Laundry Day

So, maybe this blog has become too revealing, but I sort of love putting Jeremiah's (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) clothes on and making him laugh.

Here was my one of my favorites while folding laundry.



Happy Thursday!

Take Me Out To the Ballgame, or Buy Me Online for 19.99

You know what happens when Babe Ruth (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I attend a baseball game? Well, first we settle into our seats. Then we intently cheer through the first five innings. Then we start looking around. And then, finally, we decide that the guy behind us has a mail order bride and we must take a picture of it...discreetly.

Seriously, this guy was about thirty years older than this sweet girl.

Actually, the best part of this picture is that while we were taking it the people next to us asked if we wanted them to take our picture because we were holding Babe Ruth's camera at such a weird angle. I then, after Babe told me to, told them that we were actually ten years old, and we were taking the picture of the mail order bride behind us. To which, they turned around and started laughing. Good times at Angels' Stadium!

I'm So LA

Here's a creepy picture of me "before." Notice the unhappy countenance. Darn those capillaries and their confidence sucking presence.

I'm now officially "LA." On Saturday, I was talked into heading down to the original General Hospital, or the hospital at USC, to be lasered by my brother-in-law. Why would I allow my brother-in-law to laser me? Well, we have a strange relationship...

Okay seriously, outside of being a sadist, my brother-in-law also moonlights as a dermatology resident. And for free, or for me, he was able to laser some broken capillaries on my face. It was pretty cool, outside of the fact, that the head resident looked at my face and said, "Now will we be getting your chin too?" And I had to respond with, "Um, no that is a zit." Oh, and the fact that I had to just clench my eyes shut while they lasered a capillary about 2cm from my face. But, hey it was free.*



Now when people talk about "getting some work done," I can join in and say that I too have dabbled with a few procedures, and then shake my dry martini around and talk about the merits of building a wall around the 10 to keep the rift raft out. (Sorry that's LA talk)


Here's a shot of my bruising...oh and my awesome seats at the Angel's Game. Look at the confidence beginning to rise. Thanks Lasers!!

* Jeff you know I appreciate the laser and I apologize for my ungrateful rant.

A Real Mentor

For the past couple of months I have been serving as the second counselor in the Young Womens Organization. (For those of you not of my faith, this is an organization geared towards helping and teaching teenage girls from the ages 12 to 18.) At first, I thought this was the perfect calling for me and I would be a great mentor to these girls. Unfortunately, I'm beginning to realize 1. I wasn't a very good young woman and 2. I still think like that 15 year old young woman. For example, last Sunday the first counselor gave a lesson on self-discipline and making good choices. The lesson was going well until she read out of the manual a scenario and then asked us how we would have reacted in that situation.

Scenario:
Julie and her friends decided to attend a party at their friend's house. When they got to the party Julie realized the party was being unchaperoned and boys and girls were pairing off to go make out and heavy pet.* Julie wanted to leave but was stopped by a boy she had liked for a long time....What should Julie do?

Kate's Answer:
Go outside. Making out in some dark basement is weird and uncomfortable. Have him walk you home. That way you leave the "bad" party and you might score a kiss.

First Counselor's Answer:
Julie should call her parents to come pick her up.

Kate's Thoughts:
I hope Julie likes spending Prom Night at home with those same parents who picked her up.

As you can see, I'm not the right person for this job.

*As long as I live I will always snicker at this phrase. Sometimes I'll roughly slam my hand down along LT's arm (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and say, "Hey are you in the mood for some heavy petting?"

TGIF

The other day Jaleel White came into the restaurant. I know, Jaleel White. I couldn't believe it myself - of all the celebrities. Oh, you don't know who Jaleel White is? Um, are you also going to tell me that you didn't count off the days until TGIF started and you got to watch not only Perfect Strangers, Full House, Step by Step annndd Family Matters?? Are you going to tell me you didn't laugh every time Uncle Jesse complained about his bunny rabbit bedroom or how Balki Bartokomous would say the craziest things?

Okay, for those of who didn't grow up in the blessed 1990s Jaleel White played one of the most annoying characters, named Steve Urkel, on a "hilarious"* show called Family Matters. Honestly, even at 12 years old, I couldn't figure out why people thought he was funny.

Anyway, when he walked into the restaurant you could tell he was trying to act all important and "celebrity like." For example, he kept pulling out this wad of money and telling his friend about his new Range Rover, (Which I think is an even trade for being known as Steve Urkel for the rest of your life.) Finally, when he turned the corner to get his table I pulled out a hundred dollar bill from my register and said to my friend, "100 bucks if you drop a plate of food by his table and say, Did I do thatt??" I truly would have paid good restaurant money, and come up with an air tight explanation for the lack of 100 dollars in my register, to have see that.

*And when I say hilarious I mean not funny at all.

Television For Women

Last Sunday afternoon I got caught in what can only be described as a terrible misstep. No, I didn't light a cigarette during Sunday school. Nor did I speak out about my favorable views on heavy petting while teaching the Young Women. Instead, my gross error happened while flipping channels after church. (Again, don't get ahead of me - I didn't start watching porn.) No instead, I found myself becoming strangely intrigued by a movie called "Decent Proposal" on the Lifetime channel. I don't know what sucked me in: the absolutely horrible acting or the mind numbing dialogue, but before I knew it was screaming things like, "Jimbo (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband), can you believe her rich husband tried to kill her painter boyfriend?!!"

Honestly, what is up with this channel? First, who are writing these movies? Do they enjoy watching women suffer? Are they all closet rapists and past abused women that are incapable of telling normal stories? Secondly, how come this channel, that poses itself as "a channel for women" only tell stories of infidelity, rape, kidnap, divorce and misfortune? Am I missing something as a woman? Should I be out kidnapping my neighbor's kid and running from the law? Would that make me more of a woman? Thirdly, who, and seriously, I want to know the answer to this question, are trying out for these parts? Does Lifetime only look for struggling actors who have actually never acted before, but learned in order to look sad you have to actually face the camera and make a frown? I swear I saw better acting in my Drama Camp. (Shout out to my fifth grade cast of Pandora's Box). And lastly, why do women support this channel? I had a roommate who every day after work would watch one of these ridiculous movies. Women, we have to join together and stop this madness. We'll take Project Runway, but we want the rest of your movies gone, such as "Hush: A woman moves with her husband to his old hometown, only to discover the his old girlfriend has a deadly obsession with him" and "Cradle of Lies: A woman and her husband get pregnant with a girl. The husband isn't happy because he needs a son in order to inherit his fortune." What the hell?

Lifetime: Television to degrade the sanctity and sanity of women.