Not The Reaction We Were Going For

Last Tuesday night I was given the opportunity to attend our church's annual "Standard Night." This is basically the night where the youth of our church learn about the importance of not drinking, doing drugs, using bad language and other such naughty things. After the two hour presentation, I ran into a friend of mine, who happens to be a youth leader like myself and said the following:

Friend: Did you ever see that documentary on McDonalds? You know the one where they talked about the negative effects of eating all that fast food?

Me: Yeah. Super Size Me. Right?

Friend: Yeah. Well, you know what I did after that movie? I actually went out and bought a Big Mac and supersized it.

Me: Wow.

Friend: Yeah. And you know what? I night like this, and all this talk of standards, makes me want to go out and just get ripping drunk, swear like a sailor and beat someone up.

Me: Wow. You have strange reactions to things people tell you not to do.

Decisions To Be Made

There are just some things we should have worked out ahead of time. For example, if you ever get the impulse to rob a bank, where are you going to hide the money and lay low until the heat dies down? Or if your child is not cute what are you going to say is his best trait so he doesn't grow up with a complex? And what would you do if you had to kill a man? Would you go for a good strangle or sharp object? You got to decide.

Unfortunately, I can't fully answer those above scenarios (though I'm working on them), but the other night, on my birthday, I was at least able to fill in one blank to a very important question. What's that question? (And how many times can I write the word "question" in one paragraph?)

Well: If you were on death row what would be your last meal?

My Answer: Maestros, Beverly Hills, CA. 12 oz filet with bone in, mashed potatoes and grilled mushrooms.

You laugh, but I'm not kidding, after eating this meal I was ready and prepared to say good-bye.

A Good Deed Punished

I consider myself a good wife. I try to cook, clean and watch my chick shows when the Jonas Brothers' Other Brother (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband)works late. However, I think I'm going to stop trying so hard. Right now, I'm typing with three fingers. Why you ask? Well, I decided today I was going to repair my husband's shoes with a little thing called Krazy Glue. (And Krazy it is) It said on the packaging this glue was "slow binding to the skin." I suppose their definition of "slow" is more like a bullet being fired? Or um...a rocket ship taking off?...Or um,hmmm...the speed of light? I Googled "How to remove krazy glue from skin" and found out the first suggestion is: "Don't let Krazy Glue touch your skin." Thanks Google for that sage advice.

I guess it's pretty cool since I just turned 31. Now when people ask me I'm ready to show my three fingers and 1 from my other hand.

The Luck Has Run Out

For the past few weeks I've been experiencing amazing luck. First, Duke won the National Championship (which of course, as an alumni I take full credit for). Second of all, I won a freaking free trip to Paris. Free. Third of all, I got pulled over for making an illegal U-Turn (which apparently is a $350 ticket) and was let go because I work at the restaurant the cop happens to love. And fourth of all, I found a $5 bill randomly on the ground while shopping. Sure it's not $100, but it paid for my freeee lunch.

Anyway, as amazing as all these events have been I'm sad to report my luck has officially run out. Today at church, I was informed I get the pleasure, no the honor, of taking our three teenage girls to camp in August. Yep, you are now reading the blog of the official camp director for my church. And how cool is it going to be? Well, when I was told about the new assignment I was warned about three things. 1. The camp we'll be attending (which by the way, is where they filmed M.A.S.H.) has a ridiculous amount of bugs. (awesome) 2. The girls need to learn how to make fire, tie knots and how to make food over fire before they go. (I'll be shortly introducing them to a lighter, duct tape and dried fruit) and 3. I'll also be expected to attend about ten meetings before we go, and ONCE we are there I need to construct "activities." (I hope the kids will enjoy "quiet Nap time" and "Don't talk to Kate for an hour.")

Mannnn...things were going so well.

I'm Officially a 30 Something

Well, today I'm 31. I would like to say I feel my age, but since I wore my retainer to bed last night, laughed at something deeply inappropriate at work the other day, and watched 90210 on my DVR yesterday I would say I'm feel more like a 13 year girl. Oh well, I don't know when I'll ever start acting my age. Hopefully, when my child goes to college I'll stop giving the finger to my friends and laughing at fart noises. Until then all bets are off.

For my birthday, I decided to share a little video from my childhood. It features my twin sister, who's birthday it is also today (a lot of people neglect to make that connection) and I think, it shows as to why I didn't pursue a dancing career.

Please enjoy my birthday tap dance...

Advice From a Mexican Sage

The other day I mentioned to a co-worker of mine, who is of the Mexican descent, that Big Poppa (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I have been trying to start a family for some time now. She was a little confused on what I meant by "trying to start a family," and decided to offer some advice. I swear to you this is a direct quote:

"You white people have no idea how to make a baby. Us brown people got it down. First, we eat only cheese, tortillas and chicken - which obviously, gives us lots to work with, and then when it comes to game time, we just go: insert two loud grunts and a strange gyration of her body. And that's how it's done. Stop thinkin' so hard - you white people..."

Now, every time I see her she just makes those grunting noises. I don't have the heart to tell her I have a slight hormone screw-up (official medical term) and not a problem with the actual process. Then again, maybe she's right. Maybe I should start eating more cheese, tortillas and chicken.

Tell Me You Like My Hat

For those of you questioning my ability to do accents - might this video put that debate to rest.

New Dawg in Town

I have an amazing aunt, who through sheer determination, has managed to win ridiculous amounts of contests. To be honest, I have no idea what her secret is. I don't know if she stuffs boxes with her name, bribes people in back rooms, has ESP or was born on some lucky day, but this woman has the touch. I think, and please cousins correct me if I'm wrong, but she has managed to win shopping sprees, trips and even a life size statue of Ja Ja Binks from Star Wars. There is nothing this woman can't do. For years, I lived in the shadow of this great and lucky woman, but today is my day of luck.

In January, my manager informed me that the top two sellers of a "Frequent Diner" promotion, from each restaurant in our district, would be entered into a contest to win an all expense paid trip to either Paris or Madrid. Now, I'm competitive, but not necessarily lucky, so I decided I would sell the promotions (I mean, you got cash for each one you sold) and then congratulate who ever won the trip. Little did I know that today my manager would call me and say, "Kate are sitting down?" To which, I would reply, "Why, am I being fired?"* And she would say, "Um, no. Actually, I'm calling because you won the trip to either Madrid or Paris!"

So yeah, Aunt Linda, move over - there's a new lucky dawg in town and this one is going to Paris for free!

I am planning on taking Little Napoleon (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband), but if he comes down with a case of the "I gotta work" please submit a 500 word essay on why you feel lucky enough to go with me. All submissions should be submitted before May 1st and please include a picture if you are between 25-30 years old and a male.

* I don't exactly steal money out of the register, but I have been known to eat a good deal of pastries.

Nominated For Being A Good Loser?

Today I found out that I have been nominated for "Coach of the Year." Now, in any other circumstance I would be humbled by this nomination, but this is a weird situation. One, I sort of feel like President Obama accepting the Noble Peace Prize. I mean, my team has won three games this year and been beaten by an average of 11 goals in each of our defeats. That's not exactly stellar coaching at work.

Two, I have been known to make somewhat belligerent comments during and after our games. Some of my favorites: 1. Getting a card at our BYU game (in the freakin' first half) after screaming out, really to no one, "Wow, so we are actually not reffing today? Good to know. I hate when I don't check my email. 2. For "muttering" "d-bag" after shaking Chico State's coach's hand and feeling good about it. 3. For screaming out, after a girl from UCSB tried TWICE and NOT even sort of successfully, to shoot behind her back, "That's it, because you definitely get extra points for difficulty in lacrosse. And by the way, the shot is even on goal, so let's go back to the old fashioned way of shooting! Shall we?"

And three, the nomination, put in by coaches from UC Davis, in itself was constructed to basically say, "This coach is great because when we were killing them she acted really cool." So, that's it. I'm nominated for being a good loser? No thanks. I would rather by nominated for my wit, my bitter sarcasm, my name calling, my attempts to trip refs as they run by, my 12 year old antics of informing my girls that they are already winners because the opposing coaches are either pedophiles, losers or some other choice playground term etc., etc., etc. Anything, but being a good loser. Seriously, it's downright embarrassing.

It Will Go Beyond Getting Your ZZZs

I know it's been a while since my last entry, but since last Saturday I have been in a nyquil coma. I don't know if I contracted the swine flu, the black plague or I'm being cursed for not getting a flu shot, but I have been bordering on death. Since my first cough I have been self-medicating myself with nyquil. Those of you not familiar with this drug, let me read from the bottle, sitting right next to me, what effects are listed: Excitability may occur, especially in children (this was probably written by a child on nyquil because there is no way someone becomes "excited" while on nyquil), and marked drowsiness may occur (when they say "marked" do they mean "extreme?"). It then goes on to say: be careful when operating heavy machinery or driving a motor vehicle and alcohol, sedatives and tranquilizers may increase drowsiness. (Who is taking tranquilizers with nyquil? That would be like eating a bowl of prunes and then drinking a glass of ex-lax to go to the bathroom. It's just not necessary.)

Anyway, after a few days on this miracle drug I feel like they really need to add some additional warnings and effects.

For example:
1. Nyquil may cause you to under react in extreme circumstances.
Where this conclusion came from: On Sunday, April 4, a 7.2 earthquake hit Southern California. I was laying in bed at the time, and while my bed was swaying back and forth and the blinds were rattling, I muttered, in a comatose state, "Stop the moving." Charles Ritcher (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) came running in and exclaimed, "Did you feel that!" Again, all I could do was roll over and moan.

2. Nyquil may cause you to lose all reasoning skills.
Where this conclusion came from: While on nyquil I decided, in between drinking my liquids and blowing my nose, I would send a document to Pepperdine. In the course of sending this document, I managed to uninstall our printer and title my email "ducument."

3. Nyquil may cause you to have weird food cravings.
Where this conclusion came from: Since Saturday I have eaten cool ranch dorritos, egos, granola bars, gatorade, oj, root beer and a slice of pizza. In any normal circumstance this food together would make me vomit, but since nyquil has deadened my appetite reasoning I find myself eating like a 13 year old boy.

I am happy to report today is my first day off nyquil and, though my hands are shaking a little bit, I plan on facing the day without it. Unless another earthquake hits - then it's back to the bottle...