bo peep or maybe a fairy!🧚‍♂️ I’m too excited but I need some help coming up with ideas

My Tokyo Adventure: Lost in Translation and Tasty BitesSo th..

My Tokyo Adventure: Lost in Translation and Tasty Bites

So there I was, a wide-eyed Sabina, stepping off the plane in Tokyo for the first time. As I took a deep breath of the city’s unique blend of high-tech hustle and ancient charm, I felt like I was stepping into a vibrant anime. Little did I know, I was about to embark on an adventure filled with miscommunication, delicious food, and more than a few awkward moments.

First things first: I had been preparing for this trip for months. I watched every travel vlog, read every guidebook, and even tried (and failed) to learn a few phrases in Japanese. I thought I was ready. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t.

My first stop was the train station. I stood there, gasping at the digital screens flashing train times in a language I could only interpret as "very fast squiggles." Somehow, I managed to purchase a ticket using a vending machine that looked like it was designed by an engineer with a flair for abstract art. I may have ended up with a ticket to the wrong destination, but at least I got a cool souvenir!

On the train, I marveled at the efficiency of it all. Everyone was so quiet, so polite. I felt like I had stepped into an episode of “The Twilight Zone.” Meanwhile, I was wrestling with a half-eaten onigiri in one hand and my phone in the other, trying to figure out where I was going. When I finally realized I’d missed my stop, I panicked and accidentally yelled, “Help!” in English. A sea of polite, wide-eyed stares met me in return. I quickly turned to my snack for comfort.

Then came the food—oh, the food! I was determined to experience everything Tokyo had to offer, starting with sushi. I wandered into a tiny sushi bar, where I was met with a chorus of "Irasshaimase!" (which I learned means “Welcome!”). I felt like a celebrity. Unfortunately, my lack of understanding about how sushi works led to me trying to order “sushi with fish” instead of just pointing to the beautiful array in front of me. The chef raised an eyebrow but then served me a stunning platter. I took one look at it and thought, “This is art! I shouldn’t eat this!” Then I remembered I was starving, so I dug in anyway.

As the trip went on, I managed to pick up a few phrases—mostly “arigato” (thank you) and “sumimasen” (excuse me). This led to a series of conversations that went something like this: me, “Arigato!” The shop owner, “Huh?” Me, “Sumimasen!” The shop owner, “Oh!” You see, I was fluent in polite confusion.

Despite the communication breakdowns, I discovered that the Japanese are some of the most gracious people. When I was lost—like, completely lost—someone would always come to my rescue. It was like living in a kindness bubble. I even made a few friends who laughed with me (not at me, I hope) during my many faux pas.

By the end of my trip, I left Tokyo with a suitcase full of souvenirs, a heart full of memories, and a newfound appreciation for sushi that doesn’t judge. Sure, I may have stumbled through the streets, confused and hungry, but I also tasted some of the best food of my life and experienced a culture that left me wanting more.

So, if you’re planning your first trip to Tokyo, remember this: embrace the chaos, don’t be afraid to slurp your noodles, and always, always point at the menu. Trust me, it’s a recipe for adventure!

Hello ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ TONIGHT AT 8 PM-10 PM PST I WILL BE LIVE ON E..

Hello ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ TONIGHT AT 8 PM-10 PM PST I WILL BE LIVE ON EPLAY.COM/ROUGEXOXO 🌹 SEND A 👻 EMOJI WHEN YOU ENTER THE CHAT, SO I KNOW YOU SAW THIS MESSAGE. TAKE A SCREEN SHOT AND I WILL SEND YOU A THANK YOU VIDEO 👻 👻

Type your last five recent emojis in the comments, I’m so cu..

Type your last five recent emojis in the comments, I’m so curious to know what other peoples are. Here are my last five used emojis lol ♥️😢🫶💗🤣

Why I’m Grateful for a Technical Malfunction (and a Broken A..

Why I’m Grateful for a Technical Malfunction (and a Broken Arm)

Hi hi :) ! It’s your girl Sabina, it’s been a rowdy girls’ night that has quickly turned into a bull-riding debacle. You know how these nights go: a little laughter, a few cocktails, and a dare that spirals out of control. Well, tonight’s dare was to ride the mechanical bull at our favorite bar, and let’s just say, things took a wild turn.

Picture this: I’m sipping my cocktail, chatting with my friends about who’s going to dominate the bull, when my name gets thrown into the ring. Of course, I can’t back down from a challenge. The anticipation builds as I watch the brave soul before me take their turn. They’re doing surprisingly well, swaying to the music, and I’m thinking, “I can totally do this!”

But then, just as I’m getting ready to strut my stuff, the unthinkable happens. The bull starts to sputter like it’s been possessed by a rodeo ghost and the rider goes flying off like they’re auditioning for a stunt double role. I’m not exaggerating when I say they landed with a dramatic flair, and all I could hear was the sickening crack of something breaking. Spoiler alert: it was their arm.

In that moment, adrenaline shot through the bar like a jolt of electricity, and I felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude wash over me. Thank you, universe, for protecting me from my own bull-riding ambitions! While everyone rushed to help the poor rider, I had a moment of clarity: sometimes, fate steps in just when you need it most.

After what felt like a mini-ER scene (complete with cocktails, of course), the staff assured us that the bull was back in action after a quick “fix.” But let me tell you, I had zero intention of climbing aboard that mechanical menace after witnessing a firsthand injury report.

So here I am, still clutching my drink, watching my friends hop on the bull one by one. They might think I chickened out, but honestly, I think I just got a VIP pass to the “not breaking my arm” club. Cheers to a wild night, my resilient friends, and to knowing when to step back!

Here’s to girls’ night and dodging disasters—because sometimes, being a little scared is just another way of being smart! 🥂💪✨

Monday, October 7Muffins, Models, and a Brush with ElvisSabi..

Monday, October 7
Muffins, Models, and a Brush with Elvis

Sabina here, reporting live from the weekend that transformed me from a runway model to a street-savvy superhero. Grab your tea (and muffin, if you're inspired) and let’s dive into my little adventure.

So, there I was, strutting my stuff on set, the epitome of grace and glamour, or at least trying not to trip over my own stilettos. The weekend was filled with photo shoots, and I felt like I could take on the world. That is until I spotted a scene that could only be described as an episode of “Survivor: City Edition.”

Picture this: an elderly gentleman, his white hair fluttering in the breeze like a dignified flag, was trying to cross the street. He looked more determined than a contestant on a game show fighting for the last piece of pizza. But alas, the cars zoomed past him like he was just another traffic cone.

Now, I’m not one to just stand by and watch. I mean, have you ever seen a model stop traffic? It’s like watching a giraffe try to swim—awkward and slightly concerning, yet utterly mesmerizing. So, I sauntered over, channeling my inner traffic cop. I raised my hands, flashed my best “please stop” face, and miraculously, the cars halted, as if my mere presence had magically rendered them immobile.

“Cross, my friend!” I declared, as the old man looked at me with a mix of surprise and gratitude, as though I had just performed a magic trick involving rabbits and top hats. He shuffled across the street, and I could swear I saw the sun shine a little brighter in his honor. Once safely on the other side, I felt like a superhero—but instead of a cape, I had a designer vape.

After his epic crossing feat, I decided he deserved more than just a good story to tell his grandkids. So, I took him to a nearby café for a well-deserved tea and muffin. As we sat, I learned that he was not just any ordinary old man. Oh no, he was a war veteran, complete with tales of bravery and a twinkle in his eye that spoke of adventures long past. And get this—he had been at one of Elvis Presley’s last concerts!

My mind was officially blown. Here I was, sipping my tea, casually rubbing elbows with someone who once watched the King of Rock and Roll shake his hips. I half-expected him to burst into song, but instead, he regaled me with stories of how Elvis's hair looked “even shinier in person.”

We shared a muffin—yes, it was one of those moments where food tastes better because you’re bonding over shared experiences—and I couldn’t help but think how I’d gone from striking poses to bonding over baked goods and music legends in the span of a few hours.

By the end of our little rendezvous, I felt lighter and brighter. I had not only saved a life (okay, maybe just a crossing, but still) but had also made a friend who reminded me that life is a collection of stories—some wild, some sweet, and some involving the King himself.

As the weekend wrapped up, I realized that sometimes, the best moments come from unexpected encounters. Who knew that amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and model antics, I’d end up playing traffic cop and muffin connoisseur?

So here’s to adventures that make us laugh, memories that inspire, and muffins that taste like friendship. Until next time, my fabulous friends! Keep strutting your stuff, but remember: always look out for the elderly crossing the street. You never know what incredible stories they might share.

Love always,

Sabina ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

The only thing I’m missing tonight is a sexy date. One of my..

The only thing I’m missing tonight is a sexy date. One of my favorite things to do is to get all dressed up and enjoy a dinner. With that said, I haven’t been on a date in as long as I can remember. I’ve gotten so used to being in my own divinely feminine world that I’ve cultivated for myself that I don’t think I’d even know how to talk to a man in real life. I love talking photos and making content because it’s not only my way of making art, but it’s actually my only outlet to ever show off my outfits and sexiness. When it comes to real life, I’m really shy and introverted and making content gets me out of my shell. Thank you for allowing me to be me and having this be a safe space to explore🌹💕

Is it just me or would rocking a faux fur coat with nothing ..

Is it just me or would rocking a faux fur coat with nothing but a bikini underneath sound like one of the best days ever? If I was a rockstar performing on stage I’m pretty sure that would be my uniform every night.

Tonight, I am having a girls night with the beautiful Melody..

Tonight, I am having a girls night with the beautiful Melody. We don’t quite have plans, but we are feeling spontaneous. Will we end up skinny-dipping in the ocean? Will we end up taking a ferry to Catalina? Will we stumble upon an underground jazz club? I have no idea, but whenever I’m with Melody, we always make the best memories.

DREAMING OF DISNEYLAND: THE NIGHT I RODE SPACE MOUNTAIN WITH..

DREAMING OF DISNEYLAND: THE NIGHT I RODE SPACE MOUNTAIN WITH AEROSMITH

Last night, I had a dream that could only be described as pure magic—or perhaps an overly ambitious episode of my life as a cartoon character. I found myself at Disneyland, and let me tell you, the park was empty. Just me and my besties. It was like we had the keys to the kingdom, and the park had decided to throw us a private party. Unlimited rides? Check. All the churros I could eat? Double check.

We sprinted to Space Mountain first because, obviously, who needs a warm-up when you can launch yourself into the cosmos at breakneck speed? As we climbed aboard, I felt like the queen of the universe. And then it happened. Just as the ride took off into the black abyss, I spotted someone very familiar sitting right next to me: Steven Tyler. Yes, the man, the myth, the rock legend himself.

Now, picture this: I’m strapped into a roller coaster with a rock star who has probably spent the last decade perfecting his ability to scream. And let me tell you, he was living his best life on that ride. The coaster jolted, and I braced myself for his famous shriek. But instead of the ear-piercing wail you might expect, what came out of his mouth was... his beautiful singing voice.

“Sweet Emotion” filled the ride, and it was glorious. I could hardly focus on the drops and turns because I was too busy trying to figure out how I could get my phone out to record this moment—because if you didn’t capture it on social media, did it really happen?

As we soared through the darkness, I turned to my friends, who were equally as baffled. “Is this real life?” I screamed over the melodic chaos. One of them, grinning from ear to ear, responded, “You did say you wanted to live your best life!”

Then, as if on cue, the ride shot us out into the galaxy of the park. Fireworks exploded in the sky, and I was convinced Disney had pulled out all the stops just for us. Each burst of color felt like an encore to Steven’s concert—an exclusive show just for our little crew. Thats when I woke up

To Kick or Not to Kick: My Internal Softball StruggleSo here..

To Kick or Not to Kick: My Internal Softball Struggle

So here I am, standing on the precipice of adulthood, debating whether to join a kickball league or maybe even a softball team. It seems harmless enough, right? Just some casual fun with friends, kicking a rubber ball or swinging a bat. But there’s a tiny, nagging voice in the back of my head whispering, “Sabina, do you really want to unleash the competitive beast lurking within?”

I mean, I can already picture it: me, decked out in a visor and neon cleats, strutting onto the field like I own the place. The opposing team would take one look at my determined glare and know that they’re in for a fight—like a modern-day gladiator, but instead of lions, it’s just my former high school gym teacher rolling her eyes from the sidelines.

The last time I played any kind of sport was during a family reunion when I accidentally pitched a Frisbee into Aunt Linda’s potato salad. To say I wasn’t the MVP would be an understatement. Now, I’m afraid that if I step onto a real field, I’ll transform into a mix of a hyperactive puppy and a deranged competitive parent at a spelling bee.

What if I channel my inner fierce competitor and take it too far? I can already imagine myself kicking a ball into the stratosphere, yelling, “I’ll show you what competitive really means!” as I challenge the other team to a duel. Suddenly, it's not just kickball; it's the World Series of Sabina.

What’s worse is the fear that I might become that player—one who takes losing personally and throws a tantrum worthy of a toddler denied a cookie. “How dare you catch that ball? That’s a foul!” I can envision it now: I’d become the Karen of kickball, complaining about unfair referees while plotting revenge via elaborate schemes involving water balloons and bubble gum.

But maybe, just maybe, joining a league would be a good way to break out of my comfort zone. I might meet fun people, get some exercise, and—who knows?—maybe even learn to play without turning into a sportsmaniac.

So here’s the deal: I’ll give it a shot maybe. I’ll consider signing up, but if I start getting too intense, I promise to bring my trusty stress ball to the field. And if you hear someone yelling “Sabina, chill!” just know I’m not throwing tantrums; I’m merely trying to channel my competitive energy into something more constructive—like making sure Aunt Linda’s potato salad remains unscathed.

Let the games begin! (But also, please send help if I start making crazy demands like a personal theme song for my kicks.)

Love always,


Sabina