Hello!!
Hopefully you all had a wonderful holiday - full of delicious food and low on the family drama. I only got yelled at once throughout my week home, so I say that Thanksgiving was quite the success!
So, a topic came up once again this past week: children. More specifically, the discussion came up about why I don't want children. Don't get me wrong, kids are cute and I've got nothing against them. I just don't want my own. In light of what appears to be confusion, I figured today is as good as any to finally set the record straight. Here's why I don't want kids.
- You don't get take-backs. The second you hit fetus status... the rest of your life has been permanently changed. There is no other single decision that has this much impact on your future. Jobs can change, tattoos can be covered or removed, you can always go back to school or clean up your act, but children are FOR-E-VER.
- Conversely, your screw-ups are no longer just your screw-ups. Being an idiot is no longer an option once you're a parent. Sure, real parents do it all the time... but those people are widely considered to be selfish wastes of life that deserve their children taken away... so my statement stands.
- Babies grow INSIDE YOU!!!! How am I not supposed to feel like I've been abducted and forced to carry alien spawn?? Pregnancy is creep-tastic.
- Spontaneity becomes having yams instead of baked potatoes. Okay, that's extreme, but I'm still holding onto my dream of living all over the world and being able to drop everything at a moment's notice.
- Let's face it... I'm selfish. I'm #1 in my book, and if I can't be #1... I at least like a fair exchange. Friendships, relationships, etc. all allow for a certain give and take. Having been a daughter for 23 years, I feel that I have enough authority to state that the parent-child relationship, however, is extremely lopsided. In that case, I'm fairly certain that I would hold some level of resentment against my children, and no child deserves to have their parent resent them.
- The idea of breast feeding is deeply disturbing to me.
- The world is going south. I find society frustrating today, and don't see it getting any better in the future. When the future brings up images of Idiocracy and Wall-E, who in the heck would want to bring a child into it??
- Plastic surgery is expensive. If some creature is going to ruin my body... I'd like to have it fixed.
- I'm a size 9 1/2 shoe... after having a baby... I'd probably be a size 10 1/2, and no one will carry my shoe size.
- Raising a kid costs a ton! I just used a baby cost calculator... and my baby will cost me at least $426,000 to raise. AT LEAST! (Knowing my hypothetical children... it will be over a million.) Perhaps I should just take that money and save it, so that I can live in an elite retirement home. It's actually a better bet for making sure I'm taken care of when I get older.
- Cort plans on having kids. They should be more than adequate for me to get my kid "fix" whenever I'm feeling maternal.
- I just don't want kids. Okay? Leave me alone.
Now, all that said... I'm pretty sure I'll change my mind when I hit thirty. All 30-year-old women seem to have some sort of hormonal shift that causes them to go ape-shit for babies. I can only hope that I will be strong enough to fight it. (Or that a caring friend will shove me down the stairs if I try and have a baby.)
Love,
Katie
30 November 2009
23 November 2009
Facebook groups...
I realized two things this morning. One, I had completely forgotten about the fact that I am in a handful of facebook groups. Two, I had forgotten about one particular facebook group that really sums me up as a person... at least part of me. The facebook group?
I LIKE CUPCAKES AND MAKING OUT.
I do like cupcakes and making out!!!! Given the right frosting in one case, and proper technique in the other, cupcakes and making out qualify as two of my favorite things on earth.
I don't believe my feelings warrant explanation... so I won't ramble on about it. I will, however, make a list horrible making-out techniques that have successfully ruined the moment. Shame on you (unnamed) boys for screwing up one of my favorite past-times!!
- The Dog Lick: Tongue motion resembles slowly licking the bottom of a bowl. It kinda makes you feel like they're trying to clean out your mouth.
- The Tilt-a-Whirl: Hold mouth open while having the tongue circle clockwise, and then counter-clockwise. This feels like a horrible wrestling match in which neither tongue is going to win, rather both are going to get dizzy while your jaw locks from lack of motion.
- The Bat Cave: This technique has all the makings of a good sesh... except something's missing: TONGUE!! Reach as far as you may into the abyss, you will never make contact. Don't be fooled by what appears to be a tongue when they speak, it is merely a mirage, it will disappear immediately upon return to kissing.
- The Sea Anemone: Have you ever felt as if your special friend has decided to wrap your mouth up in theirs? I like the secure feeling of being wrapped in a blanket... but that is most certainly where it ends... especially since blankets don't leave a ring of saliva around my mouth. Good tongue or not... I can promise you have ruined the moment.
- The Slow-Mo or the Cotton-Eye'd-Joe: The first one is obvious, the second is its vodka-redbull fueled cousin. Too slow and I'm thinking about what TV shows I have lined up on my computer for after this, too fast and I feel like I'm playing tonsil dodge-ball. Why don't people understand the importance of variety and a thorough understanding of one's speed-to-skill ratio?
There are more, as I'm sure you've all experienced, but I came to the realization that having a full list might frighten my male readers. Boys: don't worry! In my experience, about 1/3 of the guys I make out with have it down to a science... hence why it's one of my favorite extracurricular activities. If you're afraid you might be party pooper when it comes to snogging... just ask. You'll be glad you did! (Along with all future special friends.)
Love,
Katie
I LIKE CUPCAKES AND MAKING OUT.
I do like cupcakes and making out!!!! Given the right frosting in one case, and proper technique in the other, cupcakes and making out qualify as two of my favorite things on earth.
I don't believe my feelings warrant explanation... so I won't ramble on about it. I will, however, make a list horrible making-out techniques that have successfully ruined the moment. Shame on you (unnamed) boys for screwing up one of my favorite past-times!!
- The Dog Lick: Tongue motion resembles slowly licking the bottom of a bowl. It kinda makes you feel like they're trying to clean out your mouth.
- The Tilt-a-Whirl: Hold mouth open while having the tongue circle clockwise, and then counter-clockwise. This feels like a horrible wrestling match in which neither tongue is going to win, rather both are going to get dizzy while your jaw locks from lack of motion.
- The Bat Cave: This technique has all the makings of a good sesh... except something's missing: TONGUE!! Reach as far as you may into the abyss, you will never make contact. Don't be fooled by what appears to be a tongue when they speak, it is merely a mirage, it will disappear immediately upon return to kissing.
- The Sea Anemone: Have you ever felt as if your special friend has decided to wrap your mouth up in theirs? I like the secure feeling of being wrapped in a blanket... but that is most certainly where it ends... especially since blankets don't leave a ring of saliva around my mouth. Good tongue or not... I can promise you have ruined the moment.
- The Slow-Mo or the Cotton-Eye'd-Joe: The first one is obvious, the second is its vodka-redbull fueled cousin. Too slow and I'm thinking about what TV shows I have lined up on my computer for after this, too fast and I feel like I'm playing tonsil dodge-ball. Why don't people understand the importance of variety and a thorough understanding of one's speed-to-skill ratio?
There are more, as I'm sure you've all experienced, but I came to the realization that having a full list might frighten my male readers. Boys: don't worry! In my experience, about 1/3 of the guys I make out with have it down to a science... hence why it's one of my favorite extracurricular activities. If you're afraid you might be party pooper when it comes to snogging... just ask. You'll be glad you did! (Along with all future special friends.)
Love,
Katie
20 November 2009
Be careful... just... be careful
I asked for work, due to the crabbiness that resulted from 2 days of no assignments... I now have 8 projects to work on for Monday.
Then...
I offered up some crazy-ass ideas for some radio spots for one of our clients... I then was asked to type up the dialogues... what were my ideas? A Certified Angus Beef personal ad... A dog asking his owner to share the wealth, since he got such great discounts on his groceries... and the unexpected chef: A football player with a passion for cuisine. I HATE MYSELF.
Love,
Katie
Then...
I offered up some crazy-ass ideas for some radio spots for one of our clients... I then was asked to type up the dialogues... what were my ideas? A Certified Angus Beef personal ad... A dog asking his owner to share the wealth, since he got such great discounts on his groceries... and the unexpected chef: A football player with a passion for cuisine. I HATE MYSELF.
Love,
Katie
Handicap??
While texting, blogging, and iming this week, I came to a realization. I would be so much funnier if everyone would allow me a 5 second handicap... If only life were like "Shaq v." and everyone was willing to give me enough time to rival their wit!!
Love,
Katie
Love,
Katie
19 November 2009
Textastic...
So, today I needed to tell a friend where to pick me up. We have a kickball game tonight at 7:30... 5 hours from now... and this is what transpired:
Katie: Btw... I live at _______. Just let me know when you want me to be ready to go.
Anonymous: Be ready in ten minutes. We're getting there a little early today.
K: I'm on it!!! Let me just step into the nearest telephone booth...
A: To the bat cave! Practice makes ass whoopins
K: Way to mix n' match graphic novel heroes... In your scenario, would I have to be robin?? I'd much prefer to be alfred pennyworth. He oozes class.
A: I'm Morgan Freeman
K: Okay... You're jumping all over the place. Morgan Freeman, mythical though he may be, is not a character, but rather an actor. If we're just being anyone... I'm Buddha.
A: Morgan Freeman in Batman. Mr. Fox, I think?
K: Well... Then you should have imdb'd that first, and been more accurate. I will remain buddha despite his absence in any part of the batman franchise.
A: His presence is felt everywhere
K: That it is... Just as my presence is felt everywhere. I've been told it has a calming affect, no?
A: Like herbal tea
K: Brilliant
A: And I'm Richard Thomas
K: Oh my god... John-Boy??!! All the sudden Buddha doesn't seem nearly as awesome
A: Richard Thomas the founder of Bojangles
K: Same name... I personally prefer John-Boy from the Waltons
A: yeah, he's cool, but he didn't create the tastiest, fluffiest, butteriest, most beautiful biscuits on the face of the earth
... and the convo is still going. Does anyone else think this turned out as awesome as I do??
Love,
Katie
Katie: Btw... I live at _______. Just let me know when you want me to be ready to go.
Anonymous: Be ready in ten minutes. We're getting there a little early today.
K: I'm on it!!! Let me just step into the nearest telephone booth...
A: To the bat cave! Practice makes ass whoopins
K: Way to mix n' match graphic novel heroes... In your scenario, would I have to be robin?? I'd much prefer to be alfred pennyworth. He oozes class.
A: I'm Morgan Freeman
K: Okay... You're jumping all over the place. Morgan Freeman, mythical though he may be, is not a character, but rather an actor. If we're just being anyone... I'm Buddha.
A: Morgan Freeman in Batman. Mr. Fox, I think?
K: Well... Then you should have imdb'd that first, and been more accurate. I will remain buddha despite his absence in any part of the batman franchise.
A: His presence is felt everywhere
K: That it is... Just as my presence is felt everywhere. I've been told it has a calming affect, no?
A: Like herbal tea
K: Brilliant
A: And I'm Richard Thomas
K: Oh my god... John-Boy??!! All the sudden Buddha doesn't seem nearly as awesome
A: Richard Thomas the founder of Bojangles
K: Same name... I personally prefer John-Boy from the Waltons
A: yeah, he's cool, but he didn't create the tastiest, fluffiest, butteriest, most beautiful biscuits on the face of the earth
... and the convo is still going. Does anyone else think this turned out as awesome as I do??
Love,
Katie
BEST COMPLIMENT EVER!!!!
Today Genna told me that if I were a cupcake, this is the kind of cupcake I would be:
This is by far and away one of the best compliments I've gotten in a long time. I LOVE IT!!
Love,
Rainbow Cupcake with Sprinkles
On a Cheerier Note...
Watch this interview of Michael Bublé... if you're a guy, just cue it up to 7:10. Make sure you're not in hearing range of anyone, because you'll probably laugh out loud.
LOVE Michael Bublé
OR!
Watch this adorable otter play for 5 minutes. (Thanks for sharing, Kelley!!)
ADORABLE!!!!!!!
Your Welcome,
Katie
LOVE Michael Bublé
OR!
Watch this adorable otter play for 5 minutes. (Thanks for sharing, Kelley!!)
ADORABLE!!!!!!!
Your Welcome,
Katie
Political Leaders Can Kiss My Ass!!!!
Today's post will have a bit of a different tone than most. A few days ago, I read about how politicians have been suggesting that mammograms only become routine after age 50, in order to decrease spending with the pending Health Care bill. Now, I don't normally get political, because I feel like most of the time I don't know what the heck I'm talking about, but today I do, and so I'm going to.
I'M PISSED. Why? Because my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 47. If the starting age of screening had been 50, my mother's breast cancer would have had 3 years to progress before being caught. At that point, it is highly likely that it would have metastasized to other areas in her body, even given the fact that her cancer was slow-growing. Once cancer spreads, treatment becomes much more difficult, invasive, and likely to fail. Heck, any tween that watches Grey's Anatomy now knows the dangers of letting cancer progress by now.
Now, I'm all for cutting government spending on the whole, but this is taking money from the wrong place. Everyone knows that one of the biggest drains of federal funding is the rampant inefficiency of our political system. Every bill has tons of amendments tacked on, just to ensure that it passes. Politicians spend millions of dollars on campaigns, rather than productively using funding from private and public sources. And we have no idea where and how money gets spent amongst government employees, but barely any of it seems to be making it to the lower-most rungs.
And yet, where do they think they should cut expense?? MAMMOGRAMS!!! How can anyone be so callus? So willing to ignore any and every piece of research that has shown the benefit of early screening? Crossing your fingers that victims of breast cancer under the age of 50 will be able to find the tumor via self-examination in time is absolutely heartless. I'm utterly ashamed of anyone who supported this measure.
Apparently, I've picked my battle.
Love,
Katie
I'M PISSED. Why? Because my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 47. If the starting age of screening had been 50, my mother's breast cancer would have had 3 years to progress before being caught. At that point, it is highly likely that it would have metastasized to other areas in her body, even given the fact that her cancer was slow-growing. Once cancer spreads, treatment becomes much more difficult, invasive, and likely to fail. Heck, any tween that watches Grey's Anatomy now knows the dangers of letting cancer progress by now.
Now, I'm all for cutting government spending on the whole, but this is taking money from the wrong place. Everyone knows that one of the biggest drains of federal funding is the rampant inefficiency of our political system. Every bill has tons of amendments tacked on, just to ensure that it passes. Politicians spend millions of dollars on campaigns, rather than productively using funding from private and public sources. And we have no idea where and how money gets spent amongst government employees, but barely any of it seems to be making it to the lower-most rungs.
And yet, where do they think they should cut expense?? MAMMOGRAMS!!! How can anyone be so callus? So willing to ignore any and every piece of research that has shown the benefit of early screening? Crossing your fingers that victims of breast cancer under the age of 50 will be able to find the tumor via self-examination in time is absolutely heartless. I'm utterly ashamed of anyone who supported this measure.
Apparently, I've picked my battle.
Love,
Katie
18 November 2009
Money, Money, Money...
Today I did absolutely nothing I set out to do. However, I did make $50 off of some earrings that I made last night during my I-know-I'm-an-intern-but-that-doesn't-mean-you-can-just-leave-me-sitting-on-my-ass-all-day-doing-nothing rage.
Day well spent? Why, yes!
I will spend the rest of the time that I should be taking to write this blog post to listen to "Money, Money, Money" by ABBA. I encourage you to do the same. Or don't... since that apparently works too.
Love,
Katie
P.S. Maddie, if you have gotten over feeling embarrassed for me while reading my blog and have come back into the fold, I hope you're saying "Money, Money, Money" in that creepy drunken voice you do so well. I know I wasn't there the first time... but I feel like I was.
Day well spent? Why, yes!
I will spend the rest of the time that I should be taking to write this blog post to listen to "Money, Money, Money" by ABBA. I encourage you to do the same. Or don't... since that apparently works too.
Love,
Katie
P.S. Maddie, if you have gotten over feeling embarrassed for me while reading my blog and have come back into the fold, I hope you're saying "Money, Money, Money" in that creepy drunken voice you do so well. I know I wasn't there the first time... but I feel like I was.
17 November 2009
Ninja Intern!!
Let me first say that I am an excellent employee... when I'm given work. As an intern, sometimes people forget that I have nothing to do unless they give me an assignment. In those periods of time, I have to be creative and secretly find ways to entertain myself. Here's a list of a few things I've done in the office without anyone noticing...
- Place ebay bids, spend an hour shopping for shoes, hunt etsy for the best priced jewelry supplies
- Watch an episode of "So You Think You Can Dance" (1 hr 40 min)
- Write every blog post I've ever written.
- Download and Listen to the entire Glee soundtrack, complete with humming and whispered singing
- Read 200 MLIA posts while copying and pasting almost all of them into a conversation with Kelley
- Dismantle a portion of my desk with a screwdriver (in a dress and 4" heels...)
- Stare at the broken copying machine for 15 minutes
- Laugh out loud (including a snort) without a single twitch from anyone in the office
- Die inside at the site of a nameless superior's playboy magazine. (I know this isn't exactly something that people would notice... but I really need other people to share in my horror. Who get's playboy delivered to an office full of women? A creeper... that's who.)
- Fall asleep... I remained seated and apparently looked like I was working on my laptop. (I know this because I asked Joni if anyone noticed.)
- Leave. I have actually gotten up and left the office without anyone noticing.
Now that I've figured out that I can get away with a fair amount of tomfoolery... I kinda want to push the boundaries. I need ideas of things to do!! Bradley told me to poop in a cup, but that really wasn't constructive. I know you can be constructive.
Love,
Katie
- Place ebay bids, spend an hour shopping for shoes, hunt etsy for the best priced jewelry supplies
- Watch an episode of "So You Think You Can Dance" (1 hr 40 min)
- Write every blog post I've ever written.
- Download and Listen to the entire Glee soundtrack, complete with humming and whispered singing
- Read 200 MLIA posts while copying and pasting almost all of them into a conversation with Kelley
- Dismantle a portion of my desk with a screwdriver (in a dress and 4" heels...)
- Stare at the broken copying machine for 15 minutes
- Laugh out loud (including a snort) without a single twitch from anyone in the office
- Die inside at the site of a nameless superior's playboy magazine. (I know this isn't exactly something that people would notice... but I really need other people to share in my horror. Who get's playboy delivered to an office full of women? A creeper... that's who.)
- Fall asleep... I remained seated and apparently looked like I was working on my laptop. (I know this because I asked Joni if anyone noticed.)
- Leave. I have actually gotten up and left the office without anyone noticing.
Now that I've figured out that I can get away with a fair amount of tomfoolery... I kinda want to push the boundaries. I need ideas of things to do!! Bradley told me to poop in a cup, but that really wasn't constructive. I know you can be constructive.
Love,
Katie
Psychosomatic , addict, insane!
Like the Prodigy shout out?? When I decided to write this point, their song 'breathe' immediately popped into my head. Luckily it only refers to adjective #1 in the title.
So, there's a little factoid about me that has been becoming more well known as time goes on, and I thought I'd just broadcast it. I have a physical reaction to violence. I'm fine with violence on a screen, I've watched surgeries, so it isn't the blood, and I tend to be a hitter... but that's where it ends. As it turns out, the second physical violence is live... even in the form of boxing or ultimate fighting on TV (although it's not as severe)... I get lightheaded and nauseous. This can result in throwing up, but usually I can get myself away from the situation fast enough to where I just need to sit for a few minutes to regain my strength.
There have been a few witnesses. My friends who traveled with me to Rome saw me nearly pass out over a love triangle spat before the first punch had even made contact. My friend Katie A. was in the car with me when a man got punched on the streets of San Francisco, and I had to quickly find a place to park. I nearly vomited on my computer one day when my brother showed me a clip of an especially gruesome UFC match on youtube. Most recently, Scott and a kickball dude almost got in a fight at a local bar, and I had to excuse myself from the round of flip cup (don't worry, I finished my turn) and run outside in case the argument came to blows. It happens without fail, and I have no idea why.
Anyone else wonder how this might have come about? I was trying to think if maybe I would have an evolutionary advantage in some sort of catastrophic event, and I then realized there's no direct positive outcome of my weak stomach. If I fully passed out, maybe it would be like possums or the fainting goats, which pretend like they're dead when something scares them. For the most part, however, I just feel like I need to put my head between my legs and take deep breaths, so that doesn't do anything for me. Vomiting doesn't exactly scare away predators, especially since the normal vomiting process (if I may be so bold as to generalize) includes retching a few times first. That gives ample time for someone to take me down before I would actually puke and potentially freak them out.
So, here's what I've decided. My psychosomatic response to violence is actually an advantageous cultural adaptation. (Huh? Stick with me...) My "condition" has a very positive social impact, which benefits me indirectly. First, my friends know not to get in a fight around me, lest they want me to puke. This means violence never happens in my immediate group of friends, and that I can at least expect one degree of separation between me and the brawlers. Second, if my friends and I happen to be near a fight, the scene that I cause almost immediately pulls us away from where the action really lies. This is a much better scenario than just making our way past the punches... hooray safety! Third, hypothetically, if I were near you while you were fighting, and I couldn't get away, so I puked right in front of you... wouldn't you stop fighting out of disgust/intrigue/distraction? I believe you would... and in that case I would have simultaneously saved the day and my ass. So, really, this "condition" is brilliant... right? Right.
There is one thing I must beg of you all, before I finish this post. Now that you know, I ask that you please be sensitive with this information. Don't punch someone in the face just to see me puke. It's not nice to your friend or me, and I will try and aim... so you'll be just as upset in the end.
Love,
Katie
So, there's a little factoid about me that has been becoming more well known as time goes on, and I thought I'd just broadcast it. I have a physical reaction to violence. I'm fine with violence on a screen, I've watched surgeries, so it isn't the blood, and I tend to be a hitter... but that's where it ends. As it turns out, the second physical violence is live... even in the form of boxing or ultimate fighting on TV (although it's not as severe)... I get lightheaded and nauseous. This can result in throwing up, but usually I can get myself away from the situation fast enough to where I just need to sit for a few minutes to regain my strength.
There have been a few witnesses. My friends who traveled with me to Rome saw me nearly pass out over a love triangle spat before the first punch had even made contact. My friend Katie A. was in the car with me when a man got punched on the streets of San Francisco, and I had to quickly find a place to park. I nearly vomited on my computer one day when my brother showed me a clip of an especially gruesome UFC match on youtube. Most recently, Scott and a kickball dude almost got in a fight at a local bar, and I had to excuse myself from the round of flip cup (don't worry, I finished my turn) and run outside in case the argument came to blows. It happens without fail, and I have no idea why.
Anyone else wonder how this might have come about? I was trying to think if maybe I would have an evolutionary advantage in some sort of catastrophic event, and I then realized there's no direct positive outcome of my weak stomach. If I fully passed out, maybe it would be like possums or the fainting goats, which pretend like they're dead when something scares them. For the most part, however, I just feel like I need to put my head between my legs and take deep breaths, so that doesn't do anything for me. Vomiting doesn't exactly scare away predators, especially since the normal vomiting process (if I may be so bold as to generalize) includes retching a few times first. That gives ample time for someone to take me down before I would actually puke and potentially freak them out.
So, here's what I've decided. My psychosomatic response to violence is actually an advantageous cultural adaptation. (Huh? Stick with me...) My "condition" has a very positive social impact, which benefits me indirectly. First, my friends know not to get in a fight around me, lest they want me to puke. This means violence never happens in my immediate group of friends, and that I can at least expect one degree of separation between me and the brawlers. Second, if my friends and I happen to be near a fight, the scene that I cause almost immediately pulls us away from where the action really lies. This is a much better scenario than just making our way past the punches... hooray safety! Third, hypothetically, if I were near you while you were fighting, and I couldn't get away, so I puked right in front of you... wouldn't you stop fighting out of disgust/intrigue/distraction? I believe you would... and in that case I would have simultaneously saved the day and my ass. So, really, this "condition" is brilliant... right? Right.
There is one thing I must beg of you all, before I finish this post. Now that you know, I ask that you please be sensitive with this information. Don't punch someone in the face just to see me puke. It's not nice to your friend or me, and I will try and aim... so you'll be just as upset in the end.
Love,
Katie
16 November 2009
#1 My New Barry White
So, two things have inspired this post. One happened to be when I played this singer/songwriter for a friend on Friday night, and the other is just essentially my never-ending quest for the right music to play in any given situation.
First, let's talk about Barry. Given that he's been "sexy music" since the time I was born, Barry White has always creeped me out a wee. I don't want a tall, fat man with a crazy low voice speak-singing about "love making." I'm actually getting shivers right now just thinking of it.
Anyhoodle, I started trying to think of the musician that could fill the gaping hole that Barry White's creep-factor has left behind, and there was only one man that could fill it. (That's what she said.)
JASON MRAZ!!!
Alright... have you stopped laughing at me yet?? K... let's discuss. At first, Jason Mraz seems like a horrible idea for a Barry White replacement... but let's think about his songs. What are they? Thinly veiled discussions of the whole gamut of sexual experiences via metaphor, complete with catchy refrains. While Barry White tries to soothingly tell you about how he's going to touch you (like a pedophile), Jason Mraz tells it like it is. He wants it, wants it bad, and he tells you exactly how he wants it and what he's going to do to you. FANTASTIC!!!
Jason also has a good sense of humor about sex, which is key to any sort of encounter with a special someone, or the guy you met 20 minutes ago. (One of my favorite make-out sessions included me blowing into the guys mouth, and having his cheeks puff out like a puffer fish. He didn't enjoy it, until he realized that he could do it back to me, and we dissolved into a fit of giggles.) Finished a bit to early? There's a song for that. Left alone to your own devices? There's a song for that, too. He can be customized to fit your needs.
I also happen to believe his song "Butterfly" inspired an artist at the exhibit I went to on Friday... resulting in a vagina complete with wings and antennae. Although, technically, I believe the artist was mistaken. (So artist... fyi... Jason Mraz was calling the vagina a butterfly... he wasn't saying that the girl he was with somehow had some sort of hybrid genitals. Okay? Okay.) I'm going to take this as evidence of the fact that Jason Mraz is deep. Deep enough to merit using him as background noise during your precious moments.
Who is your new Barry White??
Love,
Katie
P.S. It's okay that you all have decided to comment on my posts by writing on my facebook wall or texting me. I feel the love... I just also feel like others would benefit from your hilarity.
First, let's talk about Barry. Given that he's been "sexy music" since the time I was born, Barry White has always creeped me out a wee. I don't want a tall, fat man with a crazy low voice speak-singing about "love making." I'm actually getting shivers right now just thinking of it.
Anyhoodle, I started trying to think of the musician that could fill the gaping hole that Barry White's creep-factor has left behind, and there was only one man that could fill it. (That's what she said.)
JASON MRAZ!!!
Alright... have you stopped laughing at me yet?? K... let's discuss. At first, Jason Mraz seems like a horrible idea for a Barry White replacement... but let's think about his songs. What are they? Thinly veiled discussions of the whole gamut of sexual experiences via metaphor, complete with catchy refrains. While Barry White tries to soothingly tell you about how he's going to touch you (like a pedophile), Jason Mraz tells it like it is. He wants it, wants it bad, and he tells you exactly how he wants it and what he's going to do to you. FANTASTIC!!!
Jason also has a good sense of humor about sex, which is key to any sort of encounter with a special someone, or the guy you met 20 minutes ago. (One of my favorite make-out sessions included me blowing into the guys mouth, and having his cheeks puff out like a puffer fish. He didn't enjoy it, until he realized that he could do it back to me, and we dissolved into a fit of giggles.) Finished a bit to early? There's a song for that. Left alone to your own devices? There's a song for that, too. He can be customized to fit your needs.
I also happen to believe his song "Butterfly" inspired an artist at the exhibit I went to on Friday... resulting in a vagina complete with wings and antennae. Although, technically, I believe the artist was mistaken. (So artist... fyi... Jason Mraz was calling the vagina a butterfly... he wasn't saying that the girl he was with somehow had some sort of hybrid genitals. Okay? Okay.) I'm going to take this as evidence of the fact that Jason Mraz is deep. Deep enough to merit using him as background noise during your precious moments.
Who is your new Barry White??
Love,
Katie
P.S. It's okay that you all have decided to comment on my posts by writing on my facebook wall or texting me. I feel the love... I just also feel like others would benefit from your hilarity.
#2 Song Discoveries
This morning while in my spinning class, my instructor informed us that he would be playing a song that he used to think was a love song back in 1989. (I chuckled silently... because I was 3-years-old at the time... and apparently I find humor in the fact that other people are old.) So, we're pedaling along, and finally he says: "Are you ready for this?" It was Guns N' Roses (forgive me for not knowing which one... it was 6 am.)
Anyway, this got me thinking about all the songs that I used to listen to in the past that just really weren't what I thought they were. (In the past few minutes I decided to just do misunderstood songs... love song or not.) So, I've decided to compile a list... let's see if I can get 10.
1) Too Close by Next. I didn't know the title... so I assumed they were saying "Baby when we're crying, I get so excited." I remember struggling for quite some time over why he was so excited about crying, and eventually decided it was because they were crying about something wonderful. I think it's important I copy some lyrics, so that you can see just how delusional I was at 12:
I wonder if she could tell I'm hard right now, hmmm
Yeah, come on, dance for me baby, ha ha, yeah
Oh, oh, you feel that? Alright
Come on, don't stop now
You done did it, come on, uh, yeah, alright, hold on
Baby when we're grinding
I get so excited
Ooh, how I like it
I try but I can't fight it
Oh, your dancing real close
Plus it's real real slow
(You know what you're doing, don't you)
You're making it hard for me
2. Crash Into Me by Dave Matthews Band. At the time I first heard it, I thought it was a song about some sort of cops and robbers scenario between a guy and a girl. Which, in my defense, is kind of right... but the intent behind the game is just a wee bit different.
3. Under the Bridge by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Turns out I got this one wrong... twice. Bradley read my post right after I finished it, and told me I had it wrong, again. This song is about heroin addiction. I've got it now.
4. Puff the Magic Dragon. We've all come to this realization, for some of us it was a joyous occassion, and for some of us it was heartbreaking. I'm still conflicted as to how I feel.
5. Neon by John Mayer. She's alway buzzing just like Neon? Why, what a vibrant, energetic young lady!
6. Papa, no Pega la Mama by The Gipsy Kings. This song was ruined by my desire to be trilingual. WTF Gipsy Kings??!! Why put a song about a boy begging his father to stop beating his mom to such a catchy salsa beat??!!
7. Roxanne by The Police. This is by far the most embarassingly recent discovery, and I WATCHED MOULIN ROUGE!! Feel free to taunt me, but I'm a little proud of the fact that I didn't immediately think of prostitution. There might be a shred of innocence left in me.
8. Peaches & Cream by 112. Why can't someone just like their fruit with a little cream?
9. Janie's Got a Gun by Aerosmith. I blame this on mumbling. I figured Janie had a gun, I just wasn't clear on what exactly she was doing with it. Okay?
10. Oops, Oh My by Tweet. I am horrified for the younger version of me that dance provocatively to this song at school dances. HORRIFIED!!
Hey! I got 10! That was easier than I thought... which makes it even worse, really.
Love,
Katie
Anyway, this got me thinking about all the songs that I used to listen to in the past that just really weren't what I thought they were. (In the past few minutes I decided to just do misunderstood songs... love song or not.) So, I've decided to compile a list... let's see if I can get 10.
1) Too Close by Next. I didn't know the title... so I assumed they were saying "Baby when we're crying, I get so excited." I remember struggling for quite some time over why he was so excited about crying, and eventually decided it was because they were crying about something wonderful. I think it's important I copy some lyrics, so that you can see just how delusional I was at 12:
I wonder if she could tell I'm hard right now, hmmm
Yeah, come on, dance for me baby, ha ha, yeah
Oh, oh, you feel that? Alright
Come on, don't stop now
You done did it, come on, uh, yeah, alright, hold on
Baby when we're grinding
I get so excited
Ooh, how I like it
I try but I can't fight it
Oh, your dancing real close
Plus it's real real slow
(You know what you're doing, don't you)
You're making it hard for me
2. Crash Into Me by Dave Matthews Band. At the time I first heard it, I thought it was a song about some sort of cops and robbers scenario between a guy and a girl. Which, in my defense, is kind of right... but the intent behind the game is just a wee bit different.
3. Under the Bridge by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Turns out I got this one wrong... twice. Bradley read my post right after I finished it, and told me I had it wrong, again. This song is about heroin addiction. I've got it now.
4. Puff the Magic Dragon. We've all come to this realization, for some of us it was a joyous occassion, and for some of us it was heartbreaking. I'm still conflicted as to how I feel.
5. Neon by John Mayer. She's alway buzzing just like Neon? Why, what a vibrant, energetic young lady!
6. Papa, no Pega la Mama by The Gipsy Kings. This song was ruined by my desire to be trilingual. WTF Gipsy Kings??!! Why put a song about a boy begging his father to stop beating his mom to such a catchy salsa beat??!!
7. Roxanne by The Police. This is by far the most embarassingly recent discovery, and I WATCHED MOULIN ROUGE!! Feel free to taunt me, but I'm a little proud of the fact that I didn't immediately think of prostitution. There might be a shred of innocence left in me.
8. Peaches & Cream by 112. Why can't someone just like their fruit with a little cream?
9. Janie's Got a Gun by Aerosmith. I blame this on mumbling. I figured Janie had a gun, I just wasn't clear on what exactly she was doing with it. Okay?
10. Oops, Oh My by Tweet. I am horrified for the younger version of me that dance provocatively to this song at school dances. HORRIFIED!!
Hey! I got 10! That was easier than I thought... which makes it even worse, really.
Love,
Katie
#3 Letter to an Unsuspecting Human Being
Dear Genuis Bar Dude (a.k.a. Casey),
First of all, have you managed to fix my computer? I would really appreciate if one of two things happened: Either, that my computer is really fine and you've managed to get me a battery that won't burn my legs after the computer's been on for 5 minutes. Or, that everything about my computer is hopeless, despite the fact that my hard drive is completely intact and salvageable, and that there is no other option than for you to give me a free computer, or for my father to buy me a new one. (Happy Birthday to me!!)
Now that we have that out of the way, let's move on to more pressing matters. You're cute! Don't think I didn't notice how quickly you corrected yourself when talking about your girlfriend, you mean ex-girlfriend. It was a not-so-subtle way of letting me know that you're single and ready to mingle that I truly appreciated. The other genius bar dude tried to say that he'd noticed me in the store a few times... but you knew better. You sang along to the Stevie Wonder song playing in the store, and although you weren't in the right key... it was still adorable enough to get me on your side with the ensuing epic battle of wits between you two. Remember how I insulted him two ways in one sentence? He said I wasn't funny, but you rebutted with the fact that you thought I was hilarious.(No... you're hilarious!)
I hope I was funny enough to keep your mind of the fact that my computer was not backed up, my apple care had expired, and my aluminum case was covered in dings. I figure I was, because you told me that as long as none of the damage was due to my clumsiness, you wouldn't charge me. That, or you liked my V-neck shirt.
Lastly, thank you for letting me know that your "wedding ring" was a fake designed to keep away the genius bar groupies. Obviously my thinly veiled attempt at flirtation was not deemed creepy. One piece of advice though, for those unwelcome flirtationists (flirts + exhibitionists), I really think you should get a different ring, seeing as yours was adjustable and made of steel. I'm just saying...
Love, Katie
P.S. This letter just reminded me of the "Missed Connections" on Craigslist... both in content, and in the fact that after reading through it, I felt pity for the overexaggerated version of myself. Letter FAIL.
First of all, have you managed to fix my computer? I would really appreciate if one of two things happened: Either, that my computer is really fine and you've managed to get me a battery that won't burn my legs after the computer's been on for 5 minutes. Or, that everything about my computer is hopeless, despite the fact that my hard drive is completely intact and salvageable, and that there is no other option than for you to give me a free computer, or for my father to buy me a new one. (Happy Birthday to me!!)
Now that we have that out of the way, let's move on to more pressing matters. You're cute! Don't think I didn't notice how quickly you corrected yourself when talking about your girlfriend, you mean ex-girlfriend. It was a not-so-subtle way of letting me know that you're single and ready to mingle that I truly appreciated. The other genius bar dude tried to say that he'd noticed me in the store a few times... but you knew better. You sang along to the Stevie Wonder song playing in the store, and although you weren't in the right key... it was still adorable enough to get me on your side with the ensuing epic battle of wits between you two. Remember how I insulted him two ways in one sentence? He said I wasn't funny, but you rebutted with the fact that you thought I was hilarious.(No... you're hilarious!)
I hope I was funny enough to keep your mind of the fact that my computer was not backed up, my apple care had expired, and my aluminum case was covered in dings. I figure I was, because you told me that as long as none of the damage was due to my clumsiness, you wouldn't charge me. That, or you liked my V-neck shirt.
Lastly, thank you for letting me know that your "wedding ring" was a fake designed to keep away the genius bar groupies. Obviously my thinly veiled attempt at flirtation was not deemed creepy. One piece of advice though, for those unwelcome flirtationists (flirts + exhibitionists), I really think you should get a different ring, seeing as yours was adjustable and made of steel. I'm just saying...
Love, Katie
P.S. This letter just reminded me of the "Missed Connections" on Craigslist... both in content, and in the fact that after reading through it, I felt pity for the overexaggerated version of myself. Letter FAIL.
Which path to follow??
Today I came up with 3 possible topics...
1) The New Barry White - what you should be playing while making sweet, sweet love.
2) Songs you thought were love songs until you got old enough to understand the lyrics.
3) Another letter to someone who doesn't know I was paying that much attention to them.
I can't choose... so I'll write them all. Hopefully I'll be able to come up with more ideas tomorrow, otherwise I'll wish I had saved them. (I apparently treat blog posts like candy... when it's there, I just can't say no.)
So... on to post #3. (I'll do them in reverse order so that the #'s show up right in the blog.)
1) The New Barry White - what you should be playing while making sweet, sweet love.
2) Songs you thought were love songs until you got old enough to understand the lyrics.
3) Another letter to someone who doesn't know I was paying that much attention to them.
I can't choose... so I'll write them all. Hopefully I'll be able to come up with more ideas tomorrow, otherwise I'll wish I had saved them. (I apparently treat blog posts like candy... when it's there, I just can't say no.)
So... on to post #3. (I'll do them in reverse order so that the #'s show up right in the blog.)
13 November 2009
Bad day blues...
So this morning my alarm went off at 6am. Normally that's when I toss on gym clothes and head out the door, but I was exhausted, so I did what any normal person would do. I texted my dad, who was on the other side of the wall from me: "SLEEP," and went back to bed. (Joni says this is proof that communication is dead. I say it's an ingenious way to make sure that I remain minimally conscious, so as to better fall back asleep.)
Anyway, in my state, I remembered to text my dad but forgot to reset the alarm. "Fear not!" you would think. My dad would be back from the gym around 7:00, my mom would inevitably be awake, and they would notice that I wasn't present in the day's morning rituals, right? No, of course not. I awoke to a knock on my door at 8:30, and my dad saying: "Hey, aren't you supposed to be at the office right now?" CURSES!!! I made it to work by 9:05, which is impressive... but ever since then I've been thinking about the scene that passed in the condo before my being awoken.
WHAT WERE MY PARENTS DOING??? Dad was working on the presentation he has to give today, which is understandable, but my mother has absolutely nothing that she needs to be doing. So, in this scenario... she wakes up at 6:00 when dad gets up, then falls back asleep once he's left. Next, she wakes up again when dad gets back at around 7:00, and gets up to make a latte. She makes her latte within 5 minutes of waking up, cooks up some oatmeal (another few minutes), and then what??? Sits around revelling in my absence until she realizes that I never skip breakfast, and that perhaps I should have been making my own oatmeal... say... an hour ago???!!! (Which reminds me... I've now skipped breakfast. The rest of my blog will be written while eating a Nature Valley bar... mmmm.... peanut butter is by far the best one in the variety pack.)
So anyway... the point is that I am now at the office with wet hair, no makeup except mascara, no earrings, and a horrible attempt at what could have been a cute outfit. I want to go home, I want to sleep, and I want to watch the Office (as well as the 10 million other TV shows I watch) on my computer while making jewelry. Anyone know how I can swing this??
Love,
Katie
P.S. Remind me to write an email about my psychosomatic reaction to violence. Those of you that don't know about it will think it's weird/funny, and those of you that have experienced it might enjoy reliving the moments.
Anyway, in my state, I remembered to text my dad but forgot to reset the alarm. "Fear not!" you would think. My dad would be back from the gym around 7:00, my mom would inevitably be awake, and they would notice that I wasn't present in the day's morning rituals, right? No, of course not. I awoke to a knock on my door at 8:30, and my dad saying: "Hey, aren't you supposed to be at the office right now?" CURSES!!! I made it to work by 9:05, which is impressive... but ever since then I've been thinking about the scene that passed in the condo before my being awoken.
WHAT WERE MY PARENTS DOING??? Dad was working on the presentation he has to give today, which is understandable, but my mother has absolutely nothing that she needs to be doing. So, in this scenario... she wakes up at 6:00 when dad gets up, then falls back asleep once he's left. Next, she wakes up again when dad gets back at around 7:00, and gets up to make a latte. She makes her latte within 5 minutes of waking up, cooks up some oatmeal (another few minutes), and then what??? Sits around revelling in my absence until she realizes that I never skip breakfast, and that perhaps I should have been making my own oatmeal... say... an hour ago???!!! (Which reminds me... I've now skipped breakfast. The rest of my blog will be written while eating a Nature Valley bar... mmmm.... peanut butter is by far the best one in the variety pack.)
So anyway... the point is that I am now at the office with wet hair, no makeup except mascara, no earrings, and a horrible attempt at what could have been a cute outfit. I want to go home, I want to sleep, and I want to watch the Office (as well as the 10 million other TV shows I watch) on my computer while making jewelry. Anyone know how I can swing this??
Love,
Katie
P.S. Remind me to write an email about my psychosomatic reaction to violence. Those of you that don't know about it will think it's weird/funny, and those of you that have experienced it might enjoy reliving the moments.
12 November 2009
Gorillas in the Mist...
This morning I was Sigourny Weaver making my way through the urban jungle that has artfully been sprayed with a fine mist. Upside: I didn't fall asleep on my bike? Downside: There were no gorillas, I was wearing a wool sweater dress, and I had actually taken the time to dry my hair this morning.
Why would a girl do such a thing to herself? I was attempting to avoid being driven to work by my mom... again. See, most of my time here in Charleston, I get to feel like I've got some amount of independence. My dad is rarely ever home, which unfortunately means I don't have access to a car, but also means that I get to pretend I can afford our swanky condo all by myself. I leave for work when I please, I come home from work when I please, and after work I get to be as lazy as I want to be. But that is definitely not the case when my mom is in town. She's always around.
Now, all would have been fine if my mom had stayed for the amount of time I had expected, but the morning she was supposed to leave, she extended her stay an extra week. I love my mother, I love seeing her and spending time with her, but I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR THIS! I like to know how long I need to be patient, how long I need to put my dishes away immediately after use, and how long I should expect to feel like I'm back in high school. That way I can spend my energy wisely. This change in plans, however, has left me no more patience to work with. I don't like it! I don't like it one bit!
So, when I saw that it wasn't pouring rain this morning, I had to make a tough decision. Get in my mother's rental car after waiting for her to get ready and then have to call her to pick me up later in the day (or walk, if it wasn't raining), OR ride my bike through the mist and deal with my screwed up appearance once I got to work?
So there I was, pedaling in the 50 degree weather, wearing a dress that kept flipping up and exposing my thighs to the water that was already hitting the rest of my body, and the first thing that came to mind was "Gorillas in the Mist." Best part, I can't remember anything about the movie itself, so I started making things up. The market was the headquarters for a secret drug cartel, the shops at Charleston place was an area of high Gorilla concentration (all angry and ready to steal my money from me in return for a Gucci purse), and Starbucks was our water tower... the sign that I had almost made it back to camp. I made it unscathed, just a little damp, and so as I put my bike away in the courtyard... there was a sense of pride in the 7 minute adventure I had just had. Katie: 1, Drug Cartel/Gorillas: 0.
Love,
Katie
P.S. There will be another video clip in which I will apparently have a speaking line. I'll post it when it becomes available!
Why would a girl do such a thing to herself? I was attempting to avoid being driven to work by my mom... again. See, most of my time here in Charleston, I get to feel like I've got some amount of independence. My dad is rarely ever home, which unfortunately means I don't have access to a car, but also means that I get to pretend I can afford our swanky condo all by myself. I leave for work when I please, I come home from work when I please, and after work I get to be as lazy as I want to be. But that is definitely not the case when my mom is in town. She's always around.
Now, all would have been fine if my mom had stayed for the amount of time I had expected, but the morning she was supposed to leave, she extended her stay an extra week. I love my mother, I love seeing her and spending time with her, but I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR THIS! I like to know how long I need to be patient, how long I need to put my dishes away immediately after use, and how long I should expect to feel like I'm back in high school. That way I can spend my energy wisely. This change in plans, however, has left me no more patience to work with. I don't like it! I don't like it one bit!
So, when I saw that it wasn't pouring rain this morning, I had to make a tough decision. Get in my mother's rental car after waiting for her to get ready and then have to call her to pick me up later in the day (or walk, if it wasn't raining), OR ride my bike through the mist and deal with my screwed up appearance once I got to work?
So there I was, pedaling in the 50 degree weather, wearing a dress that kept flipping up and exposing my thighs to the water that was already hitting the rest of my body, and the first thing that came to mind was "Gorillas in the Mist." Best part, I can't remember anything about the movie itself, so I started making things up. The market was the headquarters for a secret drug cartel, the shops at Charleston place was an area of high Gorilla concentration (all angry and ready to steal my money from me in return for a Gucci purse), and Starbucks was our water tower... the sign that I had almost made it back to camp. I made it unscathed, just a little damp, and so as I put my bike away in the courtyard... there was a sense of pride in the 7 minute adventure I had just had. Katie: 1, Drug Cartel/Gorillas: 0.
Love,
Katie
P.S. There will be another video clip in which I will apparently have a speaking line. I'll post it when it becomes available!
11 November 2009
Acting... FAIL
Piggly Wiggly
This link will take you to the viral video that I helped make with my company. I ran a few lines, sipped a few beers, and what resulted contains an incredibly blurred image of me in the very back at the end of the clip. I am apparently a horrible actor... right up there with Keanu Reeves in "Much Ado About Nothing." I've been cut, edited, squeezed out, blurred, and relegated to the metaphorical sidelines... and it would hurt more if I hadn't seen my personal takes. Having made it into the clip would have been MUCH more embarrassing...
This link will take you to the viral video that I helped make with my company. I ran a few lines, sipped a few beers, and what resulted contains an incredibly blurred image of me in the very back at the end of the clip. I am apparently a horrible actor... right up there with Keanu Reeves in "Much Ado About Nothing." I've been cut, edited, squeezed out, blurred, and relegated to the metaphorical sidelines... and it would hurt more if I hadn't seen my personal takes. Having made it into the clip would have been MUCH more embarrassing...
10 November 2009
My teeth have slippers...
I totally forgot to brush my teeth this morning. I was running late, it was raining, and I was trying to get my mom out of bed so I could get a ride to work... and so it just happened.
Now, a while ago I was told that it doesn't matter when you brush your teeth, just that you do it twice a day. So, HOORAY!!!! My teeth will live to see another day!!! Unfortunately, however, it does matter when you brush your teeth with respect to air quality... if you know what I mean...
So today I've been remaining at least 3 feet away from people at all times. In the one scenario in which someone came into my 3 foot bubble, I turned my head towards my computer to, "look at what they were talking about." It felt kind of like the time I had a huge zit in the middle of my forehead in middle school. The whole day I tried to make sure that the only thing people saw of me was my profile. (Try that out... it's practically impossible.) And... when I inevitably failed... I tried to tell people that a mosquito bit me while I was asleep. Best response of the day was: "Oh man, that sucks, 'cause it looks just like a zit!" Curses!!! How could my ingenious plan have failed??!!
The other thing that I did today to avoid offending people was to eat massive amounts of candy. I highly doubt that my chocolate goodies did much besides make the uncleanliness of my teeth worse... but what a fantastic excuse!!
Love,
Katie
P.S. I was reading through our idea box at work, and my mentor here wrote: "Make all of the interns dress up as pigs for staff meetings." I put it in his face and said: "Not funny... but it does mean I'd actually be allowed to attend staff meetings!!!" With that thought in mind, I drew a pig on the little slip of paper, and put it back in the idea box.
Now, a while ago I was told that it doesn't matter when you brush your teeth, just that you do it twice a day. So, HOORAY!!!! My teeth will live to see another day!!! Unfortunately, however, it does matter when you brush your teeth with respect to air quality... if you know what I mean...
So today I've been remaining at least 3 feet away from people at all times. In the one scenario in which someone came into my 3 foot bubble, I turned my head towards my computer to, "look at what they were talking about." It felt kind of like the time I had a huge zit in the middle of my forehead in middle school. The whole day I tried to make sure that the only thing people saw of me was my profile. (Try that out... it's practically impossible.) And... when I inevitably failed... I tried to tell people that a mosquito bit me while I was asleep. Best response of the day was: "Oh man, that sucks, 'cause it looks just like a zit!" Curses!!! How could my ingenious plan have failed??!!
The other thing that I did today to avoid offending people was to eat massive amounts of candy. I highly doubt that my chocolate goodies did much besides make the uncleanliness of my teeth worse... but what a fantastic excuse!!
Love,
Katie
P.S. I was reading through our idea box at work, and my mentor here wrote: "Make all of the interns dress up as pigs for staff meetings." I put it in his face and said: "Not funny... but it does mean I'd actually be allowed to attend staff meetings!!!" With that thought in mind, I drew a pig on the little slip of paper, and put it back in the idea box.
Tearing up at work...
Yesterday was Joni's first day back at the office. Joni was the first person I got to know here, and my second weekend in South Carolina we drove a total of 6 hours together for discount shoes. In other words... Joni and I are tight. We've got somewhere between one and two decades between us, but it would appear that fashion and frugality know no age.
So, last week was rough without my dear Joni. Her father passed away Tuesday from a long battle with cancer, and although I couldn't imagine her grief, I knew that there was really nothing I could say that would combine sympathy, hope, and support the way I wanted to. So, I tried to do what I wanted people to do the week of Ariel's passing. I cheerily told her that I was happy she was back, made a few jokes, and left her to turn to the people she wanted to turn to for help.
I did decide to make one gesture. See, Joni is a big M&M's fan... and we all know about the healing powers of chocolate (however ephemeral), so I bought Joni the largest bag of M&M's I could find during lunch. When I got back, I decorated the bag with a simple post-it note saying: "To make your first day back a little bit more sweet. Love, Katie."
Much to my surprise, Joni took the M&M's and put them in the office candy jar. Most of yesterday afternoon I was afraid that I had made a misstep. I mean, what could chocolate actually accomplish? On top of that, I was actually extremely upset that she had so quickly disregarded my efforts, especially since I knew she wasn't appreciating all of the uncomfortable moments that arose with other people in the office. Most of all, however, I was disappointed that she hadn't gotten the message; that I had made things too simple and lost the meaning behind it. But about 5 minutes ago I looked over at Joni's desk and saw my post-it note sitting in front of her.
She heard the message.
Love,
Katie
So, last week was rough without my dear Joni. Her father passed away Tuesday from a long battle with cancer, and although I couldn't imagine her grief, I knew that there was really nothing I could say that would combine sympathy, hope, and support the way I wanted to. So, I tried to do what I wanted people to do the week of Ariel's passing. I cheerily told her that I was happy she was back, made a few jokes, and left her to turn to the people she wanted to turn to for help.
I did decide to make one gesture. See, Joni is a big M&M's fan... and we all know about the healing powers of chocolate (however ephemeral), so I bought Joni the largest bag of M&M's I could find during lunch. When I got back, I decorated the bag with a simple post-it note saying: "To make your first day back a little bit more sweet. Love, Katie."
Much to my surprise, Joni took the M&M's and put them in the office candy jar. Most of yesterday afternoon I was afraid that I had made a misstep. I mean, what could chocolate actually accomplish? On top of that, I was actually extremely upset that she had so quickly disregarded my efforts, especially since I knew she wasn't appreciating all of the uncomfortable moments that arose with other people in the office. Most of all, however, I was disappointed that she hadn't gotten the message; that I had made things too simple and lost the meaning behind it. But about 5 minutes ago I looked over at Joni's desk and saw my post-it note sitting in front of her.
She heard the message.
Love,
Katie
09 November 2009
Making a little change
Hellooo!!!
This weekend it was pointed out to me that my P.S. section tends to be more interesting than the rest of my blog. I actually tend to add the P.S. because that's really what I want to talk about, but it has nothing to do with fitness/dieting/what have you. So, nerdy fitness will commence today with a different meaning. I will be exercising my mental muscle from now on... bringing you thoughts that only my weird psyche can come up with, and experiences that are everyday, but not when you look at them through my particular lens.
So, let's kick this off!! Today I would like to talk about inappropriate romantic/sexual advances. We've all had the occasional crazy come up and ask us for marriage/contact information/sex/etc., and yesterday I had it happen to me twice. Now, although I admit that my outfit was cute... (particularly my new black boots: Jessica Simpson Virnica 2... want to hate J-Simp's shoes, but just can't) my makeup was scarce, and my hair was definitely rocking a fair amount of end-of-the-day droopy greasiness. And yet, this did not seem to deter my gentleman callers.
Numero uno was the man at the concession stand at the Bridge. Let me preface this by saying that NO ONE should be attempting to pick up a girl at the Bridge: Cinema de Lux. Although it does have a well-kept appearance, it still manages to be ghetto. Add that ghetto-ness to the fact that my man was working the concession stand, and you've already got 2 strikes against you in my book. So... if you'd like to make an advance in this particular milieu, you need to really have your game up to snuff. Here's what I got presented: "Hello Miss, what can I get for you today? You're so pretty." It actually came out as if, "You're so pretty," was part of the introductory line they had be taught in concessions training. The equivalent to someone at McDonad's ending your order with: "Would you like fries with that nice set of honkers?" Now, what was I supposed to do in this situation?? I was caught off-guard, uncomfortable, but also still really wanted my bag of popcorn. So, I did what any girl that wants something (and would also like to see if she can get it for free) does... I batted my eyelashes, smiled, and said, "Thank you! I'd like a medium popcorn, please." Unfortunately, the last thing this man said to me was: "That'll be $5.50 ma'am." Boo.
Second man caught me buying candy at the airport. I was making my rounds through the candy store, taking a LITTLE BIT of this and a LITTLE BIT of that... I was totally controlling myself, but felt like I could use a good dose of sugary variety. As I made my way to the jelly bellies... Rico Suave decided he should point out my current situation: "Sweet tooth?" he said.
"Excuse me, what?"
"You seem to be going for about everything in the store."
"Oh, well... I like to have something to eat on the plane."
"Oh, you're flying? Where to?" (Okay... seriously? We're in an airport terminal!)
"Charleston."
"I'm from Georgia. My names George. What's your name?"
"George from Georgia, nice. I'm Katie."
"Well Katie, may I have your number?"
"I'm sorry George, but you live in Georgia, why in the world would you want my number? I'm not really in the mood for a commuter relationship."
"Who said you'd be commuting? A beautiful woman is worth a drive."
This went on for a while, so finally I gave him my number just to get him off my back. I was afraid he was going to call my phone to make sure it was my number... so I gave him my real number. I really regret this now, because I'd prefer he realize he got my fake number and be considered a bitch than really have to deal with him calling me... harumph. In the meantime while I anxiously await his call... let's talk about what was wrong with this situation.
First: The man started the conversation by pointing out that I was about to eat a ridiculous amount of candy. (You can bet your booty I put some of the candy back after this exchange. Since apparently I've been right all along, and people do give a rat's ass about what I do with my life, since they are put on the earth with the specific purpose of judging me... and so I need to act accordingly.) Who in the world thinks that the best way to hit on a woman is to first make her feel fat???!!! Although it might have seemed harmless to him, he just so happened to put his best foot forward onto a landmine. I mean... why hide it under the guise of a cute expression like "sweet tooth?" Why not just point out that my pants have slipped down just enough to allow excess amounts of me to spill out over the top? That'll get me in the mood. (My other thought is perhaps he was testing the water to see if I really loved candy and had the predisposition to plump up like a prize heifer. Maybe he likes 'em chubby.)
Second: Where was the witty banter that normally prefaces the demanding of digits? The only thing I knew about the guy before he made a proposition was that his name and his state happened to match, and is that really impressive? I mean, you could have Ken from Kentucky, Louis from Lousiana, the list goes on... Why should I want to talk to you again George? As the actors say: what's my motivation?
Third: The man lives in GEORGIA! Last time I checked, even established relationships don't make it when taken long distance (on average... don't go off on me about your relationship, because I don't mean you). Also, what the heck about the 5 seconds you've talked to me makes you willing to make the drive?? At this point, I could be some psycho killer who lures her prey by innocently lingering around candy stores. You never know... you never know... (Mwahahahaha!)
Last: Boys... If a girl's first response to you asking for their number is: "I don't know..." or some other evasive tactic, and you're not drunk enough to feign ignorance of that fact... don't ask again. She doesn't want your number, she's trying to be nice, and you're making her more uncomfortable with each additional advance. You might eventually get her number... but you will have ruined any chance you had of actually getting anywhere with it through your horrendous display of desperation. My advice to you is to either give up, or try and be an interesting enough person to where she'd want your number. Asking multiple times for a girl's number who obviously doesn't want to give it to you is creepy and counterproductive... plain and simple.
These two men brought up some memories for me, so I'm going to make a list of some of the worst things I've heard in men's attempts to seduce me.
- "You're American? Isn't your education system set up to where only the ridiculously wealthy can get an education? So... that means you're super rich?"
- "I'd be the kind of president that would allow gay marriage, because I can't judge gay people. Only God can judge them, and he'll make them burn in hell, but I'm not God." (Let me please state that I had mentioned to him my specialization in gender and sexuality, and that I am from San Francisco.)
- "You American's are utter idiots. One second you're democrats, the next second you're republicans. How can your whole population switch from one to the other every four years?" (Insulting and ignorant... seeing as the shift happens via swing voters.)
- "Nice Rack."
- "How old are you? You're 19? I'm 25."
- "Give me your finger. Want to have sex?"
- "Girl, your butt jiggles for days!"
- "What do you like most about a man sexually?"
- "Oh now, see, that's just hypocritical. You get pissed because I use this one little word, and yet you're all: 'Sure! Cut the budget for the war! I don't care if more soldiers die!'"
- "I work for the Air Force. No, I don't fly planes. I'm an electrician. No, not on the planes. I basically run the circuit breaker and switch light bulbs. Do I want to go back to school? No, I don't think so. I think about it, but then, like... I don't want to do homework."
There are many more that I can't think of at the moment... but what I'm really interested in now is hearing about the stupidity that you all have been witness to. Or perhaps, my gentlemen readers, what you have said during moments of said stupidity.
Love,
Katie
P.S. My dear friend Bradley is a wonderful cuddler. I thought this should be known by the masses.
This weekend it was pointed out to me that my P.S. section tends to be more interesting than the rest of my blog. I actually tend to add the P.S. because that's really what I want to talk about, but it has nothing to do with fitness/dieting/what have you. So, nerdy fitness will commence today with a different meaning. I will be exercising my mental muscle from now on... bringing you thoughts that only my weird psyche can come up with, and experiences that are everyday, but not when you look at them through my particular lens.
So, let's kick this off!! Today I would like to talk about inappropriate romantic/sexual advances. We've all had the occasional crazy come up and ask us for marriage/contact information/sex/etc., and yesterday I had it happen to me twice. Now, although I admit that my outfit was cute... (particularly my new black boots: Jessica Simpson Virnica 2... want to hate J-Simp's shoes, but just can't) my makeup was scarce, and my hair was definitely rocking a fair amount of end-of-the-day droopy greasiness. And yet, this did not seem to deter my gentleman callers.
Numero uno was the man at the concession stand at the Bridge. Let me preface this by saying that NO ONE should be attempting to pick up a girl at the Bridge: Cinema de Lux. Although it does have a well-kept appearance, it still manages to be ghetto. Add that ghetto-ness to the fact that my man was working the concession stand, and you've already got 2 strikes against you in my book. So... if you'd like to make an advance in this particular milieu, you need to really have your game up to snuff. Here's what I got presented: "Hello Miss, what can I get for you today? You're so pretty." It actually came out as if, "You're so pretty," was part of the introductory line they had be taught in concessions training. The equivalent to someone at McDonad's ending your order with: "Would you like fries with that nice set of honkers?" Now, what was I supposed to do in this situation?? I was caught off-guard, uncomfortable, but also still really wanted my bag of popcorn. So, I did what any girl that wants something (and would also like to see if she can get it for free) does... I batted my eyelashes, smiled, and said, "Thank you! I'd like a medium popcorn, please." Unfortunately, the last thing this man said to me was: "That'll be $5.50 ma'am." Boo.
Second man caught me buying candy at the airport. I was making my rounds through the candy store, taking a LITTLE BIT of this and a LITTLE BIT of that... I was totally controlling myself, but felt like I could use a good dose of sugary variety. As I made my way to the jelly bellies... Rico Suave decided he should point out my current situation: "Sweet tooth?" he said.
"Excuse me, what?"
"You seem to be going for about everything in the store."
"Oh, well... I like to have something to eat on the plane."
"Oh, you're flying? Where to?" (Okay... seriously? We're in an airport terminal!)
"Charleston."
"I'm from Georgia. My names George. What's your name?"
"George from Georgia, nice. I'm Katie."
"Well Katie, may I have your number?"
"I'm sorry George, but you live in Georgia, why in the world would you want my number? I'm not really in the mood for a commuter relationship."
"Who said you'd be commuting? A beautiful woman is worth a drive."
This went on for a while, so finally I gave him my number just to get him off my back. I was afraid he was going to call my phone to make sure it was my number... so I gave him my real number. I really regret this now, because I'd prefer he realize he got my fake number and be considered a bitch than really have to deal with him calling me... harumph. In the meantime while I anxiously await his call... let's talk about what was wrong with this situation.
First: The man started the conversation by pointing out that I was about to eat a ridiculous amount of candy. (You can bet your booty I put some of the candy back after this exchange. Since apparently I've been right all along, and people do give a rat's ass about what I do with my life, since they are put on the earth with the specific purpose of judging me... and so I need to act accordingly.) Who in the world thinks that the best way to hit on a woman is to first make her feel fat???!!! Although it might have seemed harmless to him, he just so happened to put his best foot forward onto a landmine. I mean... why hide it under the guise of a cute expression like "sweet tooth?" Why not just point out that my pants have slipped down just enough to allow excess amounts of me to spill out over the top? That'll get me in the mood. (My other thought is perhaps he was testing the water to see if I really loved candy and had the predisposition to plump up like a prize heifer. Maybe he likes 'em chubby.)
Second: Where was the witty banter that normally prefaces the demanding of digits? The only thing I knew about the guy before he made a proposition was that his name and his state happened to match, and is that really impressive? I mean, you could have Ken from Kentucky, Louis from Lousiana, the list goes on... Why should I want to talk to you again George? As the actors say: what's my motivation?
Third: The man lives in GEORGIA! Last time I checked, even established relationships don't make it when taken long distance (on average... don't go off on me about your relationship, because I don't mean you). Also, what the heck about the 5 seconds you've talked to me makes you willing to make the drive?? At this point, I could be some psycho killer who lures her prey by innocently lingering around candy stores. You never know... you never know... (Mwahahahaha!)
Last: Boys... If a girl's first response to you asking for their number is: "I don't know..." or some other evasive tactic, and you're not drunk enough to feign ignorance of that fact... don't ask again. She doesn't want your number, she's trying to be nice, and you're making her more uncomfortable with each additional advance. You might eventually get her number... but you will have ruined any chance you had of actually getting anywhere with it through your horrendous display of desperation. My advice to you is to either give up, or try and be an interesting enough person to where she'd want your number. Asking multiple times for a girl's number who obviously doesn't want to give it to you is creepy and counterproductive... plain and simple.
These two men brought up some memories for me, so I'm going to make a list of some of the worst things I've heard in men's attempts to seduce me.
- "You're American? Isn't your education system set up to where only the ridiculously wealthy can get an education? So... that means you're super rich?"
- "I'd be the kind of president that would allow gay marriage, because I can't judge gay people. Only God can judge them, and he'll make them burn in hell, but I'm not God." (Let me please state that I had mentioned to him my specialization in gender and sexuality, and that I am from San Francisco.)
- "You American's are utter idiots. One second you're democrats, the next second you're republicans. How can your whole population switch from one to the other every four years?" (Insulting and ignorant... seeing as the shift happens via swing voters.)
- "Nice Rack."
- "How old are you? You're 19? I'm 25."
- "Give me your finger. Want to have sex?"
- "Girl, your butt jiggles for days!"
- "What do you like most about a man sexually?"
- "Oh now, see, that's just hypocritical. You get pissed because I use this one little word, and yet you're all: 'Sure! Cut the budget for the war! I don't care if more soldiers die!'"
- "I work for the Air Force. No, I don't fly planes. I'm an electrician. No, not on the planes. I basically run the circuit breaker and switch light bulbs. Do I want to go back to school? No, I don't think so. I think about it, but then, like... I don't want to do homework."
There are many more that I can't think of at the moment... but what I'm really interested in now is hearing about the stupidity that you all have been witness to. Or perhaps, my gentlemen readers, what you have said during moments of said stupidity.
Love,
Katie
P.S. My dear friend Bradley is a wonderful cuddler. I thought this should be known by the masses.
05 November 2009
Moral of the Story...
Do you ever feel like the only thing getting in the way of you being fabulous is... you? Despite the fact that I wasn't supposed to be letting my mind wander... my hour stretching and bending, squatting and twisting, made me think about it. I'm the one who decides some challenges are too scary and quits, the one who grabs the last few doughnuts and hides the box in the bottom of the trash bin at work, the one who gives me permission to watch countless fictional people living on my computer screen (not even TV) instead of getting up and living my own non-fictional life. It's me.
So where the hell do I get off?? Who said that the only one who can be an utter asshole to me is me?? (Well, technically... that would be me.) I mean, think about it... would you let someone else maliciously stuff food into your face, knowing very well that their actions will fatten you up like a prize pig?? Would you let a coworker tell you that there's no way someone like you can possibly handle the challenge at hand? For those of you that are mildly combative like myself, the answer is HELL (fucking) NO! Man with the cake in his hand would get a swift introduction to the backside of my hand, and you know that bitch trying to tell me I can't do shit is going to end up getting her ass handed to her when I rock my presentation not only in content but in 5 inch heels.
So why in the world will I allow such rude behavior towards myself? Part of it's because I can, part of it's because I don't realize I'm doing it, but I think a lot of it is because it's so much easier. It takes a lot of effort to be a good friend to yourself. For instance, imagine your friend told you to take any junk food out of her hand every time she grabbed it. One particular day, she's craving m&m's like it's nobody's business, and about every five minutes she's got a handful that you have to grab and put back in the bowl. Wouldn't you give in and tell her to just eat the freaking m&m's after about the 10th time?? Well... that's essentially you on a diet. And it transfers to almost any situation. Being nice to yourself is practically a full-time job, and it's becoming obvious that (at least by my standards) I'm one lazy piece of poop.
Here's where I'm going with this: I need to put on the proverbial big girl undies and grow the hell up. (Quit soiling myself... if you will.) Nobody is going to force me to be a good samaritan to the citizen of one in the land of Katie, it's all on me. Not to mention that other people have an excuse for being an ass to me... they have their own load of crap to deal with... but the only crap I have to deal with is my own crap. It would be illogical to say I can be mean to myself because I have my own stuff to deal with... I mean... I can't even figure out how to phrase the statement, let alone the argument.
So today's mantra is: Only you can soil yourself... but why would you want to?
Love,
Katie
P.S. Today a guy in yoga totally had old man smell. What the heck happens to your body that makes you ooze such a distinctive scent marker???!!!
So where the hell do I get off?? Who said that the only one who can be an utter asshole to me is me?? (Well, technically... that would be me.) I mean, think about it... would you let someone else maliciously stuff food into your face, knowing very well that their actions will fatten you up like a prize pig?? Would you let a coworker tell you that there's no way someone like you can possibly handle the challenge at hand? For those of you that are mildly combative like myself, the answer is HELL (fucking) NO! Man with the cake in his hand would get a swift introduction to the backside of my hand, and you know that bitch trying to tell me I can't do shit is going to end up getting her ass handed to her when I rock my presentation not only in content but in 5 inch heels.
So why in the world will I allow such rude behavior towards myself? Part of it's because I can, part of it's because I don't realize I'm doing it, but I think a lot of it is because it's so much easier. It takes a lot of effort to be a good friend to yourself. For instance, imagine your friend told you to take any junk food out of her hand every time she grabbed it. One particular day, she's craving m&m's like it's nobody's business, and about every five minutes she's got a handful that you have to grab and put back in the bowl. Wouldn't you give in and tell her to just eat the freaking m&m's after about the 10th time?? Well... that's essentially you on a diet. And it transfers to almost any situation. Being nice to yourself is practically a full-time job, and it's becoming obvious that (at least by my standards) I'm one lazy piece of poop.
Here's where I'm going with this: I need to put on the proverbial big girl undies and grow the hell up. (Quit soiling myself... if you will.) Nobody is going to force me to be a good samaritan to the citizen of one in the land of Katie, it's all on me. Not to mention that other people have an excuse for being an ass to me... they have their own load of crap to deal with... but the only crap I have to deal with is my own crap. It would be illogical to say I can be mean to myself because I have my own stuff to deal with... I mean... I can't even figure out how to phrase the statement, let alone the argument.
So today's mantra is: Only you can soil yourself... but why would you want to?
Love,
Katie
P.S. Today a guy in yoga totally had old man smell. What the heck happens to your body that makes you ooze such a distinctive scent marker???!!!
03 November 2009
No fun... but some fun too!
OH MY GOD IT WAS DARK OUTSIDE WHEN I WALKED OUT OF THE OFFICE!!!! That was a horrible feeling... and I never want it to happen again.
Here are funny things about my day:
- I was filmed for a commercial in which a cooked turkey hits on women at a bar.
- I was invited on a road trip with the president of our company. I was then told that he'd talk to me for a bit, and then probably fall asleep.
- I had the most beautiful pair of boots arrive at my house today, but the height of a heel and lack of zipper make it impossible for me to put my foot in... although I was seriously tempted to try until either they or my foot broke.
- For the majority of the day, I was wearing an eyeball ring that I got from atop a cupcake.
- Wearing spanx all day is a horrible idea. At first it's fine... but then you eat, and you sit, and things start getting super claustrophobic.
- I sat and watched part of my dad's workout today for the specific purpose of being close to his personal trainer. Try and find Ian Blake online... or perhaps I'll try and do that for y'all... cause he is BEAUTIFUL!!!!
- My mother is eating yogurt next to me while I'm blogging... it's not necessarily funny... but it will explain why my post is ending now.
Love,
Katie
P.S. Never blog when there's the possibility that your mom might come and sit down next to you.
P.P.S. Yes, I know that had nothing to do with fitness... Deal.
Here are funny things about my day:
- I was filmed for a commercial in which a cooked turkey hits on women at a bar.
- I was invited on a road trip with the president of our company. I was then told that he'd talk to me for a bit, and then probably fall asleep.
- I had the most beautiful pair of boots arrive at my house today, but the height of a heel and lack of zipper make it impossible for me to put my foot in... although I was seriously tempted to try until either they or my foot broke.
- For the majority of the day, I was wearing an eyeball ring that I got from atop a cupcake.
- Wearing spanx all day is a horrible idea. At first it's fine... but then you eat, and you sit, and things start getting super claustrophobic.
- I sat and watched part of my dad's workout today for the specific purpose of being close to his personal trainer. Try and find Ian Blake online... or perhaps I'll try and do that for y'all... cause he is BEAUTIFUL!!!!
- My mother is eating yogurt next to me while I'm blogging... it's not necessarily funny... but it will explain why my post is ending now.
Love,
Katie
P.S. Never blog when there's the possibility that your mom might come and sit down next to you.
P.P.S. Yes, I know that had nothing to do with fitness... Deal.
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