A World Class Librarian

The other day I went to the library to check out a new book. After aimlessly walking around for a couple of minutes, I decided to ask the librarian if there are any books she would recommend. Now you tell me how bizarre this conversation was...

Kate: Excuse me, I'm looking for a new book and was wondering if you have any recommendations.

Librarian: What kind of books do you typically like?

Kate: Well, I've been reading a lot of biographies and I try to read some classics.

Librarian: Do you like anything with hard sex and language?

Kate: (Completely dumbfounded) Um, no not really.

Librarian: Yeah, that stuff can be awkward to listen to.

Kate: (Searching for the exits) You know I'll just go over there and look.

Now, here's my question: How in the world did this crazy librarian jump from me saying I read biographies and classics to being interested in hardcore sex books? And more importantly, does the public library at Santa Monica carry a lot of hardcore sex books? And is this an untapped genre I've been missing out on?

Bee Boop, Bee Boop

For those of you who are not Jack Bauer fans the following story might not mean anything to you. But, for those of you addicted to 24, the following took place between 9:30 and 10:30 am.

While working at the restaurant, Edgar (star of 24 season 5)came in and ordered some breakfast. Because I have no pride the following conversation took place:

Kate: "Hey, I just wanted to tell you I loved you on 24."
Edgar (Louis Lombardi): "Hey, thanks I really appreciate that."
Kate: "Man, when you died...it was intense. It was the first time they didn't go 'Bee Boop, Bee Boop' at the end of the episode."
Edgar: "Yeah...thanks."

After the awkwardness dissipated...

Edgar: "So, did you watch this season?"
Kate: "No, we have it Tivoed."
Edgar: "Oh yeah, can you believe Jack dies?"
Kate: "WAIT, don't tell me that. I haven't watched it yet!!"
Edgar: "I'm just kidding. I love doing that."

World's Greatest Teacher

My friend from college, Finn, is now living in Chile teaching high school at an international school with her husband. The other day she sent me this clip that one of her students had created. I thought it was hilarious and thought you might enjoy it.

Note: Before Chile, Finn was a high school teacher in Chicago. One day she decided to see how dumb her students could be so she taught them that Sir Isaac Newton was the one who created Fig Newtons. To her surprise, no one questioned her. Instead, they all asked how Newton had developed that wonderful fruit inside and cookie cover. What can I say my friend is truly molding minds in the classroom.



Finn would also like to point out that she is not Hitler, but his boss/teacher/evil overlord.

James

I'm not sure what is more demoralizing:

1. Slicing EVERY ball I hit today on the golf course?

OR

2. Playing with an 8 year old, who completely schooled me, and I think, who snickered every time I slammed my club down and muttered a quiet obscenity.

James, if you are out there, go home and play video games or something. Stop torturing a pathetic 30 year old.

A Special Seat in the Back

I neglected to write one more thought I had about my excursion to America's Got Talent with my dear mother:

To those of you who haven't attended a live taping of a TV show, let me give you a little behind the camera perspective. First of all, that audience you see, who are clapping their hands in enthusiasm, have actually been waiting for a couple of hours outside AND inside for the hopes that some camera sweep might catch them applauding like little monkeys. (Okay, I've been guilty of this group. And yes, I did just finally erase my "appearance" on Ellen. Man, I looked good clapping.) Second of all, the host, or panel of judges you see, typically have three layers of hairspray in their hair and 16 coats of make-up. Honestly, every time they cut to a commercial break a pack of magical trolls appear with tool belts full of brushes, make-up, duct tape, hair dryers and mirrors. (I wish I had that, but instead every time I yelled "break" they handed me snacks - preferably, wheat thins.)

And last of all, have you ever noticed that you never see an ugly person in the front? Well, as you can imagine this is not just an unexplainable coincidence. No, like all things in TV, even the appearance of the audience is carefully planned. Now, as I stated before, the taping of the show was pretty pathetic, but this part, of ushers strategically placing good looking and bad looking people, deeply intrigued me. For example, what is the criteria these ushers are using to place people?

Mustache on woman = back row?
Large boobs = guaranteed front row?
Man with Gigantic Afro = Back Row next to woman with Mustache?
Man with Hasselhoff T-Shirt = Next to Judges so The Hoff Can bask in his last fan's admiration?
Family of Black people = Front Row to appeal to a wider audience?
Family of fanny pack wearing Mid-Westerners = Back Row because boring people don't watch such a cool show?

Honestly, it was hilarious watching the ushers subtly, and not so subtly, direct people to certain places. And then, what was more funny, was watching people's reactions to their final destinations. Some people, who were placed in the front, walked confidently to their seats thinking, "Yeah, that's right, I'm good looking," while others put their heads down and thought, "WHY am I sitting in the back? Does that mean I'm ugly? Do I look fat? Why did I wear this shirt? This is just like high school where I was left alone on prom." Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but I have never seen a happier or sadder group.

So, where did my mom and I sit? Well, since we aren't overly endowed (sorry Mama), or do we have an abundance of facial hair, we were placed in the middle. I have to admit I was little offended. Does that mean we are just average? I hate TV.

America's Got Talent?

Last Monday night my mom and I traveled downtown to see a taping of America's Got Talent. For those of you who have never seen this show let me first say, congratulations and keep up the good work. You are successfully leading a fruitful life. No, seriously they have got to come up with a new name for this show. Something like: America Scraped And Found These People Who Were Willing to Do Anything, Even Appear a notch above a crazed Monkey, In Order to Be On TV for 2 Minutes. OR America Is Really Good At A Lot of Stuff But We Can't Get those People To Be On this Show So Here Are Some Other People Who You Can Laugh At. OR America's Show of People To Help You Realize That You Aren't As Depressing and Pathetic As You Think. Something other than America's Got Talent!!

Sorry. I know what you are thinking - Where does all this rage come from? Well, tell me to "cooperate and get ready for bed" and you will see the root of the monster. No, I kid. Milton (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) - that was for you.

No, this disdain for America's Got Talent comes from that fact that after three hours of sitting in a cold theater all I saw was this:

1. A deranged woman yanking a small horse up onto its hind legs and forcing it to make small circles, while wearing a princess outfit and pink shoes. I don't know what was worse - the animal cruelty or the fact that the horse laid a deuce on the stage during rehearsal.

2. A ventriloquist, who moved his mouth when speaking for the dummy. I guess he missed the part where he is supposed to keep his mouth shut and the dummy and him aren't supposed to sound the SAME.

3. A woman who sang opera while a bored looking guy played the electric guitar. I didn't know what to look at: the girl screaming into the microphone or the guy strumming along with absolute no commitment to the performance. Come on this is TV...you got to bring your "A game."

4. And last but not least, a husband and wife doing a tap dance on a step exercise box. Unfortunately, the only cool part was the full man leotard the husband was wearing and the obvious sham marriage between the both of them. (Come to think of it, maybe the act was for us to believe a man wearing a leotard was happily married to a straight woman.)

My American Idol

Here are my thoughts from the American Idol finale:
1. That "Mountain" song made me feel funny.

2. I hope that Bikini Girl gets hit by a bus on the way home. (Preferably in her bikini)

3. Adam Lambert tongue bothers me. I feel like his breath would smell.

4. Was Rod Stewart drunk?

5. My heart goes out to the blind guy, but making him sing, "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" is just plain mean.

6. What kind of tape does Paula use to tape her boobs together? Is it industrial tape? Good ol' duct tape? Super glue?

7. I sort of want to put Kris Allen in my pocket and pull him out for an afternoon song each day.

8. How many days does Kris Allen's wife have until the supermodel wife?

9. I will always watch the finale with my parents for comments like these, "What does it mean for that guy to trash his guitar?" "Kate, he's wearing make-up!!" And..."Who's that?" after every new person who graces the screen.

10. Boo to the yeah that Kris Allen won. (Spoiler alert) for you Tivo people.

People

After working two days at the restaurant I've noticed a few things about people:

1. Some people are cool. And some people are not. For example, after a lady told me she was allergic to cilantro, I made a special note of it on the ticket and notified the kitchen. Her omelet then came out with extra cilantro. She didn't complain. (cool) Another lady came in three separate times, complained each time and was comped three meals. (Not cool).

2. Some people have given up. For example, a rather large man, who could barely walk down our stairs, ordered only bacon to go. I have to admit, I sort of admired him.

3. Some people simply creep me out. For example, there was a guy from Italy who wore a fanny pack, Dolce Gabbana sunglasses, a mesh shirt and red spandex shorts, who kept hanging out near my counter asking me questions about Santa Monica. It wasn't the constant questions that weirded me out - it was the shorts that left nothing to the imagination.

More observations will be coming.



This was the closest picture I could find to my run in with the Italian Stallion.

Number Five

Today is my best friend's birthday. She is obsessed with the number five so here are five reasons why I think she's cool.

1. She has fantastic taste in music and has given me probably half the songs I own. Because of this generosity Jacque (named has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I started calling her my "music whore." Unfortunately, the name didn't really stick so we just call her EMad.

2. She'll put the entire world ahead of herself.

3. Once, when she got cut off while driving down the highway by a dirt bag in a large truck, she drove up next to him and got his attention. She then pointed down towards the groin area and then measured an inch with her thumb and pointer finger to indicate to him, that by cutting her off, he was not very well endowed. I love that story.

4. She's a vegetarian who eats club sandwiches at Red Butte Cafe in Salt Lake.

5. She'll pick you up when you get a flat on your bike, come to your game when it's 40 degrees outside, buy endless bottles of Diet Coke and mentos just to wash them burst, tell you are cool, run around with you in a haunted house and always have your back.

Happy Birthday E Mad.

Barb

One time when I was in high school my mom, my sister and me went out to dinner at the Olive Garden. (This of course, was when bread sticks and salad were unlimited and free AND when they used to cook the noodles in actual water and not in the microwave. Those were the days.) Anyway, when we came out of dinner we noticed the car, that was parked next to us, was now sporting a bashed in bumper. After inspecting the damage we noticed a note on the windshield that said, "Sorry about the bumper, but your car looked old so I guess it won't be that big of a deal." Instantly,we started to laugh at the audacity of someone to leave such an insincere apology for such a horrible act. As we continued to laugh, we started to think of other bizarre notes we would like to leave on people's cars. This led to my mom pulling out paper from her purse and us leaving notes on people's cars like, "Would you mind washing this piece of crap?" and "Are you really handicapped?" After leaving a few choice notes on people's cars we all ran to my mom's car and drove off.

I love this memory because it's one of those moments I think of when someone asks me to describe my mom. She is without a doubt one of my favorite people and I love her for her sense of humor and her love of life. I know people say it, but I really do have the greatest mom. Happy Mother's Day Mom!!

Rule of Thumb

Should I be worried about this conversation I had the other day with Einstein (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband)?

Kate: "It's always a good rule of thumb to wash your hands before making dinner."

Einstein: "Do you know where that term 'rule of thumb' came from?"

Kate: "No, Einstein. Now hand me that pan."

Einstein: "Well apparently there used to be a law in England that stated a man could only use a stick the thickness of his thumb to beat his wife."

Kate: Silence.

Einstein: Smiles.

Kate: Silence.

Einstein: "Isn't that interesting?"

Kate: Silence.

Einstein: (Holds up his thumb) "I guess that wouldn't really hurt."

Was he weighing my threshold of pain or thinking he was going to need a thicker stick? (I got to stop tickling him. I can tell I'm pushing him to the edge.)

A Small Earthquake

After living in California for almost two and a half years, I finally experienced my first earthquake. Sure, to you native Californians this was nothing more than a boring Mother Earth nudge, but to this east coast kid, I was pretty sure the world was coming to an end. For what seemed like five minutes (it's my story and I will freely embellish) my entire apartment building shook and groaned. Instantly, my body froze and I'm pretty sure my heart stopped beating. (Again, I'm the storyteller here. You are the reader. If you want to judge leave a comment like everyone else.) When it was finally over I let go of the pillow I was clenching and called Jimmy Dean (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and told him of my ordeal. Without an ounce of sympathy he said, "Oh please, that was nothing." Nothing? The world shook. That's not normal. I just don't get native Californians. I will give you the warm winters, the sunny days and the beach. However, I will never budge that earthquakes are something you just deal with and brush off. I'm mean seriously - do we finally freak out when LA splits in two, or when Santa Monica falls into the ocean? Just curious.

Heaven and Hell

For the past couple of days I have been participating in a "tasting" of the menu of the restaurant I will be working at starting next week. What's a tasting? Well, it is sort of my personal heaven and hell. Heaven because it's free food, everything I have had is amazing and I basically don't have to eat for the rest of the day. Hell because of a couple of reasons:

1. We all can agree that pancakes are awesome. (If you don't agree with this statement then you are either a communist or an idiot.) However, pancakes followed with a spicy tuna roll, followed by a turkey omelet and then followed by a burrito is not awesome. Actually, it's kind of making me sick thinking about it right now.

2. An enormous tasting is a horrible exercise for me to participate in because of my upbringing. Like many of you, I was raised by a mother, who I'm pretty sure was the actual Grand Master of the "clean plate club." Growing up it didn't matter if it was lima beans, jello chunks or a piece of gum you were saving for later - everything had to be gone before you could leave the table.

So, today, there I sat, surrounded by endless plates of untouched tacos, sushi and salads and all I could see was my mom's face telling me to keep eating. So, that's what I did. I ate sushi, a Caesar salad, tacos of every kind and an egg sandwich. However, I have to admit, that even when I gently undid the top button of my jeans to force one more taco down my throat, it still pained me to see food on the table. I swear I'm like Pavlov's Dog.

3. A tasting involves sharing a plate of food with three to four other people you don't really know. Consequently, you can't say, "Hey fatso, stop taking all the guacamole for your ONE taco," or "If you double dip that fork of yours one more time, I'm going to use my fork and stab you in the eye," or "Here's a fun game we are all going to play - STOP USING YOUR FINGERS AS A SPOON." No, a group tasting is a lot more delicate. Therefore, again, as fun as the free food is, it definitely comes with some awkward and difficult situations....but alas, I will endure. I mean, it's my job.

Our Addictions

For about a week McHale Slobadon (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) has been singing this commercial. At first, I just didn't get it, and then after watching it a couple of times, (once in Spanish), I started to really hear the magic inside this jingle. I promise you, after three times of listening to this you will start singing along. (Or is it, if you say a word in a foreign language three times you will remember it?) Anyway, for those of you who are not from California please enjoy.



I would call my husband crazy, but last week I played Text Twist for almost four hours. Four hours - and all I got is: for, our, ours, sour, four, hour, hours, fur, furs...sorry.

A Little Dance at Rite Aid

The following is what happens when:

1. Rite Aid says a pharmacy is open 24 hours a day, and yet, when you go it's closed.

2. When Javier (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I decide to get a milkshake at 11 pm.

3. What happens to me when I see a cane display...so hard to resist.



I understand if no one watches this.

To Burn, Or Not to Burn

At the moment, I find myself in a bit of quandary. A couple of months ago I was hired to work as a counselor for a summer camp on the beach. Initially, I was excited about the job because I would be working outside and playing games all day (because let's be honest I'm still a six year old boy). However, as time went on from my initial interview (which was a cross between a really bad drama class and a drunk AA meeting) my excitement for the job began to wane. Why? Well, let's just say the owner of the camp wasn't exactly my favorite person. (I know that sounds cryptic, but let's think about this in a broader sense. I like most people. Most people like me. So, if I don't particularly like someone, they must either 1. suck 2. smell bad 3. insist on recycling everything 4. A weird mid-30s guy who wouldn't let me even interview for the job I wanted or 5. religiously watch Oprah, read her books from her Book Club and read her magazine. You can decide which category the owner fell into.)

So, anyway a few weeks back, I decided to go hunting for a new job and stumbled upon a restaurant opening in Santa Monica who needed a cashier. I, without thinking, applied for the job, got the job and now I'm sitting with two jobs. (And people say the economy is bad...please.) So, here's my quandary: I obviously need to quit the beach job, but how do I do it? I mean, life has given me an opportunity to burn a bridge and really tell someone, who I'll most likely never encounter again, how I really feel about them. So, should I just tell the truth that I got another job and the commute is much better? Or should I just not show up that first day of camp and not return any of his frantic phone calls? (That was how I broke up with most of my boyfriends - definitely the tried and true approach.) Or should I call him and tell him that I think his staff, who he feels is really the "cream of the crop," is nothing more than a notch up from community college drop-outs, and that this camp, even though they tried to convey that during the interview process, is not curing cancer but glorified baby-sitting, and if I wanted to be treated like a moron I would have taped a "Kick Me" sign on my back and walked along a busy street?

I must admit, I'm really leaning towards the disappearing act. What can I say - thanks Universe for the opportunity, but let's be honest, once a weenie always a weenie.

Does anyone want to work for a total (insert something that reminds you of the beefy guy at the gym who stares at his muscles more than he actually lifts) this summer? There will most likely be an opening that first day of camp. Just look for the beach with four counselors instead of five.