My Sister Sarah Vasicek ROCKS

Sarah is my way awesome, smart, funny, well-read, experienced little sister, and she rocks. She has good taste in movies, books, and friends. She is understanding, and cares about being politically correct. She is one of my closest friends. When we're home, she walks the dog more than I do. She understands all of the old inside jokes, like from Rescue Rangers and "Nobody can pop Rupert's plan to take over CAMELOT!" and she understands the new stuff, like how we're both in the same boat of my-whole-life-could-drastically-change-in-the-next-few-weeks. She ate my middle east beans. Dot teases her about being a wide-eyed baby. Now she is a wide-eyed BABE. Haha. She is the most fantastic artist. Seriously, if Pixar ever hired her, they'd raise their net worth over ten billion dollars. She has good taste in shoes, yet we can also go into places like 'Payless Shoe Source' together, which is pretty much the only American-shoe I can afford - so basically I'm saying she's not a snob. She's an inspiration to me. She's helping me be positive about Utah:
"Utah sucks and is ugly."
"Southern Utah is pretty."
[Thinking about it]
"Okay, so Utah doesn't suck and isn't all ugly."
She likes Trevor. She thinks he's hilarious. She likes Danny. She thinks he's cool. This statement is not meant to say that Trevor isn't cool and Danny isn't hilarious. When I was dating Tom, she wanted to make t-shirts that said, "TEAM DANNY!" on them.

She can stand on her head. And on her feet. She can whistle with her fingers. She can make fire out of nothing. She's like Harry Potter. She glows in the dark.

There was this hallway in the house where we grew up that was really dark. One time when I was walking down the hallway carrying a glass of water, completely in my own mind, and Sarah was walking towards me down the same hallway. She saw me the whole time, but I didn't notice her until she said, "Hi," about four inches away from my face. There was a loud shriek, which came from my mouth, followed by a cold shower of water and me falling down on the floor in shock. Sarah wasn't scared, having seen me the whole time, but when I screamed, she screamed too because she was, understandably, freaked out by the flying limbs, the water, and the loud noises.

The best part was that there was a dead bird in the wall, and that we shared a room, except that Sarah had 1/2 a room, and I had 1 1/2 rooms. One where I slept, and another where I kept all of my stuff.

The moral of the story is never carry a glass of water where there might be dead birds in the walls and it's dark and the carpet is blue (but it's pretty much black because let's face it, eyes can't distinguish hue in the dark).

Sarah is also a talented writer/narrator.