A Hick In California

Wonder Sticks

2012-01-23T18:17:00.000-08:00

I swear this blog will one day not be an ongoing chronicle of my awkward moments - but ANOTHER one happened!

So, as many of you know I've been trying for some time to get pregnant. A few weeks ago, I went to CVS to pick up some ovulation tests. (For my male readers, these little wonder sticks tell if you can get pregnant or not. Not if you are pregnant, but can you become pregnant. Understand?) Maybe I should just end the entry here. Everyone feel awkward enough? Everyone picturing me peeing on these sticks? Perfect.

Anyway, I found the ovulation tests, but the one I wanted to get only had one left and that box was actually open and missing one of the sticks. So, I went to the store manager and showed him the open box and asked if he had anymore of "these" in the back. He then proceeded to grab the box, read the box and then look at me and ask, "What are these things for?" Really? We are doing this? Mind you this manager looked like: "College wasn't exactly his thing," and "Managing McDonalds seemed like too much responsibility" and "A woman isn't something he's actually hung out with."

So, for a few seconds I just stood there and then finally said, "Um, they are for getting pregnant." Wow, talk about a confused face. I think he actually thought these wonder sticks GET you pregnant because he said, "Really? How?" Again, we are doing this? Finally, I grabbed the box, contemplated taking the vandalized box home and trying it anyway, and then decided to leave. As I turned to go, he asked, while grabbing a pregnant test, "Will this work instead?"

Um...no.

My New Victims

2012-01-11T16:54:00.000-08:00

Today, I went to Home Depot to buy some flowers for my outside balcony. After wandering around for a few minutes, I found an employee and had the following conversation:

Home Depot Employee: "Can I help you find something?"

Kate: "Um, yeah, I'm looking for some idiot proof flowers."

Home Depot Employee: "Have you bought any flowers before?"

Kate: (While turning my back on the flowers and speaking in a low voice) "Actually, I got to be honest...I've killed a few of these guys in my day...I guess, I'm just here looking for my new victim." (Cue awkward laugh and glance away.)

Home Depot Employee: (Turning his body to shield the plants) "Um, have you thought of plastic flowers?"

Come on...not a little funny?

Lousy Service

2012-01-09T17:45:00.000-08:00

It would be a mild understatement to say our apartment building has had some issues over the years. For example, there was a fun time when our bathtub and sink used to throw up dirt and other types of bile from the depths of hell, and another favorite is when the ceiling over our shower began to grow slightly concave (yes, I still have a slight anxiety when showering.) I also loved the smoker we have next door who makes our lovely lobby smell like a cheap motel, and who can forget the incredible security system that ensured our bikes and all our neighbors' were stolen from our garage. Now, as annoying as all these things have been none of us have really made much of a stink over them. However, there has been one annoyance that has literally caused all the old people in our building to go completely crazy - the elevator.

About once a week the elevator just decides to die. Now, I live on the first floor (blog stalkers please keep your distance) so the death of the elevator does not effect me as much. Sure, it's annoying to walk the extra steps through the garage with groceries, but let's be honest, I'm usually only carrying a cereal box, milk and some bread, but for the old people this just pisses them off. Over the years, they have congregated in the lobby and muttered words of disgust as you innocently go to get your mail, they've left notes on the elevator informing loved ones they died because they were unable to travel three flights of stairs to get to the hospital and they have broken hips (wait...that might have just happened on its own.) Anyway, the other morning I woke up and found these posters all over the lobby:
I have to give them credit. I like the use of the word "dangerous." It changes the game. Now, I want this elevator fixed more than anything because now I'm afraid. Before, annoyed. Now, afraid. I also like that they bring up the fact that we pay too much...for what? Yeah, "lousy service." Again, game changer. Before, I was like, "I live in a nice apartment with a fickle elevator." Now, I'm like, "I live in a luxury hotel that is not bringing me champagne and strawberries, and I will not put up with this lousy service." So, again, fix this elevator. And lastly, invoking our manager's name is fantastic. It says, "Yeah, we're old and sit in our apartments all day, but we know...we know your name."

Has the elevator died since? Yep. Will it die again? Will someone on the third floor break a hip?

No Sympathy Here

2012-01-06T16:55:00.001-08:00

I had a good thing going with the whole awkward thing so I thought I would add another story. So, as many of you know, I've been trying for quite some time to have a baby. And during this sweet time of life, I've been waiting tables - just to ensure God knows I'm willing to really do anything to get a baby. (Yes, even answer the same questions all day long - and if any of you were wondering, after visiting our little establishment, the "freshly squeezed OJ" is truly freshly squeezed*, the California burger is half the size of our cheeseburger and the bathroom is down the hallway and to the left.)

So, I must also admit that while waiting tables I've "mentioned" a few times to customers that I'm trying to start a family. What? Sympathy tips are fantastic and I'm not below really anything when it comes to cold cash. Anyway, there's this slightly bizarre couple that comes in every Thursday and insists on sitting at the same table every time. (They have even asked people to move when they come in.) And what makes them even more fun is that 1. They always manage to call me a different name. Do I really look like a Carol? 2. They always order the same forsaken thing, and yet, always insist on telling me the order in full detail. (To which, I always try to interrupt them and tell them already what they are going to say, and yet, they will continue saying, "...Now please make sure the chef knows I like my tuna burger well done." Well done? A tuna burger? What a crazy order - YOU ORDER EVERY FREAKING TIME!) and 3. No, matter what, they always manage to order pancakes to go, again, a total natural progression from a tuna burger, and always manage to forget them. (This is actually their only redeeming quality.)

So, the other day we got talking and they mentioned they remembered me saying I was trying to start a family. I went to thank them for remembering, and then stopped immediately, when I saw them hand me a book entitled "I'm Okay...You're A Brat!" As I went to ask what the crap this book was about, Susan informed me she was the author, and that the book was about how it's okay to hate your kid. Yeah, you read that right - it's okay to hate your kid. Susan then proceeded to tell me how having her son was the biggest mistake of her life, and how it completely ruined every thing she wanted to accomplish. Now, I should mention, though you have probably already gathered this, Susan has a PhD (in what, I'm not sure) and according to her bio, is a best-selling author, a workshop leader, a public speaker and a media personality. (I've spoken in church a few times - does that make me a public speaker?)

Anyway, it was by far the strangest conversation I've had in a long time. I kept saying, "Well, I'm still going to try, " and Susan saying, "Well, I would think really hard about it." Finally, I just said, "Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind."

I think I'm going to write a book for Susan entitled, "I'm Okay...You Are Just Freaking Weird!"

*Not really.

Some Holiday Thoughts

2012-01-03T18:59:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year everyone! Well, it's been quite a holiday for me and the husband. We've been to Salt Lake City, Vegas, St. George, Utah (for those of you who are not experts on the cities of Utah) and then back to LA. I really don't want to see the inside of a car for a few weeks.

Anyway, I've had a few thoughts over the holidays, and well, without a proper opening, here they are in no particular order.

1. A few weeks before Christmas, the husband and I did some shopping. In the course of our holiday hunt, we entered Forever 21. Now, I don't know if I'm the only one who feels this way, but this store makes me feel like I'm having a seizure every time I'm in it. Honestly, does anyone, who works for Forever 21, follow Tim Gunn's sage advice and edit their designs? In one section of the store are plaid skirts, silk shirts, cheap shoes and large ridiculous belts. Just as you are trying to decipher between a belt and a shoe, you turn the corner and are assaulted with more prints, ruffles and leather. After five minutes of being in this store I don't know if they are selling clothes or this is a storage area of 15 different neighborhoods' garage sales. Finally, after I lost the husband twice (he was actually right next to me, but I couldn't see him among all the chaos) I threw my hands over my eyes and asked to be safely guided out.

Will someone please tell me how to shop at this store?

2. Thought number 2: Vegas is weird and the strangest people go there. (Not including me and the husband) For example, while the husband was checking into our hotel, I stood by the elevators and observed the following people walk by: 1. An Asian family consisting of a Grandma, who kept knocking into slot machines, a child, who kept screaming something in Chinese, her mom, who was oblivious to her screams and three other men, who looked like they just wanted a smoke or a buffet. 2. Four rednecks covered in camouflage, carrying beers in each hand, looked at me and said, "Hey remember, what happens in Vegas..." cue wink and then high fives from their buddies. (I sort of wanted a hunting rifle at that moment.) and 3. 1 high school student, who was dragged from his basement and Call of Duty video game, to go to Vegas with his Mom, who likes to knit pillows with kittens on them, and his Dad, who is an accountant and hates gambling because of the frivolous loss of money it causes. (Alright I wasn't sure about the knitting, but I have never seen a family more miserable and more out of place.)

So, the question is - why do all these bizarre people come to Vegas? What is it about Vegas that unifies us all? And where do I fit into all this?

3. Thought number 3 - buffets are just plain wrong. At eleven in the morning the husband and I entered a buffet and left an hour later feeling like we wanted to kill ourselves. Who decided to allow Americans, fat Americans, to enter a room and be allowed to eat ribs, chicken, omelets, donuts, ice cream, corn, sushi, french fries and hot dogs all in ONE sitting and ALL YOU CAN EAT? I swear, as I sat there watching my husband gnaw on ribs in one hand and bacon in the other, I thought, this is it....this is where he dies. (see picture above)

4. Will someone please bomb the fruit inspection stand just outside Barstow? Please. Or please let me know how much they make to wave people through. I'm pretty good at looking ambivalent and nodding my head.

Alright there's more thoughts - but that's enough for tonight.

Thoughts on my thoughts?

A Footlong Mistake

2011-12-15T21:18:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the week of no posts. I had a terrible week of bad karma. How did it all begin? Well, last Saturday the husband and I went up to Camarillo to do some shopping. After four hours of the husband saying, "I don't know what looks good. Ask someone else," we took a break and enjoyed some Subway sandwiches. As we were eating, I realized the total I was told, and paid for, didn't seem to make sense. After retrieving my receipt, I noticed the Subway employee neglected to charge us for the husband's sandwich. Now, here's where I went wrong. As we sat there watching millions of people file around the stores and restaurants, we decided we weren't going to go up and rectify our bill. I know, I know I seem like someone who has a conscious. (My apologies for crashing your hopes and dreams.)

Anyway, as we continued with our day I had the nagging feeling that this false decision was going to come back and haunt us. And oh, how it did.

Fast forward eight hours, the husband and I have just enjoyed some delightful Japanese food (which we paid in full) and we find ourselves entering our apartment's elevator at a slightly heightened pace. (We were sort of chasing/fighting each other.) Anyway, me, always being the brilliant one, decided to change the game and threw my keys at the husband. As soon as I let go of the keys, I saw the Subway staff doing inventory and wondering where did that unaccounted foot long wheat go? Where did it go Subway? Well, probably not the same place my keys ended up. Yep, my keys managed to ricochet off the husband and down the elevator shaft. Gone. Point for you karma.

Now, I wish I could tell you that that was the end of the game, but karma wanted more. Fast forward five hours and I find myself, like a freshmen in college after her first night of drinking, throwing up my PAID for Japanese food. Yep, not only did I lose my keys, but I also got the STOMACH flu! Yeah.

Moral of the story: Pay your freaking Subway bill. The universe is watching.

Oh, and if this didn't seem awkward...more stories are coming.

It Wasn't Me

2011-12-08T20:54:00.001-08:00

Awkward #4:

A few weeks ago I went to the grocery store to get some dinner for a big party I was throwing...oh wait, I was getting dinner for myself. (Cue complaint about my husband's hours.) Anyway, as I rounded the corner to the produce section, I heard a very loud crash followed by about 30 bottles of wine falling to the ground. As I stepped closer to see what had happened a man popped up from the mess, made eye contact with me and then quickly walked away. After he rounded the corner, another customer, who saw the scene, looked at me and asked, "Did he just run away?"

Now, of course, the fact that a grown man would run away from such a huge mess is slightly awkward, but things got more awkward as we continued to run into each other throughout the store. Every time we would find ourselves on the same aisle I would look at him with the, "I know what you did," look and he would respond with, "Please don't tell them it was me" look.

Finally, after three different awkward encounters, I began to wonder why he ran away in the first place. Did he think they were going to revoke his shopping privileges for life? Did he think they were going to make him clean up the virtual winery on the floor? Or even pay for the mess? Did he think they would make him drink the spilled wine while shouting, "YOU ARE AN IDIOT AND EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW IT!!!?" Honestly, was does this guy do when he makes a mistake at work? Burn the office down so no one will know he accidentally pressed "reply to all" instead of replying back to one person?

Hey, grown man at the grocery store you made a mistake. It's okay. Really. It was wine on sale at the grocery store. We aren't talking real expensive stuff.

Guess What? Your Car Just Got Keyed!

2011-12-06T21:54:00.001-08:00

Awkward #3: (refer to the last two entries)

Homeless man walks down four blocks and scratches every car with a pocket knife. Finally, at the fourth block the police catch up with him and he is arrested.

It is estimated that almost twenty cars were scratched. His last victim was a nice Lexus.

I walk into the restaurant, after getting the story from the police officer, and say out loud, as I'm pointing to the street, "Man, I would hate to own that Lexus."

Three tables over a customer pops his head up and says, "What did you say about my Lexus?"

Big Hat

2011-12-05T19:39:00.000-08:00

For those of you, who haven't been reading my blog because of my gross neglect I have decided, well since my last entry, to recount some of the past awkward moments I have had to endure through the month of November.

Awkward Situation #2

So, on Thanksgiving day I was working at the restaurant serving ridiculous amounts of food to ridiculous amounts of people. (You know our country is disgustingly obese when, on the most gluttonous day of the year, people BEGIN their feasts with eggs benedict, pancakes, bacon and hash browns.) I digress.

As I was finishing up for the day, Norm MacDonald (star of Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live and Billy Madison) walked in and plopped down at one of my tables. He's a bit of a regular so I wasn't star struck or overly excited to take one more customer. However, as I got to the table he shouted out, "Hey, long time no see!" and then proceeded to grab my hand and perform the most awkward handshake. Now, this five minute hand jive would constitute an awkward moment, but then it got a little stranger. As we bumped fists and slapped palms, he said, "Last night I made food for Thanksgiving, but then I left it out all night and it spoiled, so I left everyone in my house and came here." (Still attempting to master the 90210 Dylan McKay and Brandon Walsh final high five.) He then proceeded to ask, "Do you guys do Thanksgiving to go?" At this, I pulled my hand away, and realized poor Norm was deeply drunk and in deeply in need of a Boston Market...and maybe a request for a quick impression of Burt Reynolds. (Come on, like you wouldn't have taken advantage of his inebriation and said, "Big Hat. It's funny because it's a big hat." Right?)

Anyway, after downing an omelet and some hash browns, he announced he had found a "Thanksgiving take out place" (yep, I bet it was awesome too) and proceeded to grab my hand for a final adieu. Fortunately, I was ready this time and got out after two sort of cool snaps.

I don't know what was more awkward, the fact that he seemed to think we were really good friends, or the fact that he sucks at handshakes?

I Literally Died

2011-12-04T20:23:00.000-08:00

This is me being literally dragged to Hawaii.

Since 1 of my 5 readers threatened to stop following my blog I have decided to check in (yeah, that's right, Meg Schmidt - you are getting a shout out.) I apologize for the absence, but since my last entry, I've been to Hawaii, celebrated Turkey Day and....um, sort of started watching Hart of Dixie. Oh, did I just lose 1 of my five readers? I meant, I've been watching Hawaii 5-0...oh, and all of the sudden, my readership in the midwest and between the ages of 41-to dead has gone drastically up!

Alright, enough of the excuses to the faceless cyber-world, let's get down to it. This past month has been an unusually awkward month for me. Therefore, for the next six entries you are going to get to see the past month through my eyes.

Awkward Situation #1:

After being in Hawaii a little over a week, I returned to work and was asked about 100 times, "Where were you?" by co-workers and my regulars. I finally grew tired of saying, while shrugging my shoulders in the most pathetic attempt at humility, "Um, I was in Hawaii for a week with my husband's family," so I decided to change things up on one unsuspecting customer. The following awkward conversation occurred:

Customer: "So, I came in last week and asked to sit in your section, but they said you were not here."

Kate: "Oh, yeah. It's actually sort of crazy."

Customer: Pushes aside his oatmeal and leans in...

Kate: "My husband just packed my bags, threw me on a plane and forced me to go to Hawaii. It was pretty scary there...but, someone had to do it."

NO EXAGGERATION

Customer: (Slight moment of silence) "Um, Kate, are you okay? Are you still with your husband?"

I got to admit I just don't understand literal people. What kind of world do you all live in? Do you look at people's crotches in disgust when the say, "I literally peed my pants?" Are you enraged when you find out someone didn't die even when they said they literally died when they found something out? And do you truly believe someone gets DRAGGED to Hawaii?

On second thought, was this customer being sarcastic with me? Am I literal person?

Halloween - Yous Confusin'

2011-11-01T18:04:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you, but I find Halloween sort of confusing. I mean, when I see a grown man wearing a Darth Vader mask and boxer briefs underneath a cape (true customer yesterday) am I supposed to just think that's alright? Am I just supposed to refill his ice tea and not stop and say, "Um, those boxer briefs are really leaving nothing to the imagination, so if you wouldn't mind..." I just don't get it. How come boxer briefs in public are okay yesterday, but severely taboo today? It just doesn't make sense.

The other aspect of Halloween I find very confusing is that the whole day you find yourself wondering, "Now are you dressed up as Harry Potter or are you just some little English Guy who ran into a glass door when he was five?" (Again, true customer from yesterday.) Seriously, all this confusion creates some awkward situations. For example, I almost said to one woman, "Man, I love the deranged look you have going today. Are you supposed to be an escaped schizophrentic from some psychiatric ward?" (Turns out she just needed some coffee and food and then the deranged look went away.) Or the actual slip I made when I said to a kid, IN FRONT OF HIS MOM, "Are you a zombie?" (In my defense, he was so immersed in his mom's Ipad he didn't even notice when I brought his food out.)

Anyway, Halloween, you and I have had some good times, but on whole I just don't get ya.

People Are Idiots

2011-10-30T17:04:00.000-07:00

I know I say this a lot, but I'm continually shocked by what people do and say in a restaurant. Today, was definitely one of those days when I thought to myself, "I don't get paid enough for this crap."

First customer:
We'll call him George. George comes in a lot and likes to talk. He'll see you have ten tables holding up empty glasses of ice tea and continue to talk to you about the cost of sheep in Asia - and I should mention, while you neglect your other tables to hear these rants of a lonely man, he doesn't tip that well. So, basically, I am nice to George because I realize he's lonely, but I sort of dread when he's around. Anyway, today I was a little slow so I made the deadly mistake of saying, "George how are you today?" For the next five minutes he proceeded to tell me about the infection in his foot. He used words like pus, dead skin and potential for more infection. I just stood there trying to think about anything but the two layers of dead skin his doctor removed yesterday and what it looked like falling to the floor. Finally, I cut him off and said, "Well, George you want to order some food? and he said, "Well, I'll have some pancakes but I have to keep this foot elevated,"...and then I did the unthinkable - I looked. I looked at the infected foot. Why was it out for everyone to see? Well, some time during me trying to zone out of this nightmare, George had taken off his sock to give me a first hand look at his foot. I know what you are thinking - who does that? People in a restaurant.

2nd set of customers:
These two idiots sat down, made some stupid reply to my "Can I get you guys something to drink?" with "Only if you have an IV of coffee on you," and then after I didn't laugh, they ordered 1 (remember this number) 1 muffin. Now, after getting their complicated order, I ran to the market area to get other tables' muffins and coffee. I had not rung in the muffin yet, but decided to pick if up for the idiots and then put it in later. So, now the idiots have 1 muffin - which they start to eat. After ten minutes, I ring in the muffin they are eating, but unknowingly someone grabs them a muffin, thinking I just rang it in, and brought it to their table. Now, what would you do in this situation? Would you say, "Um, sorry we already have our muffin and didn't order another one," or would you say nothing, take the muffin, eat it, and when your server comes over to ask you why you ate the other muffin, do you feign surprise that another muffin appeared AND inform your server you won't be paying for it? Guess which option these idiots chose? Because all restaurants have the policy of "Buy 1 get 1 completely free immediately after."

I hate people sometimes.

The Real Life of An Attorney

2011-10-27T20:26:00.000-07:00

For those of you who thought being an attorney was all about reading documents and writing contracts...you also need to be up to date on Real Housewives of New Jersey. (It's a section on the BAR - or so he said.)

In Need of Adult Companionship

2011-10-25T20:37:00.000-07:00

I've realized, after many nights of being left alone by my over worked husband, that I don't function very well without some type of adult companionship. For example, since being home at 4pm I've had two bowls of cereal - one counted as a quasi lunch/"energy" for some type of exercise to be completed before dinner, and the other bowl was initially classified as a snack, but to be honest it really should fall under the category of "I'm lonely and these honey nut cheerios will make it all better." (I should also say that between the cereal I had dinner. So, the 2nd bowl wasn't really a snack, but more of an unnecessary treat to myself for finishing my dinner.)

Now, overeating is not only my only issue with being alone. In addition to taking down boxes of cereal, I also find myself in periodic time warps of the internet. It seems like every time I go to check the weather to see if I need to put on a long sleeve for my run, I end up reading ridiculous articles about Beyonce and Jennifer Aniston for 45 minutes. 45 minutes and I'm still not even sure if Jennifer has found the one and if she is indeed pregnant.

Once I shake myself from the food and the internet, I coax myself into some type of exercise, which is really a means to making more room for cereal, and then, because, again, I'm not a highly functioning alone person, I'll take a shower with my the bathroom door open and my apartment door unlocked. How many times have I stopped my shower in panic because I thought I heard something or someone? Too many to count. Has this made me lock my apartment door? Not yet.

And lastly, as if the eating disorder, internet obsession and streak of exhibitionism wasn't bad enough, I'll admit, and only because we are good friends, there may or may not be some dancing in front of the many mirrors in my apartment. What? I'm on a freaking sugar high...you try sitting still after two rather large bowls of cereal.

Hey, attorney husband...come home to your wife.

Halloween Is A ONE Day Holiday

2011-10-23T21:15:00.001-07:00

Last night I was in West Hollywood and saw numerous people dressed up in costumes. (I know, it's West Hollywood, and these people might have been just going to the store or renting a movie, but it brings up a particular point I would like to make.)

First of all, I would like to state that I'm all for costumes on Halloween. Let me repeat, I'm in favor of costumes ON Halloween. However, for those of you who think October is like December and feel like it's alright to dress up for 30 days until the big event, let me just say it's not. Halloween is one day, and therefore, you are only supposed to dress up for ONE day. I mean if we allow this blatant stupidity what's next? All April we hide eggs, carry baskets of candy and hop around like stupid bunnies until Easter? Or do we parade around with handfuls of flags until, and this of course is one of my favorite holidays, Flag Day decides to finally come? Or do you want loads of college students drunk the entire month of February until all their Irish blood manifests on St. Patrick's Day? I didn't think so.

So, to you premature celebrators out there, who think it's okay a week BEFORE Halloween to dress up as bizarre zombies and skeletons, just hold off one more week. What are you five?

Honesty Will Cost Ya

2011-10-17T18:03:00.001-07:00

Since working at a restaurant for almost 2 1/2 years I've learned that my job isn't just about friendly service and hospitality, but more about an astute ability to lie. For example here's some of my favorites:

Food comes out wrong
Option 1: Play up the fact that our kitchen is mostly Hispanic, and then exaggerate the obvious language barrier with some type of mild racial slur.
Option 2: Claim another server took your food to another table. Make a lighthearted joke like this one, "I'll go check on table 10 and see if they are enjoying your breakfast."

Food is taking too long (because you forgot to put the order into the computer)
Option 1: Claim that your systems just went down for a few minutes and now the kitchen is scrambling to catch up on all the back orders.
Option 2: Claim their food came up, but you inspected it, found it to be cold and demanded an immediate "refire." I usually deliver this with a disappointed face.

Questions about "free range" and organic food
Option 1: Ask them this, "Were you hoping to find free range chicken?" Person answers, "No, I hate free range chicken." So you say, "Well, then good because you are in luck. Our food is NOT, I repeat NOT free range." If they reply, "Why yes, I only eat free range." Then you say, "Well, then good because you are in luck. Our food is free range. I repeat is free range."
Option 2: Always say yes to organic. If some idiot is asking, then they are looking for a yes. (If you say no, they might ask you why you don't recycle. It's just not worth it.)

Do you like _____?
Option 1: Decide what this person is looking for. For example, if this person asked if you can cook the tuna burger well done and wants to know if you have onion rings, tell them you do not like the brussel sprout salad. If they are wearing skinny jeans and something totally vintage tell them you love the brussel sprout salad...because it's totally organic.
Option 2: Come on you smart people out there...what do I like? Um, the filet tacos are amazing because they are...what the most expensive thing on the menu? What?

So, remember us servers might look nice, but we are not to be trusted.

I'm A Closet Redneck

2011-10-16T21:57:00.000-07:00

Alright I'll come clean, I sort of love country music. There's just something about it that makes me feel all sorts of emotions. Honestly, it makes me want to buy a pick-up truck, move down south, enlist in the army, find a good cowboy and lay in the grass while the sun sets. It's fantastic. And I'll even admit I've seen more country concerts than "normal" shows. Yeah, it's all coming out tonight. I've even seen Tim McGraw three times. Who sees Tim McGraw three times and likes it? This gun carrying redneck wannabe - that's who.

However, as much as my love runs deep for country music I also have my limits when it comes to this sometimes ridiculous genre. Take for example this current hit "My Girlfriend Likes To Fish" by Craig Cambell, I heard on the radio the other day:

If you don't want to watch the video you can just read these lyrics:

The first time we did it I was scared to death
She snuck out in that cotton dress
Jumped on in and we drove to the lake
Put her hand on my knee and said I can’t wait
I had everything we needed in the bed of my truck
Turns out my baby loves to…

Fish, she wants to do it all the time
Early in the morning, in the middle of the night
She’s hooked and now she can’t get enough
Man, that girl sure loves to fish

After that, that’s all she wanted to do
But that was okay ’cause I did too
She always wants to go down by the dam
And I love how she looks with that rod in her hand
If they ain’t bitin’ she don’t give up
Turns out my baby loves to…

Fish, she wants to do it all the time
Early in the morning, in the middle of the night
She’s hooked and now she can’t get enough
Man, that girl sure loves to fish

A song about fishing? A song about your girlfriend liking to fish? Are we serious? How can I defend this song to my husband and friends when they make fun of me for my closet love of country music? What's next - a song about how your girlfriend is actually your cousin and you both love making moonshine while watching NASCAR? Work with me country music.

Giving Things Away

2011-10-06T20:46:00.000-07:00

So, today I had to serve this rather annoying chick on the patio. How annoying? Well, she was one of those people, that when I picked up her empty plates and asked, not really intending a real answer, "How was everything?" she replied, "Well, I loved the bacon, but I didn't totally enjoy the eggs, and the rice and beans didn't seem fully cooked." Thanks food critic because I really wanted a rundown of your breakfast.

Anyway, after a lengthy complaint about the lack of internet, she paid her bill and I went inside to clean some tables. As I looked out the window, I saw her take our water bottle, which is sort of this cool slender glass bottle, and place it in her bag and prepare to leave. Immediately, I walked outside and stopped her from leaving. As I approached her, I asked, "Did you take our water bottle?" (This time intending a real answer.) And she replied, "Um, yeah isn't that okay?" (Yeah, because all restaurants allow you to take home plates, forks and glasses after your meal.) And I said, "Not really," and she said, while handing me the bottle, "Oh, because last time I was here they just gave me the bottle." To which I responded with, "That's just weird," but what I really meant was: Gave you the bottle? Really? Do you also go to Macy's and they just "give you" clothes? Or do you find yourself at Target trying to stop all the employees from "giving you" merchandise?

Honestly, people are so weird. I hope she comes back in so I can take her laptop. I mean, I hope she comes back in so she can "give" me her laptop.

D-List Celebrities

2011-10-04T17:05:00.001-07:00

Typically, I play it pretty cool when celebrities come into the restaurant, but today I just couldn't help myself. When I was five years old I used to come home from kindergarten, saddle up to a warm bowl of mac n' cheese and, along with my sister and mom, watch this beautiful man (see picture below) play Brad on Young and the Restless. (Yes, my mom is and was a parenting genius.) So, you can imagine my surprise and excitement when I went out to the patio and found my long lost gardener/president of Jabot Cosmetics (sure, he slept his way to the top, but look at him...) waiting for me to take his order.
After a few seconds of restaurant and menu talk, I decided to strike up a conversation. However, things got a little weird.

Kate: "So, you probably don't want to hear this, but I sort of grew up watching you."

Brad/Don: "Why do you think that would bother me? Because of my diminishing age?"

Kate: (Slight swoon) "Oh, no. It's just that I was so excited when I saw you before that I told my mom and she became really excited to hear I had seen you..."

Brad/Don: (Cuts me off mid-sentence) "Do you want to take a picture?"

Kate: "Um. No, I mean, sure. Well, I don't have a phone on me."

Brad/Don: "Well find one."

Kate: "No it's cool."

Brad/Don: "Well let's take a picture if you find a phone."

Kate: (Sort of getting creeped out.)

Twenty minutes goes by, Brad/Don has finished his breakfast, Kate is clearing table.

Brad/Don: "Did you find a phone?"

Kate: "Um, yeah, let me go get it."

Kate goes into restaurant, finds her manager and asks to borrow his phone so she can take a picture with some soap star. Manager confused, but gives her his phone.

The following picture is taken:
Lesson learned from this experience: Continue to play it cool with celebrities...especially with the D-List celebrities.

NOT GUILTY

2011-09-29T14:55:00.001-07:00

You know what all these people have in common?

They were all found "not guilty."

Yep, no biking ticket for me. Mess with the bull...and you get my lawyer husband.

Look at My College Degree At Work

2011-09-27T17:01:00.001-07:00

For the past couple of days fellow alumni of mine from Duke have been coming to the restaurant to dine. I'll admit, these aren't my favorite encounters. There's just something slightly demoralizing about reconnecting with one of your old classmates as you wear an apron and ask if they want coleslaw or fries with their cheeseburger. However, the thing I hate the most is the unspoken conclusions I imagine my friends are coming to as they see me bus tables and run food. Like: "Oh Kate, didn't seem like the type to get knocked up after school, give the baby up for adoption, fall into heroine and now, 10 years later, getting her life back together as a lowly waitress." Or "Hmmm...waitress? Yeah, I could see that. She always seemed like the lowest paying job type of person." Honestly, I can see it in their faces.

So, what do I do? Well, after loathing our chance meeting, I find myself saying absolutely ridiculous things. Like today, after encountering a guy, who's roommate I dated for a semester, I said, and mind you this was completely out of context, "Oh, and just so you know this is a total part time gig. My husband has a really high paying job as an attorney." Really - did that just come out? Or a few weeks ago, a past basketball player at Duke, who never actually graduated or attended a single class and who makes more money than I'll see in my lifetime, came in, and I said, "I just picked up this shift to help out my friend. I actually work from home." Work from home?! Doing what - professional checker of Facebook? I'm a total fraud!

Oh well, at least I get the sympathy tip.

One Swing At the Clown

2011-09-26T16:04:00.001-07:00

After four straight days of golf I find myself with one complaint: This is not a sport that allows or accepts natural reactions. For example, throughout my athletic career I was always allowed to express my frustration and anger while playing the sport. If I was playing lacrosse it was completely acceptable for me to run down my opponent, wildly check at their body and cause mild bodily harm. If I was playing basketball no one cared if I flagrantly fouled a chick as she drove the ball down the paint. And if I was playing tennis no one really minded if I launched a ball over the fence.

Now with golf - it's a completely different story. Hit a bad drive and all you've got is a head down in shame, a rough grabbing of your tee and crestfallen walk back to the cart. Does this help you feel better about slicing your ball into the water? Absolutely not. Try chunking a ball 100 yards away from the green. All I find I can do is yell incoherent noises at the ground while I angrily stamp my chunk of grass back into the fairway. Again, this does nothing to relieve my frustration.

So, here's what I suggest. As soon as you hit a bad drive you are given one swing at a clown, who stands there watching and waiting for you to release your pent up anger about your crappy shot. Why a clown? Because everyone out on the golf course seems to be having a great time, and as you watch your ball disappear into a ravine, the only thing that's going to make it better is if one other person isn't smiling. My second suggestion is to allow more throwing of clubs. I really think this could go a long way. (pun intended) Honestly, let's say in the game of golf you get one traditional score and one score based on how far you are able to launch your club down the fairway, or how close you can fling your putter to the cart. Can you imagine how fun this would be? It would be like golf meets javelin throwing.

And lastly, may I suggest a little less Masters and little more Happy Gilmore. Honestly, the lack of celebration in golf is killing me. When I scored a goal in lacrosse we used jump up and down screaming in a pack. Now when I hit a long put in golf I just nonchalantly walk over to the cup and retrieve my ball. No one likes this...especially me. Instead, I wish it was acceptable to ride your putter like a horse around the green, shouting, "Whoop, there it is!" as you swing your visor around like a cowboy hat. Or if you hit a great drive I wish it was totally cool to slide into the grass as your golfing buddy slid next to you and raised arms in victory. Honestly, I need something because this game is way too buttoned up for me.

Accidents and Idiots

2011-09-25T19:01:00.001-07:00

A few hours ago the husband and I returned from a golf trip to St. George, Utah. As we were approaching the 10 from I-15, we were stopped by an accident. Being that we live in an area with a very high concentration of traffic, accidents on the highway are, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence. However frequent these accidents are, I will never understand three things: 1. Why idiots, who drive these incredibly busy highways every day, still continue to be complete morons and cause these accidents? Two, why, why, why can't someone invent a machine that pulls up all the cars involved in the accident and MOVE THEM to the side of the road? Instead, we get to sit in three hours of traffic while Hector from West Covina argues with Malibu Mom about his broken bumper in the middle lane.

And lastly, why must you morons, who were not involved in the accident, drive five miles an hour as you pass by the scene of carnage? Are you hoping to see a dead body? Are you thinking in that ten second drive by you will be able to assess the situation and testify later, when of course you are called for your testimony, as to who was at fault and who was not? Or are you trying to find the idiot, who caused the accident, so you can add one more look of disapproval to their already stellar day? (Because that's what I'm trying to do.)

Honestly, all of you who faithfully read this blog, promise me, if you come across an accident, that is being fully taken care of, press on your accelerator and fight the urge to look. You'll be a better person for it...unless you find the idiot who was texting and caused the whole thing. Then find him, stare him down and shake your head in disappointment.

And the Bed Making War Begins

2011-09-15T15:51:00.000-07:00

Last night I complained to the husband about his lack of bed making skills. I informed him, that as the last person to get up, it was his responsibility to make the bed. I came home today from work and found the following...
On the phone he informed me that he made his part and that I'm the one lacking in my own bed making skills. Damn lawyers and their technicalities.

My Angry Egg

2011-09-12T17:17:00.000-07:00

For the past couple of weeks I've been watching the U.S. Open which has caused me to reflect on my own short tennis career when I was a young girl. Many of you might not know this, but at 12 years old I was ranked #1 in Delaware for girls 12 and under AND #1 for girls 14 and under. Now, before you ask why I'm not currently playing on the tour, let me explain a few things. One, there were three of us under 12, who played tournaments, and there were like two other kids under 14. So, if you won a tournament or happened to beat 2 of the random kids under 14, you got to be the reigning champ of Delaware. Yeah, I said Delaware. So, that's what I did.

Second of all, I really should have been tested for some type of growth hormone or steroid use. You see, at 12 years old I was basically a grown woman. Honestly, I think since that age I've gained about ten pounds and grew about 2 inches. So, again the vast competitors of Delaware had no chance against my freak of nature strength and size. (As did the poor boys I attempted to have crushes on in middle school. To this day, I think most of them held my hand due to sheer fear.)

Anyway, outside of this horrible attempt at a humble brag, my experience with tennis growing up was pretty funny. There was one chick, who looked like an angry egg, I always had to play in the finals of every freaking tournament. Honestly, in my memory she's just this round and unemotional blob. She would never say anything except grunt an occasional "out" when she needed a point, and when I fought her to prove it, she would attempt to shrug, but being that she was a rounded egg, shrugging was difficult, so after a few minutes of me ranting she somehow would just move on to the next point without really resolving anything. Eventually, I stop fighting her bad calls. I mean, watching that attempt to show emotion through her shoulders was just too much for me at that age.

The other ridiculous part of this chick was the fact that her entire family used to come out and see her play. I remember they would bring coolers and umbrellas and fill up an entire bleacher. On the other hand, I never let my family come see me play. I guess I sort of knew in my heart that my "matches" were really just glorified ping pong games, and I loved my parents too much to submit them to endless hours of boring rallies. Man, I hated that family of angry eggs. I remember one time after hitting a pretty decent shot, I said out loud, "You got this Kate," to which they replied, "No you don't Kate." Who uses a 12 year old's name to talk trash at a junior tennis tournament? I'll tell you who - the angry eggs.

Well, I wish I could tell you that after my #1 reign I continued with tennis, but unfortunately, at 13, scarred from Monica Seles's stabbing, I decided to give up tennis and start playing team sports. My only regret is that I wasn't able to ever see the angry egg crack and show some emotion. I sometimes think of her and wonder what she is doing. I wonder if she drives around my neighborhood and writes tickets all day. They seem to have no emotion. Or I wonder if she euthanizes animals because that would definitely require no feelings. Or maybe she works in security at LAX and is the one that sits poker face in front of the x-ray machine as your bags go by. Again, another job that her lack of emotions would be great for.

Anyway, if you are out there, angry egg, give me a grunt and let's play another never ending game...

It Was The Car's Fault

2011-09-11T17:06:00.001-07:00

The other day I walked out and found that someone had deliberately thrown a milkshake onto my car. As I stood there studying the ice cream, that was now crusted over my windshield wipers and headlights, I wondered what had possessed someone to commit such vandalism. Was it just a case of jealousy of my 2003 Honda Accord, that sports scratches from multiple keys along the sides of the car, a busted front bumper and the classic splattering of bird feces on the roof? Was my car just in the wrong place when someone went from enjoying a nice milkshake to learning their boyfriend has been cheating on them with their best friend and everyone knew it but them, and they just found out through a mistaken text that was sent from her boyfriend? Or did my last European customers, who pretended not to speak English, really understood me when I said, "I wish all of you a safe a happy trip home as your plane crashes into the Atlantic?" after I found out they weren't going to tip me? So many possibilities...who can know?

So, 2003 Honda Accord owners beware. You aren't just driving a fuel efficient car, you are driving a dangerous and anger provoking machine.

The Grocery Store: A Place of Food, Idiocy and Cat Camping

2011-08-29T16:57:00.000-07:00

Waiting in line at the grocery store is an interesting experience. First, and I don't know about your local grocery store, but mine is staffed by three people and there is always twenty people at each line. So, already it's an awesome experience.

Secondly, I don't think people fully understand the "express lane." I'm not even sure they can count or understand the word express. I swear, every time I'm just buying milk some genius in front of me has 26 items and has decided to pay with a check. All I can do is give them a cold stare as they look at me, as they attempt to place their over the limit items on the smaller conveyer belt, and say with their eyes, "Oh, I know what you are thinking, but these twenty tomatoes actually count as 1 item, so I'm technically okay." Really? Because when we get out to the parking lot, I'm going to take my 1 car and quickly, no in an express manner, into your 2 legs.

Lastly, what is the deal with what people buy at the grocery store. Today a guy in front of me bought kitty litter, a pineapple, soda, waffles and beef jerky. Is this guy taking a cat camping? Or is he in the middle of a random quickfire challenge on Top Chef? Too hard to tell.

Flashbacks

2011-08-28T17:40:00.000-07:00

My junior year in college I lived in a house with eleven of my teammates. Yep, you read that right - 11. This house exuded craziness. How crazy? Well, try these on:

1. After a week straight of partying, to kick off the new year, of course, a few cops stopped by to regulate the madness. After a short conversation, one of the cops got the number of my roommate (who he started dating) and the other cop started to party with everyone. From that point on we had constant back up and no reports of disturbances were ever responded to.

2. Another roommate of mine decided each night she was drunk she would steal something. Consequently, by Christmas break we had a deck full of bar stools, rocking chairs from our neighbors, signs and plants.

3. At least once a week a night of fun turned into a night of "gooning out." For those of you not blessed with the opportunity to go to school with meat heads, "gooning out" entails getting blitzed and then destroying everything in sight. Therefore, each week we had either a bench (that had been stolen the week before) thrown through our door, a couch thrown out onto the road or a window just bashed in. There's nothing more fun that hearing the sound of broken glass and then the yell from a barbarian. Man, I miss college.

Okay, enough down memory lane. The reason I bring up these memories is because I thought, at 32, living in an apartment with my husband would be much simpler than it was in college, but I was wrong. For the past week I feel like I've been trapped in a bad time warp.

For example, on Monday some idiot, at 2 in the morning, started throwing glass bottles onto the road outside my apartment. Now as if this wasn't bad enough, I then got to hear cars go over the glass, stop, yell at the guy to stop, him yell back and then more glass thrown. (Now that I think about it, I wonder if I went to college with this guy. It's just so hard to cut the gooning habit.)

On Tuesday, and I'm not kidding, some lady was heard screaming, "Help, Help!" in an alley just outside my apartment. We then all got to sit in our beds and listen to her run, scream some more for help and then go silent. To be honest, after being awoken the second night in a row, I don't know what bothered me more, her being potentially killed outside my apartment, or the fact that some neighbor across the street kept yelling, "Are you there? I called the cops. Are you there? Hello." Lady, no one answered. Not our chair, not our problem.

And lastly, after being awoken up by some muscle car that just couldn't turn over (thank heavens the person tried ten times) I heard the familiar laughter and stumbling of a drunk chick outside my apartment. I listened to them for awhile and prayed they would move on, but it continued. Finally, I got out of bed and looked through the window just in time to see one of them attempting to go number uno in our bushes. That was it. Immediately, I went into college Kate mode (this means I either call the cops on my own house, or head out to the situation to yell at anyone I can find) - I chose the latter. So, there I was, old Duke t-shirt, pajama pants and hair everywhere, ready to fight, but as I rounded the corner to our lobby I found three drunk chicks, one clueless guy and a naked girl. Yeah, a naked girl. All of them looked at me, and immediately said, "Oh sorry, it's a batchelorette party and she, pointing to the naked one, had to go swimming in the ocean." I was completely dumbfounded. So, all I said was, "Oh, congrats. Well, night." Night? Congrats? Have I really been out of college that long that I couldn't come up with at least a decent lecture or raised voice? How about a disapproving face? Nothing. All those years of training and now look at me. Pathetic.

*The picture is what I should have done.

Be Honest

2011-08-22T21:24:00.000-07:00

(The coordinated ones. I usually surround myself with them. It's part of my contract.)

A few weeks ago I was Utah running a lacrosse camp. After almost 16 years of running sport camps I find that I have mixed emotions about them. One, I think it's great that kids go to camp. I mean, if kids don't go, I don't get paid...I mean, kids don't learn and get better. And yet, two, I just wish there was a screening process prior to sport camps. You know a little agility course they have to complete in a certain amount of time. Or they have to send in a tape of them running and then we can determine if there is any athletic ability at all. You know, something. Because honestly, this floodgate of minivans packed with overpaid sticks, cleats, clothes and uncoordinated children has got to be curbed.

For example, after the first day of lacrosse camp I surveyed my motley crew of campers and this is what I found:

3 Girls wearing deeply chaffing jean shorts with soccer cleats and Justin Bieber T-Shirts. 3. Yes, 3 different sets of parents allowed this attire for camp. Not acceptable.
5 Girls never put their hair up in a ponytail, but awkwardly ran around the field with unkempt manes. I'm sorry, you are not an athlete if you think running around like Pocahontas is a good idea.
2 Girls were forced to sit out for the afternoon because they had hurt themselves during lunch while they were playing "catch." (They were throwing to each other. That means one got hit in the face, cried about it and then hit her friend in the face.) Not acceptable.

And finally...

1 girl was riding her lacrosse stick around the field like a broomstick. (Hey Hermione, Gryffindor called and wanted to know when you were headed back to Hogsworth.) (So, outed myself just then.)

Anyway, as I always say after running lacrosse camps: Parents, please, please take a good look at that kid of yours. Be honest. Be brutally honest. Are they coordinated? Are they wearing jean shorts? Should they be at a camp involving balls? Answer these and save us all some time.

I Don't Get Paid Enough

2011-08-14T20:54:00.001-07:00

Do people even check this anymore?

Well, after two years plus of serving at a restaurant I thought I had seen it all...and then Thursday morning took place. If you are eating please stop. If you have a delicate stomach stop reading. Okay let's continue.

At 8:30 in the morning, there were two individuals sitting on the patio of our restaurant. After refilling my customer's coffee I turned the corner of the patio to check on my co-worker's customer. As I approached her table I noticed she had placed her credit card in the server book to be run. Now, let me state that this woman was on the phone and had her back to me. As I approached her table I began to ask, "Would you like me to run this card for you?" At the exact moment I was reaching for the book, this lady lifted up her derriere and proceeded to loudly fart on me. Now, words cannot adequately express the horror I felt as our eyes locked while she released her morning gas all over me. (It was like looking into the face of the Devil. You want to run, but your body just won't work.)

After a few awkward seconds, I regained the control of my body and ran for the door of the restaurant. Once inside, I tried to find acid, lighter fluid, gasoline - anything that I could use to burn my throat and eyes. I could NOT believe some lady, that looked like my dear mother, had lifted up her butt cheek and farted on me! Now, I've cleaned up mashed bananas underneath a table, I've pulled hair out of food and I've reached into the trash of discarded food to save a spoon, but this...this...this was on another level.

So, what have I learned from this experience? 1. Always make myself known in all situations. I might even start screaming, "Hey, coming around the corner. Hold in all anal acoustics* and other bodily disasters until I've passed." 2. Try to block out my co-workers' responses. One said, "I mean, that's okay at home or in your car, but not at a public restaurant." Okay? No, that's not okay. Or this one: "I mean, I do it in here (meaning the restaurant) but it's loud with music." (Mind you, I don't walk behind this person anymore.) and 3. If I hear a funny noise on the phone I'm no longer believing when the other person says, "Oh, that was weird, my phone just made a weird noise." Right. Who farts while on the phone?

Again, so glad my college degree from Duke is going to good use.

* I found that description at: http://www.heptune.com/fartword.html

What? I'm Dehydrated.

2011-07-20T22:06:00.000-07:00

I find when I'm really tired towards the end of my shift at work I start making really, I mean really, bad jokes. Here's a few I've made in the past few days. You tell me if I deserved a tip:

Situation 1:
I'm clearing the table of four people. As I get to the Asian man's plate of tacos I say, "Well, I can tell you didn't like this." (This is one of the jokes I say at the end of meals to get a cheap laugh, and what also makes me silently hate myself.) Anyway, the plate was virtually clear except for a few pieces of rice. So, he responded with, "Well, I didn't finish my rice but the rest was very good." And I said, "Oh yeah rice, you have probably never had this food. I'm sure it must be exciting trying it." So folks did the racial slur deserve a tip?

Situation 2:
Guy sits down and seems like he's in a bad mood. I say, "Well, how are you doing today?" He grumbles out, "Well, I just got my prostate checked." And I say, without thinking, "Do you want a second opinion?" Belittling a possible cancer victim? How much on that tip?

Situation 3:
Four old people sit down for lunch. After I shout out my welcome, three of them order alcohol. As the fourth one tells me he doesn't want anything to drink I say, "So are you the driver for these drunks?" Immediately, all the hearing aids go off and the woman, who ordered a beer, says, "You think I look drunk?" (So hard to resist.) And I say, "I saw you walking in and it looked like you were about to fall." Ah yes, insulting the old. Definitely worth the lack of tip.

What can I say, when I'm dehydrated all sensors get turned off.

Grossly Under Qualified

2011-07-19T16:30:00.001-07:00

As I mentioned before I'm in charge of a youth camp for my church. And as I mentioned before, I am grossly under qualified for this job. I mean, let's break this down. This is a religious focused camp, where singing of cheezy camp songs are encouraged, crafts are demanded and gobs and gobs of food are provided. Okay I'll take the food, and there are days I would call myself "religious," but all mixed together in the woods just isn't me. Honestly, as I've been planning this I keep thinking, "(yes, I think in quotations) Me? Really?"

The other night my "fish out of water" mentality came blaring out as I sat at a table with five other women, who are planning another camp at our same campsite. We had met to coordinate...blah, blah - and in the course of talking about our themes and individual camps the following conversation took place:

Old Lady: "So, we are going to try to do away with pranks this year. For the past two years things have really gotten out of control."

Kate: (Ears perk up for some stories)

Old Lady #2: "Yes, two years ago was awful. One of the girls found a bra of a leader and put it up the flag pole."

Kate: (While laughing out loud) "That's funny."

Old Lady #1: (While Kate is laughing) "That's not funny."

Kate: "Yes, that's what I meant. NOT funny."

Old Lady #1 and #2: (Disapproving looks)

After that exchange I thought, "(yep, more quotations) Well, things can't get worse." And then Old Lady #1 said, while looking at me, "And please don't let the girls drive the golf carts." I may or may not have commandeered a golf cart last year and allowed my 12 year olds to drive it.

See? Why me?

This Is The Group

2011-07-18T17:04:00.000-07:00

Well isn't this embarrassing. Almost a month and nothing. Well it's been a rather busy month - so for the next week you'll be reading (because I still believe there are two or three people out there who still read this stupid thing) random thoughts and ideas I've written down to blog about on my phone. (Yes, I keep a memo entitled "Blog Ideas" - folks, this magic doesn't just happen on a whim.)

Monday's Random Thought:
So, last week the significant other and I traveled to South Carolina for a little family vacation. After a dreadful red eye - I say "dreadful" because the hubby decided to take nyquil before the flight. Now, this would have been a good idea, but he decided to take the mind numbing drug right after dinner, which was two hours before our flight. Therefore, I got the fun experience of dragging our bags through bag check and nudging him to stay awake. The good news was everything was funny to him - I mean everything - my face, me dragging bags, entering the airport, dogs in suitcases...everything - AND he slept like a dead person the whole way there. Me? I did the head bob for an hour and ended up watching some Tyler Perry movie. (Why can't we all have a large man/woman in our lives to solve our problems?)

Anyway, after our red eye we had a four hour layover in Atlanta. While I was waiting for our plane I surveyed the crowd, who were also waiting for our flight, and had this random thought: So this is the group. This is the group I'll have a near death experience with. This is the group I'll land on a deserted island with and build shacks out of leaves and pieces of our plane. I'll befriend the fat man with the Eagles' jersey because we are both from Philly and long to go home. This is the group who will fight over the small amount of food left in the morning, and who will somehow become friends again at night as things slow down and music plays. This is the group who will try to build boats to freedom and deliver the baby of the girl sitting next to me. This is the group who will become my family as people search for Delta flight 702. This is the group.

Honestly, since watching Lost I have this thought every time I fly. Some flights I'm sort of excited (I once flew with a men's soccer team from Colorado) and other times I'm a little worried/disappointed (like my flight from LA to Boise which carried a fanatical group of Disney lovers - Disney lovers are not going to be able to fight the black smoke.)

We Were Robbed

2011-06-28T20:49:00.001-07:00

A few weeks back, I was involved in organizing a Speech Festival for the youth of my church - which basically entailed about 40 kids writing their own talks, giving them and then being judged on their content and delivery. Now in theory I'm sure this seemed like a great idea. However, I was put in charge of 6 kids, who I wouldn't describe as little Anthony Robbins...heck, these kids' stage presence made Kristen Stewart, of the fascinating books Twilight, seem incredibly engaging and gregarious. But, I was given the task and so we pressed forward.

Over the course of a few weeks I took the most awkward one of the bunch and became determined that she would be the victor of our 6 and go on to the main Speech Festival...which she did. (High fives around). Now, before I go on, let me just describe my sweet Autumn. She is shy beyond description. Before giving this talk I'm not sure I ever heard her speak more than two sentences at a time, and yet, she somehow nailed it. So, fast forward two weeks, Autumn, after being coaxed and bribed, was sent to the main Speech Festival to compete against six other churches' winners to determine the ultimate speech giver...and to win 2 free movie tickets!

Now, Autumn is not my child and I'm not even a mom, but I'll admit I sort of got into "Mom Mode" watching this speech festival. For example, and I'm not sure moms actually do this, or even admit to doing it, but I truly wanted to see all the other kids fail. I mean truly fail. Every time a kid stuttered, forgot a line from their talk or made an awkward statement I found myself thinking, "Alright, this one sucks - we totally got this."

Secondly, when Autumn got up to speak I felt like one of those crazy moms from the TLC show Toddlers and Tiaras. (See picture up top. Yeah, that would be wire cones on her little girl.) Honestly, if you could have seen me, I was almost mouthing the words and smiling in that way that says, "If you make eye contact with me, I'm trying to tell you to smile bigger." It wasn't pretty.

And lastly, I'll admit I sort of behaved poorly as we were waiting for the verdict. I, may or may not have, told some of the judges Autumn's background and how winning this could help her conquer her shyness, and the fact that she is waiting for a kidney transplant. (She doesn't actually need a kidney, but I thought it painted a courageous picture.)

Unfortunately, at the end Autumn was robbed. She did manage to take down Barack Obama Jr. and hippie happy 17 year old from Malibu, but second place was where she stood....and I, may or may not, have said rather loud, "We were robbed," over and over again when the winner was announced.

So, what did I get from this experience? Well, one you can conquer fears. Two, we have some great youth coming up as the next generation. And three, I think I'm going to be that annoying Mom on the sidelines,who runs up and down screaming, "Billy get the ball! Get the ball! You got it! Score! He scored! That's my kid! That's my kid! That's my...oh geez.

Write With Some Pride

2011-06-21T22:13:00.001-07:00

The restaurant I work at serves three groups of people: 1. Moms and their children 2. People in the business and 3. People, who come in at 8 with their laptops and write the next great screenplay until 4. I enjoy the last group for two reasons. (Yes, I'm going to keep listing things.) One, they are always game to talk because, heaven knows, they aren't possibly getting anything done as they suck down their fifteenth free cup of coffee and hide from my nasty stare for taking up a table in my section. And two, I love their answers to my favorite question: "So, what are you writing?" For example, I was once told by an individual, who comes in EVERY DAY, that he's writing the next Sex In the City for men. Why do I love this answer? Because if you could picture anyone more unsuited to write about sexual conquests and adventures in any city on the planet this would be your guy. I really think instructional manuals on microwaves could be more of this guy's expertise.

Another person once told me that he was writing a comedy. Now, again like our Mr. Carrie Bradshaw, this guy writing a comedy just didn't fit. For one, I've never seen him smile. I don't even know how this guy chews because I've never seen his teeth. I wanted to follow-up his answer with the question, "Does your comedy include torturing kittens and beating children?"

And lastly, my favorite answer came today. For the past couple of weeks a writing team has been camping out at our restaurant furiously typing away on a laptop. I decided to finally ask them what they were writing, and they replied they were writing a romantic comedy. Now, I'll admit I'm sort of a fan of this genre and they both struck me as rather normal people, so I then asked, "Have you guys written anything before? and they replied with a meek voice, "Um, we wrote The Wedding Planner with Jennifer Lopez." I think I loved this reply the most because there was absolutely no pride in their admitting they wrote The Wedding Planner, and as I continued to maintain eye contact, they both put their heads down in shame and said (and I quote as they pointed to their laptops) "But, this one won't be like that."

I know, I know what you are thinking: Why the shame in such a cinematic masterpiece? Why didn't they hold their heads up high and ask, "Did you see them getting together at the end? How about him leaving his own wedding to get her? HIS OWN WEDDING??!! We are freaking geniuses!" Instead, there was just apologies.

Come on you laptop campers, write with some dignity. Write what you know. Write stuff we want to see...and tip your waitress, she's trying to make a living too.

I Had A Day Off Today

2011-06-08T21:06:00.001-07:00

That's Enough

2011-06-08T08:17:00.000-07:00

After watching The Bachelorette on Monday night I came to one conclusion: People from Utah, because everyone assumes they're Mormon, and real Mormons, must stop going on reality TV shows. Honestly, as a practicing Mormon, I beg these idiots to stop and think about how their actions cause serious consequences for the rest of us. For example, do you remember Julie from MTV's Real World: New Orleans? Now, I'm taught at church to love all God's creatures, but she was one of the worst individuals I've ever come across. During the first episode Julie started to hysterically cry because her black roommate was the first person of another race she had ever interacted with. As she sat there crying, my college roommate turned to me and asked, "So, Mormons are all white? And you guys aren't allowed to 'interact' with black people?" Thanks Julie for that stupid conversation.

And now we have Bentley Williams of The Bachelorette behaving like a complete (insert something about a bag here.) Just for fun, I decided to Google Mr. Williams and you know what I found? Several articles discussing two things: 1. What an unbelievable jerk this guy is and 2. Yep, you guessed it, the fact that he's a Mormon.

So, listen up you Mormons out there, find another hobby. Keep eating in your living rooms (about 15 Mormons have been on The Biggest Loser), keep dancing in your basements (another five or so have been on dancing reality shows) and stop being totally crazy on TV.

Oh, and if you are Ken Jennings, the guy who holds the record for the longest winning streak on Jeopardy!, feel free to go on TV. Honestly, during those 75 episodes I really thought we were finally erasing the damage done by so many idiots.

20 Cents To Lose

2011-06-05T21:14:00.001-07:00

After working at a restaurant for two years, I've come to hate three things. One, I hate stupid parents. You know who you are. You are the ones who come in with two or more kids and decide, that since you are leaving a six dollar tip, it's okay to absolutely destroy the place...and then leave. Did you know that when your kid throws his food on the ground someone (me) actually has to clean that up? Or did you know that a napkin used to clean up snot, spilled milk and whatever else you decide to leave behind actually has to be touched by someone (me)? Honestly, I get it. I'm not a parent, but even I know it's not okay to watch your child throw his drink on the ground, and then say to your server (me), "Um, you missed a spot of milk over there."

TWO, I hate the "menu changers." Again, you know who you are. You are the ones who see that we have turkey, tomatoes and tofu on our menu and decide to create your own sandwich out of those ingredients. Hey, guest judge this isn't a quickfire challenge on Top Chef - order from the menu!

And THREE, more than anything else, I hate foreigners. If I hear an accent my attitude instantly goes from, Curly McLain singing "Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'" to Michael Jackson singing "Beat It." Why all the anger? Well, for one they never, ever, never order from the menu. It's always do you have...(insert their homeland food.) Second, there are the most demanding little foreign friends. First they want an espresso, but then that's too hot, now they want some cold milk, oh but the milk is too cold, please heat it up. (Mind you, our restaurant is quite long, and all these requests add up to fifty yards each way.)

And lastly, after all the accommodations and running around they don't leave a tip. It absolutely drives me nuts. So, finally last Thursday I snapped. After watching a particular foreign couple come in three days in a row, and three days in a row screw my co-worker, I decided this needed to stop. So, the following took place:

Kate: (While handing them the check) So have you guys been to America before?

Foreigners: (While sipping on their third espresso and just right milk) Um, yes wes love ze country. Wez been here a many times.

Kate: Oh, wow like how many times?

Foreigners: Let me see. We been to, uh, New York and Miami and to California many times.

Kate: Wow. So, do you understand the tipping policies of America?

Foreigners: Yes, we have been leaving zomething.

Kate: Not really. You see today your bill is 28 dollars so you can tip anything from $4.50 to $6.00. You have been leaving 20 cents or 17 cents. (Their tips from the previous days.) That is not 15%, which is the typical practice in America.

Foreigners: We did not sthink it applied to breakfast.

Kate: Well, anytime someone comes to your table to serve you - then you may tip them. Do you understand?

Foreigners: (starting to forget English) Um, oui.

And the tip was?...$4.00. Figured I only had 20 cents to lose.

Satan's Game

2011-05-31T17:11:00.000-07:00

So, in a few weeks the husband and I will be traveling to South Carolina to celebrate my Dad's 70th birthday. While there, we plan on laying at the beach, eating ridiculous amounts of food, playing a little tennis and, if I'm ready, playing golf. Now, for those of you, who haven't had the opportunity of being tortured and belittled by a small dimpled ball, let me tell you a little secret - golf sucks. It sucks bad. It makes you question every coordinated day you've ever had in your life. It makes you wonder if anyone is up there in heaven or if Satan is really in control - and just to show his control he makes people play golf. It's such a hard sport, that even me, a rather strong willed woman, can sort of look past Tiger Woods' transgressions because he is able to hit this small ball into a hole. Honestly, people, his man can't be all bad.

So, why do I attempt to play this sport? One, because I once hit a hole in one and that's just too bad A to not continue. Two, people say you can play this sport until you die. (Sure, I think this sport will actually kill you, but we'll see.) And three, because after chunking 100 shots, slicing the other twenty and missing too many puts to count, you hit one forsaken good shot and you think, "This sport isn't all bad."*

So, wish me luck - I've got four weeks to master this game. And just so you know, if my golf lessons don't start producing some results I'm going the pre-Thanksgiving/scandal Tiger route. Don't judge, it's not love, it's just about being a better golfer.

*Lies, lies, lies.

My Memorial Day

2011-05-30T18:23:00.001-07:00

What does Memorial Day mean to you? Is it about the selfless men and women who gave their lives to protect our country? Is it a day to barbecue, drink or drive to Santa Monica so you can overrun a beach that is already packed with foreigners and tourists? Or is it a day to visit cemeteries and remember those past generations?

Well, for me, Memorial Day will always hold the special memory I was given by a rather loveable customer today. No, he didn't give me a minature flag and say, "God Bless America." Instead, while balancing six tables' orders, he said, "Kate, come on be honest, do you have something to tell me?" I, thinking I had forgotten to thank him for his service in the Korean war, was about to say, "Oh yeah, thanks for beating down those Koreans. We wouldn't be the same without it," when he interrupted my thoughts and said, "You know, because you look really fat."

Now, granted this came from a man who smells like Irish Spring soap and someone who has been dead for two weeks, but I'll admit it, it sort of ticked me off. I mean, it's a holiday. Save that stuff for the middle of the week.

The Clydesdale and the Shetland Pony

2011-05-24T20:21:00.000-07:00

This weekend The Man and I traveled to St. Jorge for a little family time andddd...to see two young men participate in a Triathlon. Here's a few pictures of the event.

I begin with this picture because I love The Man's uniform pre-event. It doesn't matter if he's running a marathon, biking a century or doing a Triathlon - jeans are always his choice of attire to enter the ring. I really think Levi should think about expanding its clothing lines into warm-ups suits for professional athletes.
Can you feel the tension? The male torpedo is just about to enter the water.
Once the male torpedo was off, The Man's bro (or The Clydesdale as we like to call him) got in line to enter the water. Unlike The Man's two layers of wet suit, rash guard and biking shorts, The Clydesdale entered the "widow maker," or the swim, a "little less clothed."

To the left The Clydesdale finishing the swim, to the right The Man coming in from the 20.5 mile ride and...

behind the camera one woman going insane with this kid rattling a cow bell for 45 minutes straight. (Yeah, I took her picture.)

After a mile swim, a 20.5 mile bike ride and a 6.5 mile run the Triathlon was over.

There are no words to accurately describe this.

$20.00 For A Baby?

2011-05-16T19:40:00.000-07:00

So, as we know I've been trying to get pregnant. However, my constant judging of other people's babies, my tendency to swear and the occasional stealing from work has, in my opinion, probably impeded the process. So, today I decided to summon the karma gods and finally do something right. (I realize my alternative motive probably negated my effort, but I still tried.)

Anyway, there's a guy that comes in often, who I would describe as surprisingly grumpy and rather cheap. Last week after he left, I went to clean his table and found a 20 dollar bill left on the ground. Now, after two years of serving this cheap s.o.b., I knew this wasn't a forgotten tip. So, I pocketed the twenty and wrestled with myself for the next few days on what to do.

Finally, judgement day came. As I went to get his orange juice and bran muffin, I heard the devil say, "Kate, twenty dollars could buy a dram of fertility drugs. Don't do it." And then the angel, on the other shoulder obviously, said, "Kate, give him the twenty and that baby is as good as yours." What can I say, Momma's desperate.

But here's the thing...okay, I told him about losing the twenty and how I felt like he should have it back, but the guy didn't even say thanks. He took the twenty. Just took it. No reward for being honest. No high five for "The Server of the Year." Nothing. ANNNDD...the guy still have me a crappy tip.

So, what did I learn from this? One, like The Steve Miller Band says, "Take the Money and Run." Two, karma can't be bought off with $20.00. And three, I think I need to come up with other strategies to get a baby - this approach is costing me way too much.

I Don't Sound 32?

2011-05-10T19:51:00.000-07:00

Tonight a representative from the LA Times called me to see if I would be interested in getting a subscription to the newspaper. At the time of the call I was making dinner, which consisted of a bowl of cereal, and wasn't fully speaking into the phone. Consequently, the caller asked to speak to my parents. This statement made me laugh, and while putting a spoon of cereal in my mouth, I said, "Um, I don't live with my parents." In retrospect, I don't know why I said this, but the caller responded, "Well, I'm not talking to you because you don't sound over 21." Again, I started to laugh and said, "Really? You don't think I sound over 21?" This only infuriated her and she said, "I'm going to call back when your parents answer the phone." My response, "Great! Talk to you then."

Who knew sounding like a moron or a ten year old would get rid of solicitors on the phone. I'm totally using this again. Thank you LA Times.

My Mom is Better Than Yours

2011-05-08T19:37:00.000-07:00

Being that is it Mother's Day today, I thought I would take a moment and express my love and admiration for my mom. I know people say it, but truly I have the best mom. Why? Well, here's 5 reasons:

1. Look at the woman, she's hot. 60+ and she has still got it.
2. She's hilarious. Tell her a dirty joke, or anything that involves farting, and the woman will be laughing. How can you not love that?
3. She knew that the husband was the one before I knew she was the one. So, she's smart is what I'm saying.
4. She is an AMAZING cook. (I wish that was hereditary.)
5. She always puts us kids first.

Barb, I love you. Thanks for having me and sorry about the 28 minute wait....

Unusual Brain Activity

2011-05-05T21:16:00.000-07:00

Today, for fun* I got a MRI of the brain. For those of you who haven't had the rare opportunity of being locked down inside a little body capsule, while a loud beeping noise somehow takes pictures of your brain, let me give you some tips and insights into the process. (Because, sadly, this was my second MRI of the brain.)

Tip #1:
When the technician asks you what types of head traumas you've had to warrant your first MRI, just stick with your first answer of, "I started having migraines and they wanted to know what the cause of them were." Don't add, "And sometimes I talk back to my husband." No one will laugh, at least, mine didn't.

Tip #2:
When the technician asks you if you would like to close your eyes or watch a nature video on animals, choose closing your eyes. (Yes, there was a video inside my little claustrophobic chamber.) All of the sudden I'm watching a polar bear with her cubs, and then I'm watching a wolf chase down Bambi and slaughter it. I wonder what activity they'll see in my brain as I'm screaming out, "RUNN!"

Tip #3:
Don't try to read the face of the technician after the procedure. I couldn't tell if I have six months to live or he has indigestion. Maybe he was all torn up about Bambi also.

*And when I say "fun" I mean fertility.

Stellar Police Work

2011-05-04T18:50:00.000-07:00

Dear Local Police Force,

Thank you again for my $234.00 ticket. I really appreciate the time and effort you put into turning your siren on, pulling me over like a reckless outlaw and teaching me about breaking the law.

Oh, and I also wanted to thank you for keeping my community so safe. Just the other day I saw a car being broken into and when I called to tell you, you not only didn't respond in a timely manner, but managed to call once the car was pulling away. And there was the stealing of my bike from my own garage. I'll admit I had that coming. I mean, that bike could run more stop signs. Thank goodness that got stolen. And then how I look back on fondness, the time we found my husband's car broken into and my Ipod stolen. How you dusted that car for fingerprint....oh wait. And now, I just wanted to say thank you, thank you again, for all the hard work you put in. I mean, sure on Monday night my Thule bike and surf rack was stolen, but I'm sure again, someone who runs stops signs on their bike doesn't deserve a rack to carry the dangerous bike! No!

So, thank you again, and thank goodness that at least one real criminal (me) is being punished for breaking the law.

Kate

NASCAR and CBS

2011-05-03T19:10:00.000-07:00

According to Wikipedia: NASCAR holds 17 of the top 20 attended single-day sporting events in the world, and claims 75 million fans who purchase over $3 billion in annual licensed product sales. So, who, I ask you, are all these people flocking to these events? And if there are so many people who are fans of NASCAR, and who buy items attached to NASCAR, why is there such a stigma attached to the sport of cars going round and round? I mean seriously, how come admitting you like NASCAR is like tweeting about Osama Bin Laden and saying, "@dkeller23 We’ll never know what really happened. I just have a hard time believing a plane could take a skyscraper down demolition style." (To read about this actual dummy check out this article) You just don't do it.

In addition to the mystery of NASCAR, I would like someone to explain to me, or tell me, who are all the people who watch CBS? I couldn't name you one show I've watched in entirety that airs on CBS, and yet, almost every single show in the top ten of viewership is from this network.

So, here's the only conclusion I can come to: The same mysterious people who show up and watch NASCAR, must be the same idiots who think Two and Half Men is one of the funniest shows on TV, and (insert city) CSI is just plain brilliant.

Who are you people and who is leading you?

Dentistry and Waterboarding

2011-05-02T20:30:00.000-07:00

Today, I went to the dentist. I hate the dentist. Why? Well, for one I hate the accusatory looks and questions. Like, "Well, I see you have some receding gums (which I'm already sensitive about) do you floss?" To which I answer, "Yep, every night." To which they reply, "Every night?" I then say, "Yes, every night." And then they say, while getting out the torture towel and bucket of water, "Every night?" What do these people want me to say? "Okay, there was that one Friday night when I got strangely involved into a Lifetime movie and decided swishing warm water in my mouth was going to be my nightly cleaning." Seriously.

I also hate the entire cleaning process. I hate the suction tube that always gets left in my throat, I hate the cool air on my teeth, I hate the chipping away of my tartar, and I hate the different levels of "opening one's mouth" we are all supposed to know. Like how am I supposed to know that "Please open your mouth" actually means tilt your head back and show me the inside of your esophagus? And yet, "Please open your mouth" can also mean, just slightly release your jaw muscles so I can look at your first molar. There really should be signs.

And lastly, I hate the up sale at the end. Today's up sale: some stupid scrap that removes all the bacteria that accumulates at the back of your tongue, which causes bad breathe. As I sat there telling them politely no, I started to think, "Do I have bad breathe and that's why they are trying to sell me this?" I swear this office gives me a complex every time I leave. They either convince me I have early signs of pyorrhea (google it) and if I don't start wearing a full facial head gear I'm going to lose all my teeth, or my teeth are so yellow that it's almost a crime I haven't broken down and gotten them bleached. Why can't they just say, "Teeth are still there. You can still chew. Here's a toothbrush in a little bag?"

I hate the dentist.

Celebrities Are Weird

2011-04-29T16:40:00.000-07:00

As I've mentioned before, I've had ample opportunities to see celebrities at my place of work. I've seen A-List stars like Kate Hudson, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Orlando Bloom, and I've even seen some D-List stars like, Urkel, Ed Rooney and the meathead from Can't Buy Me Love (they are such D-List stars they don't even deserve the time it would take me to look up their actual names). Now, in all these brushes with fame I've noticed a few things. One, a lot of them are tiny. For example, one of the hobbits from Lord of the Rings (not the famous one from Lost) is an actual hobbit, and Helen Hunt has huge hips but a tiny, tiny face (which is always in a permanent frown - what Soul Surfer wasn't what you envisioned after winning an Academy Award?) Secondly, I've noticed that celebrities, regardless of their status, feel like it's okay to exhibit a complete disregard for social norms on PDA. Worst offender would have to go to Kim Raver, who plays Teddy on Grey's Anatomy - who basically got on top of her husband while I was delivering their taco platter. Come on Kim, I supported the long face through 24, Lipstick Jungle and I'm even attempting to believe you can tame Yang on Grey's. Thirdly, I've noticed that if you are a celebrity it is alright to look homeless when you come to breakfast. Again, worst offenders would either be Alison Lohman, who starred in Big Fish and Flicka, (I actually told her she would have to buy something in order to use the bathroom) or Luke Wilson, who looked like he actually stole a homeless man's shirt and was wearing a beard that was eating his face.

Lastly, I've noticed that old man rockers all sport the same haircuts. What is this? Does it still make them cool to have haircuts that make them look like they just stepped off the tour bus, or that they just finished a weekend bender with Led Zeppelin? Seriously, there's this guy, probably in his late 50s, that comes in all the time (no names because I sort of love this customer, but suffice it to say, he's very legit and plays with a legend) who has the most ridiculous haircut. It's sort of a cross between Bon Jovi 1980s and Gary Busey of today. What makes his haircut even better is when he has lunch with other old time rockers. The other day, there was a whole table of grown men, some older than my dear father, who were sporting crazy highlights, hair going everywhere, and two had long stringy hair, that you could tell was just longing for the days when women actually liked to run their fingers through it. Honestly, these guys need a quick trip to reality land...and maybe Supercuts.

Oh, Here Go Hell Come

2011-04-19T19:57:00.000-07:00

Well, the verdict is in for my reckless biking. (For those of you who haven't heard I was pulled over ON MY BIKE for running a stop sign.)

Ticket Price is: $234.00
How many times I yelled, "You are a jackass Officer Knotts." - 234 times.

I will be fighting this. Until then, Redondo Beach Police Force...

32 and 3 Days

2011-04-18T20:39:00.000-07:00

So, on Friday I turned the big 32. 32. Ah, that sounds old. At least my life plan, I made for myself fifteen years ago, is working out perfectly.

1. Wearing an apron every day and asking, "Do you want bacon or sausage with that?" - Check.
2. Living in a 1 bedroom apartment with a hot guy. - Check.
3. Having no sight of children. - Check.
4. Mildly healthy gums. - Check.

(I didn't set very high standards for myself. It was the mid 90s.)

Okay, seriously my birth day (yes, two words) was awesome. And here's the pictures to prove it.

First, I woke up at 6:15 and was unable to go back to bed. I'm not sure if I was just excited for my birthday, or I'm now so old, I'm incapable of sleeping in. Do I get to start watching Matlock?

After breakfast, I read for awhile and then drove up to Malibu for a ride up in the mountains.
Here's some pictures of my ride and views. 2 Hours, 1,600 feet climbed and 3 snakes spotted.

And then, because I'm old, after my ride I got a massage. I don't know about you, but whenever I get a massage I always have two thoughts, ONE: "This feels so good that I don't even care if he beats children after work, I really think I'm in love with this man." No? Just me? TWO: "Sure, I'm in love with this man and his hands, but do I really need to tip him 50%?" (Honestly, what is that about? All over the room are signs that read: "Tipping Recommendations" - which mind you, recommend about $30.00 for a $47.00 massage. I mean, this is good, but he's not giving me the secret to life.)

Once the tipping quandary was crossed, the husband and I went to dinner at Bandera. (Please said with a creepy Spanish accent.) What can I say? I thought I had experienced my best meal last year at Mastros, but this was unbelievable. Ribs, chicken, slaw, cornbread, cobbler - my mouth is watering as I write this. Honestly, this restaurant makes me want to live to see my 33rd birthday...and become ridiculously rich, so I can casually say to the husband on Tuesday night, "Hey what about swinging over to Banderas?"

Inner Therapy

2011-04-13T16:32:00.001-07:00

I always find myself saying after a shift of work, "Well, that was it, I've seen it all." - And then, something else happens the next day. Today, I was taking the plates off one of my customer's table when she said to me, "Now this will not effect your tip in any way, but can I ask you something?" Immediately, I thought she was going to ask me something about the restaurant, so I said, "Sure." She then said, "Um, what do you think of me?" Now, I should mention that I have never met this lady before, and I really didn't spend a lot of time at her table because I was really busy, so, I replied with a confused stare. She then said, "You know, what is your impression of me?" Oh, I thought, "Thanks so much for clarifying your initial bizarre question. Now, I feel a lot less awkward answering your request."

Finally, after enduring her piercing eyes into my soul, I stumbled out a few things that I'm not proud of - remember, I work for tips. I think I said something like, "Um, you didn't seem like you were going to be difficult. A lot of customers can be difficult. Um, you seem nice. I like your hat, and you seem happy." I kept hoping she would cut me off and say, "Just kidding. I just wanted to see you make an ass of yourself," but she just stood there. Finally, I stopped complimenting random things and said, "How's that? Are you going to leave me a dollar now?" She then replied, as serious as possible, "Thank you. I'm just doing some inner therapy and I'm working on my self-image."

Only in LA.

Are You A Waitress?

2011-04-12T19:12:00.000-07:00

The other day I went to the bank to deposit about two weeks worth of tips. As I pulled out my wad of money, with almost 89 1 dollar bills included, the teller, AS ALWAYS, asked, "Are you a waitress?" Now, this is where I find myself in a joking quandary. Of course, I could just disregard the joke lob and nod my head and say, "Yep, just depositing the ol' tips," but who wants to hear that? I mean, these innocent tellers are basically begging for me to give them some fantastic responses. So, what am I to do? Disappoint my local tellers? Of course not.

The following are my favorite responses to give. (Remember readers I'm a 5"8, blue-eyed, blonde chick, who just learned about the song "Regulate" from her ghetto Fairfield friend last week.)

1. "Nope, not a waitress"...pause for a friendly chuckle..."Just the neighborhood drug dealer." Followed by asking them if they need anything for a "headache."

2. "You would think I'm a waitress, but actually I steal from collection jars around supermarkets and cafeterias." Followed by friendly chuckle and complete eye contact.

3. "Waitress? I wish. Actually, my husband gives me an allowance for cleaning the apartment, picking up his dry cleaning and cooking dinner. It's been a good month of work." Followed by uneasy chuckle and no eye contact.

4. "What did you say?!" "Yeah, whatever - just hurry up." Followed by looking over my shoulder and at all security cameras.

And lastly, my tried and true...
5. "A waitress? Almost right. I'm actually a stripper." Followed by pointing out a hundred dollar bill in the wad and saying, "He's a great customer."

Sadly, only #5 gets a laugh. What, don't I look like I could be a stripper? Geez Citibank....

Another Kitten Bites The Dust

2011-04-07T22:37:00.000-07:00

So, lately, to either torment me or to cause me to find him not attractive at all, the husband has started insisting on watching old re-runs of Star Trek at night. At first, I thought he was kidding, but the habit has persisted. Tonight, I couldn't take it and had to resort to torturing him with tickling. I know, it sounds childish, but my husband crumbles at even the mention of tickling.

So, there I was, tickling the crap out of him, when he screamed out, "I swear every time you tickle me God kills a kitten!!"

I had to stop.

Crazy Train

2011-04-03T15:31:00.000-07:00

I realize I'm a little late to the game on this movie review, but last weekend, Roger Egbert and I finally rented Unstoppable. (Just in time before it started showing weekly on FX.) Now, I realize that many people found this movie to be "Exciting" and "Grabbed our attention and didn't let us go for 98 nail-biting minutes of non-stop action and tension..." (as said by Louise Keller of Urban Cenfile), but I'm not sure I was as "riveted and excited by the show." First of all, and not to spoil the movie for those six of you who haven't seen it, but it's a train. Just a train going fast without a driver. I wouldn't call that non-stop action. If anything it's just non-stop stupidity watching this train move along because a fat idiot couldn't run fast enough to stop the train from starting in the first place. Now had a diabolical terrorist sent the train down the track, laced with explosives and threw in some fifth grade kids into the caboose, I would have had a little more "tension" watching this.

Second of all, the attempts of stopping this train were just plain ridiculous. Roger had an especially hard time with this aspect of the movie. I think he shouted a total of seven times, "This is so stupid, just put some people on the train and they'll stop it." (Spoiler alert: That's what happened...well, after they tried to shoot at the emergency brake button - which was, of course, right next to the fuel button. You CAN'T write more high tension stuff than this.)

And lastly, my problem with this movie was the incredibly anti-climatic ending. Of course, I knew at some point they were going to stop the train, but watching Chris Pine pull the lever off autopilot and watching the train slow down left me feeling empty inside. There was no final fight scene between the disgruntled Amtrak employee, who wanted to kill everyone, and the rookie operator, who still believed in the integrity of the train system. Or was a new love formed after surviving such a horrifying experience. No instead, we had to watch Denzel flirt like an old man with Rosario Dawson, and Chris Pine win back the love of his wife after pulling the lever that stopped the train.

So, overall...not my favorite movie. I mean the train did stop soooo it wasn't exactly "unstoppable." Just sayin'...

I Love These Jeans...I'm Headed for the Sink

2011-03-31T22:29:00.000-07:00

The other day I was riding my bike home from work, and yes, I do now stop at every stop sign, fire a rifle, hold out some flares and then cross through the dangerous intersection - thank you Redondo Beach police force for ruining the joys of commuting on a bike - ANYWAY, sorry about that passive aggressive diatribe. What was I saying? Oh yes, I was riding my bike down Broadway, between 4th and 5th, if you local Santa Monicans were curious, when I saw a ridiculous ad for Joe's Jeans. Just how ridiculous was this ad? Well, basically it showed a strung out chick, wearing a pair of jeans and nothing on top. Now, I get the whole edgy attempt here, but the thing that bothered me the most was that she was sitting in a sink, looking at herself in the mirror. Really? Come on Joe's Jeans. What chick, who hasn't been snorting coke all morning, would decide your jeans were so cool she had, I mean had, to take off her shirt and go sit in the sink? Really? Just for that I will not be buying Joe's Jeans. I mean, my sink isn't even that big.

The Dos and Don'ts of Winking

2011-03-28T19:43:00.000-07:00

So what are your feelings on winking? Good? Bad? Sort of creepy? Here's my guidelines:

Okay Winking:
1. Indicating to someone you are murdering them in the fun filled game of "Murder."*
2. If you are over the age of 80 and are actually Santa Claus dressed up as a normal old man.
3. If you have a glass eye, which prevents you from blinking both eyes together.
4. If, while making fun of someone, they start to believe you and tear up, an immediate wink is absolutely acceptable. (I've been caught in this situation many times. Too many times.)
5. If you were the star of any 80s hair band. (Somehow I just expect Bret Michaels and Sebastian Bach to use winks in an appropriate manner - like right after they say - and mean it - "You're sayin' my love won't do yeah
But that ain't love written on your face
Well honey I can see right through yeah
Yeah who's on who at the end of the race." Truly poetic.

Not Okay Winking:
1. When someone says, "Try the soup. I always put a secret ingredient in it that may or may not taste like the sweat I rubbed off my dog."
2. When someone comes in and asks for an application and when you give it to them they say "thanks" and then wink at you. Really, a wink? That's going to make me disregard the fact that in the column "Crime Record" you are a registered sex offender? (The first part really happened. The second part I just guessed.)
3. If you are over 65, wearing old man spandex shorts and a fanny pack, please don't wink at me as I bring you your 1 freaking pancake and refresh the coffee you brought in from Starbucks. (The catalyst for writing this entry.)
4. At a pirate. That's just mean. He can't properly respond.
5. If you are a 2012 presidential hopeful from Alaska.

*Who decided turning murder into a fun game? I suppose the same ones who decided throwing playground balls at weak kids would be fun. "Hey kids, run outside and play some murderball."

Shuhhhh

2011-03-27T14:35:00.000-07:00

So, did anyone hear a rather large woman singing? Or did a pack of pigs fly over your house? Or did hell actually freeze over because yesterday something happened to me that can only be described by Wayne Cambell as, "Shuh, and monkeys might fly out of my butt." (Translation: what the...?) Enough build up?

Okay, in two weeks my sister and I are going to ride another century ride in St. George, so yesterday I went out for a 70 mile ride. At about mile 40, the skies opened up and it started to pour. For awhile I tried to keep my glasses on because getting pelted with rain at 30 miles an hour really hurts, but eventually, the rain and the steam, coming from my face, was making it so I couldn't see anything. So, once I navigated a busy street of potholes, suburbans and puddles I took my glasses off and tried to find somewhere to store them. Unfortunately, as I was fiddling with my glasses and trying to bear the rain I managed to run through a few stop signs. Now, in my defense these stop signs are about an half a block apart and there was no one on the road. AND if a car had been there I would have stopped. (I'm usually a very safe rider. I promise David Pulsipher.) Anyway, as soon as I propped my glasses into my helmet I heard a siren and turned to find a police officer behind me.

Immediately, I stopped my bike and waited for the gestapo (That's what my mom calls them because of their ridiculous boots.) to get out of his car to arrest me for selling cocain...oh wait, I'M ON A FREAKING BIKE! Anyway, after explaining my glasses debacle, my attempts to "slow down at intersections," and even a brief attempt at begging I was given a ticket for running a stop sign. I have to admit I sort of missed Mexico at that moment. Had I been there I would have just given the officer five bucks, a packet of Gu and promised to not tell anyone.

S0, what I have learned? Um, well...wait there's got to be something here...Oh yeah, I just wanted to thank all the police officers out there that are doing such a great job at protecting us and fighting crime. I really appreciated the time they took to find the perpetrators, who stole my my bike from my garage, and who spent countless hours tracking down the thugs that broke my husband's car door to steal my 2003 Ipod and some CDs, and that one officer, I can't remember your name now, but thank you for rushing over to my apartment when I called in and reported a car being stolen outside my window. I really appreciated you calling me and asking me, while they drove away with the stolen car, if I remembered which way they went. Just incredible police work all around. And, finally, for stopping my reckless abandonment on the bike. Had that gone unchecked...well, I don't even want to know what would have happened.

Wayne Campbell: All I have to say about that is "asphinctersayswhat".
Noah Vanderhoff: What?
Wayne Campbell: Exactly.

That's Camp Director To You

2011-03-16T19:22:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, I was named the new camp director for our church. Apparently, the first girl they chose decided her life was too "complicated" and needed someone to take over. (Because this is right up there with curing cancer.)

For those of you not of my faith, let me give you a little description of what this means. First, I have to create and coordinate a week long camp, that is semi-religious and semi-fun, for 4o girls. Second, I have to attend this camp I created, and try to maintain that semi-religious angle. And third, I have to enjoy this experience. (Actually, number three might be optional.) So, what were my thoughts on this new calling? Well, here's what was going on in my mind:

Thought 1: These people do know that last year, when I attended camp, I spent most of my time taking notes so I could sarcastically criticize and report about it on this blog when I got home?

Thought 2: My first act as camp director is going to be abolishing all camp songs and singing during the week.

Thought 3: Abolishing singing will probably ensure that this is a one time deal. Definitely going after the singing.

Thought 4: I'm definitely moving next year.

Thought 5: I'm stealing the golf cart on day 1, from the fatties of last year, who drove their carts to their camp sites and back so they didn't have to walk ten feet.

Thought 6: I can't wait to see them hold out their thumbs for a ride as I whiz by.

Thought 7: This will actually be cool.

Thought 8: Stop trying to sound all positive just so God will think you are a good person and give you a baby.

Thought 9: If I get pregnant before camp do I have to go?

Thought 10: Probably not. Crap.

Thought 11: What about naming the camp: Camp Kate? Too much...?

And yes, there will be more entries as we get closer to camp.

The above picture is the chair I plan on bringing to camp. I really want to impress upon the girls who is in charge.

Welcome To Mexico: The Scenic Tour

2011-03-15T21:13:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in my last entry, Cancun was beautiful, but "slightly dangerous." I wish I could say that my only brush with death involved the menacing Caribbean ocean, but unfortunately, the locals proved to be just as uninviting. I know what you are thinking...start the chant...story, story, story...

One day Juan (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I decided to rent a car and drive out to Chichen Itza and see some Mayan ruins. After talking to our helpful* concierge, we decided to take the scenic route through some local Cancun towns on the way to the sites. After two hours of driving over six foot speed bumps, moving at a pace of 30 km and almost hitting three stray dogs we realized our concierge was an idiot and we were idiots for listening to her. As we started to discuss how we were going to steal her Marriott uniform and burn it, a sketchy police officer, who was riding a dusty dirt bike, drove up to the side of our car and waved us to pull over. Quickly, Juan pulled the car over and the "police officer" strutted up to our car and told us we needed to follow him to the police station so he could write us a ticket. Apparently, we were speeding. (You really should have seen our rental car go at a blazing 40 km. I'm surprised we didn't end up in the future.)

Now, here's where Juan and I are different. I see a desperado on a dirt bike, carrying his Dad's revolver from the Alamo and I'm like, "Sure let's head to the police station." Juan, on the other hand, is an attorney, and as an attorney, you negotiate. So, that's what we did. After thirty seconds of arguing about heading to the police station, our "friendly" town ambassador told us to follow him down a dirt road and we could take care of the matter. Once off the main road (as seen in above picture), our corrupt cop saddled up to our car and announced we could pay $100 and walk away. Now, again, here's where Juan and I differ. I would have paid him $100 and given him my address in Santa Monica in case he wanted to take my TV and car once I got back. Juan wasn't feeling as generous. Instead, he pretended not to fully understand the guy's Spanish and claimed we didn't have that much money. Finally, after some broken Spanish back and forth Juan struck a deal with bastardo (I learned some Spanish) and paid the guy $30.00. After a secret exchange of money, our corrupt amigo hopped on his bike and headed off.

Looking back on this experience I sure hope a few things. One, I hope this great crime fighter was promoted for his professionalism and necessary force while dealing with us incorrigible foreigners. Two, I hope he and his friends enjoyed the cervesa and tacos we bought them. And lastly, I really, really hope he was either run over by a mac truck or choked to death on giant burrito.

Again final score. Mexico - 2 Kate - 0.

*Who was actually working on the side for this desperado.

My Belt of Experiences

2011-03-09T21:42:00.001-08:00

I would say there are only a handful of times I truly thought I was going to die. For example, there was the time an angry Mongolian tried to throw a rock into my head for not paying a $2.00 cab fare. Another time, while snowshoeing, I slid down the face of a mountain and miraculously flipped over a stump, that would have definitely left me in two pieces or seriously disfigured. And of course, who can forget, the car accident I survived in D.C., while laying in the back of my parent's station wagon with no seat belt? (Which also happened to be the week I got my period - so I guess, God was feeling like I had had enough bad news that week.)

Anyway, I'm happy to report that I now have another notch I can whittle in my "near death experiences" belt. (Which happens to be something I only wear on special occasions.) A few weeks ago, Paco (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I visited a little place called Cancun. While there, Paco and I decided to go scuba diving. Now, I'll admit I was sort of nervous about this activity, but Paco, who is certified, assured me that as long as I didn't hold my breath I would have a great time...and not die.

So, there I was, sitting in a rocking boat, trying to convince myself that the 20 minute video I watched, and the 30 minutes I stood in a pool with our instructor, was going to be enough to ensure my safety under water, when all of the sudden a wave of nausea swept over me. Have you ever gotten off a roller coaster and then been sucker punched in the stomach? No? Me either, but I have a pretty good idea of how that would feel. Words cannot explain how badly I wanted to ralph my buffet breakfast, but here's the thing - 1. We paid for this activity and I'm just too frugal to waste that money. 2. I have always prided myself on being just a little tougher than most girls, so sea sickness was not going to stop me. and 3. Did I mention we had already paid for the day?

So, foolishly, I strapped on my tank, jumped in the water and headed 30 feet down. I wish I could tell you that once under water everything went swimmingly, but I don't put notches in my belt for nothing. After about 10 minutes of being under water I quickly realized that I was either going to throw up under water, drown from throwing up under water or get the bends from rocketing up to the surface so I could throw up. As these scenarios played out in my head, I started to panic and then I committed the cardinal sin of holding my breath. Now I'm really starting to panic. Finally, after making several unsuccessful signals to Paco about my stomach (which were always responded with pointing to fish and then giving me the thumbs up sign) I grabbed the fin of my instructor, pointed to my stomach, and while channeling my inner mime, tried to describe an atomic bomb. Again, she didn't seem to get it, so I decided the only thing I could do was head for the surface. And so up I went.

As soon as I broke the surface, I grabbed my air piece and started to throw up. The rest is sort of a blur. I remember waves hitting me in the face as I was throwing up, and thinking that maybe I had died and gone to hell because only such a place would throw waves at you as you are trying to vomit. Then I remember fish attacking me, which if you think a little harder about this detail you might figure out what attracted them to me. (No, it wasn't my shiny blond hair.) Then I remember a bunch of boats and people getting ready to snorkel. Can you imagine? Just as you are about to enjoy a fun filled day of seeing fish and coral a crazy chick flies up out of the water throwing up? Bet they didn't know that was included in their package. And lastly, I remember my instructor asking where Paco was. Apparently, he hadn't gotten the message and was still on the bottom of the ocean watching his wife get attacked by fish.

Anyway, I finally made my way over to our boat, got my stuff off and collapsed - and as you probably already guessed, the ride back was nothing short of pure torture.

So, there you have it. Mexican scuba diving- 1 Kate - 0.

Before

After

102 Miles? Here's A Bed Sheet!

2011-02-28T12:26:00.000-08:00

About two weeks ago, Lance Armstrong (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband), Alberto Contador (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my brother in law) and me (no name change necessary) decided to head down to Palm Springs and ride in a small century. To be honest, I wasn't a huge fan of the race. Why? Well, one, the first ten minutes of the ride consisted of pushing my bike with one foot through a series of stop signs and biker congestion. Had I known that the race was actually going to be a scooter event I would have brought my trusty Razor. Two, the first feeding zone, which mind you is quite important, looked like a refuge camp during World War II. Honestly, picture open trucks of supplies, workers throwing water and food at a tired crowd of people and men with no legs crying for their mothers. (Okay, that last part was sort of an exaggeration.)

Anyway, after grabbing some M&M's and glucose water, Lance, Alberto and myself decided to pick up our bikes, trek through a field of sand, cactus and grown men going to the bathroom in order to get out of the mess of people. I will say, once we escaped the war zone the race actually opened up and I became a fan. Oh but wait, there's one more complaint - aren't I just a crabby old woman? I would say my last criticism is a toss up between the ridiculous amounts of lights we had to stop at (did no one mention to Palm Springs that a race would be taking place in their city?) or the fact that when I crossed the finish line I was offered a XL t-shirt. Really, I just rode 102 miles and you are giving me a bed sheet? Why not punch me in the quad and say, "Congratulations!"

Okay, I'll stop. It was actually an awesome day and here's the pictures to prove it.

My Testimony

2011-02-16T15:05:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago, the man and I went down to our garage and found our bikes had been stolen. Words cannot sufficiently or accurately describe the anger I felt. One, who goes into a locked garage and steals bikes? Does this person also kick old ladies in the hips and steal their dentures? Two, why did they have to steal my bike? I mean, I actually use my bike every day. Why couldn't they steal the motorcycle that causes my apartment to vibrate every time the moron decides to go for a morning ride on Saturday? Or how about the three SURF boards that were still sitting there just mocking my bike's absence? How come my thieves had to have such discriminating taste?

So, let me just say, to all the thieves out there. You know who you are. You are the ones that broke into my car in high school and stole my sister's Oakley sunglasses. It was 1999 - do you have any idea how cool my sister was with OAKLEY Sunglasses?!! Do you know that you not only robbed me, but her of sheer coolness. And to you, the punk in college who stole the jacket I stole from my sister, who stole from some chick in high school, who probably paid good money for it - you are a terrible person. And to the jerks who broke into my roommate's car twice. Yeah, twice. Lay off the Honda civic and the idiots who constructed those easily popped locks. And to the little a-holes who shattered my man's car only to steal my 2003 Ipod and some CDs - we hope you have gotten into a terrible accident.

So, to all of you who think it's cool to steal things let me just say - there is truly, truly a special place in hell prepared for you. I know and hope this with every fiber of my being.

Act Natural

2011-02-01T20:29:00.000-08:00

I know, this will come as a shock to some of you (my husband included) but I don't have the greatest "inside voice." Somewhere and somehow, I convinced myself, that if you talked at a normal octave about the person right next to you they wouldn't suspect you were talking about them. I mean, who talks about someone while they are sitting right next to you? I know, this sounds like a ridiculous statement, but the key is to not point, not look in their direction and not lower your voice. Any of these missteps can instantly turn a nice dinner observation or a friendly talk with a friend into a rather nasty situation.

Might I also add that when you talk about someone keep them at least in your peripheral vision. Turning your back or a quick corner can lead to a disastrous outcome. For example, today a customer of mine decided to bring over his check to me while I was putting in an order at the computer. For some reason, he decided, as he dropped the check next to me, to make a loud kissing noise in my ear. Immediately, I thought it was one of my co-workers messing around and I said, "Thanks doll." However, as I turned around to see my co-worker, all I saw was a strange looking Asian man sipping his coffee. Now, I'll admit I was slightly rattled from his "sign of affection?" but that is no excuse for breaking one of my cardinal rules. After about ten seconds of thinking about his ridiculous smacking lips, I said out loud to my co-worker, "The strangest thing just happened to me. Some idiot brought over his check and made this disgusting kissing noise in my ear." And then the mistake. My co-worker asked, "Which one?" and I said, while turning, "He's this creepy Asian..." and there he was...right behind me.

So remember friends: act natural, keep them always in your sights, don't point and judge away.

Fair Fights

2011-01-31T18:09:00.001-08:00

I would just like to say up front that there could be some potential bitterness in the following entry. You have been warned.

So, lately, I feel like a lot of people are getting pregnant, and I have to admit, I have some mixed emotions about all the bundles of joy shooting down from Heaven. On one hand, I'm really happy for my emotionally stable and mature friends, who are bringing children into this world. On the other hand, I'm a little tired of opening my gossip websites and seeing the announcement of another moronic celebrity having a baby. Why couldn't they all just follow the trend of 2003 Angelina and adopt? Why all of the sudden are these celebrities, who at one time were addicted to some substance of some sort (Britney...uh, Nicole Ritchey) becoming so freaking fertile? I mean honestly, are we serious about sending children to these people?

Below is what I call my "Seriously You are Going to Be A Parent?!!"

Celebrity #1: Pink

Relationship Status:

Pink recently told Cosmo that she is making an effort to be nicer to Carey (her on and off husband). "I'm so dramatic ... and in the past, I've been really mean," she said. "Carey sat me down one day when we were fighting and said, 'Baby, when you call me names, it hurts my feelings. Please try to stop.' And I was like 'Wow, thank you for telling me how you feel.' Now I fight fair."

Kate's Thoughts: Where to begin? Um, the fact that she classifies her fights with her husband as now "fair," is slightly troublesome. What about, "Now that we are having a baby I've decided to love my husband and not cause him to have periodical interventions with me like first grade teachers have with kids on the playground."

Fate of Child: Prior to entering rehab, will see this picture and know why its Dad took his motorcross and drove off a cliff.

Celebrity #2: Mike Tyson and wife/girlfriend* had a baby

Kate's Thoughts: This would be totally cool in my book if it was 1987 and the only thing I knew about Mike Tyson was Nintendo's "Punch-out," and the fact that he was dating Darlene (Robin Givens) from Head of the Class. Unfortunately, it's 2011 and his greatest hits include a rape conviction in 1991 and biting a man's ear off. Model Dad? Probably not.

Fate of Child: Kids will be terrified of him on the playground, he'll most likely have a very high pitched voice, and whenever his father hugs him, he will most likely cover his ears.

Celebrity #3: Mariah Carey and Mr. Carey

Relationship Status: She still pays for everything.

Kate's Thoughts: Again, quite a doozy to discuss. I think my anger with this situation really stems from her MTV Cribs, where she changed about twenty times, and kept saying stupid things like, "blah, blah...because I'm a diva." Yes, that's exactly the maternal instinct we are looking for - a diva.

Fate of Child: He'll go on to host an exciting show about nobodies showing the world their hidden talents and becoming America's Got Tal...wait a second. Sorry, I was thinking of someone else. I think she'll have a girl* and she'll wonder why her Dad looks her age and is always asking her mom for money. She'll also have a terrible voice...because something in the world has to make sense to me right now.

Celebrity #4: Rachel Zoe

Kate's Thoughts: She is Skeletor's long lost daughter. How does she even have enough cells and blood to make a baby? How does bone create life? This one makes me the most mad. I haven't been on a bike for a few weeks just so I can maintain weight for a baby and Skeletor drank air yesterday and is now pregnant.

Fate of Child: Eaten of course.

Other celebrities that should have made the list: Kim Zolciak from Real Housewives of Atlanta, Baby Spice from the Spice Girls and Anna Duggar (the chick already has 1,000 children!)

* I wasn't capable of reading the article because all I saw was "Mike Tyson baby."

* Again, absolutely no real research went into this entry.

Oh, The Neck Strength

2011-01-30T21:06:00.000-08:00

There are many reasons why I love Santa Monica. This would be #131.

Africa Needs Aid?

2011-01-28T14:44:00.000-08:00

Last night Mr. Hip (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I decided to venture up the 101 and see Amos Lee at The Music Box, which is a cool little club on Sunset. To start off the night, a man named Vusi Mahlasela opened the show with a very rousing set. I say "rousing" for two reasons. One, the man had some pipes. And two, between each song, that inevitably had something to do with Africa, he would go off on some political rally speech, that wasn't exactly well thought out. For example, he said, "You know I'm from Africa and it's a great big continent. We have so many people and lands - and we've given so much to the world in aid that I think it's time we start to receive some aid as well." Now, call me crazy, but what kind of "aid" has Africa been giving to the world? Does this guy really think that Africa hasn't received any aid? And how come a few idiots in the crowd started to clap when he said this? Do they too believe Africa has been sustaining the world? I swear, give a person a guitar, put them up on a stage and some idiot will follow any gibber that comes out of their mouth.

Once Vusi was finished changing the world (and historical facts) Amos Lee came on and he was absolutely amazing. He's originally from Philadelphia, which in my book means you are already the coolest person in the room, and to boot, his voice was like butter. (Yes, I too, think I should be a critic of some sort. I mean, who would compare a singer to butter? Me.)

If you haven't experienced Mr. Amos Lee do so. And if you haven't given a dollar to Africa - do so.

Please Sir, I Want Some More

2011-01-27T15:59:00.000-08:00

Before we begin, let me apologize for my misspelling in my last entry. Yes, it was "waist" not "waste" we were looking for. I do appreciate all your faithful readers, who caught the mistake and brought it to my attention. I'll admit, I wrote that entry in a rather sleepy state. I promise I will not write another entry or use heavy machinery without having my brain at full capacity again.

So, the other day I was sitting in the market area of our restaurant when a woman came in and asked to purchase the entire batch of oatmeal cookies we had made for the day. As soon as she made this request, a man behind her let out a soft whimper, and then ever so Oliver Twist of him, asked if he might be able to buy one of the 21 she was buying. She, without even a single moment of hesitation said, "No." At first, all of us other grown-ups in the market area assumed she was kidding, but when he asked again, and even included the fact that he had walked his fat ass all the way down from work just to buy a cookie, she again said, "No." Granted, this time she followed it up with a smile, but I think her message was the same. What was that message? Well, it was, "I'm a grown woman, who due to her parents lacking of parenting missed the entire first grade where they teach you on how not to be an a-hole AND how to share. So, I'm taking the entire 21 cookies and I don't care about your low blood sugar or strange addiction to an oatmeal cookie because I too have my addictions. I enjoy finding something people enjoy and taking all of it. I enjoy watching your face crumble in disbelief and disappointment as I hand over my credit card and take away the last piece of joy you had in this life." (I'm paraphrasing of course.)

Eventually, my co-worker couldn't stand the ridiculousness (again, you all can spell check me on this one) going on in front of him and said, "Really, you won't just give him one cookie?" I thought she might withstand the additional pressure to act normal, since she started with the "sorry sucker" smile, but she finally caved.

Is it bad that I secretly hope someone either stole all of those cookies, or at some point when she needs blood, Mr. Oliver Twist will be the only one who can save her, but when she asks for just a little blood, he'll tilt his head and while smiling say, "No?"

You Take Your Pants Off

2011-01-25T17:30:00.000-08:00

Because of my current issue with not being able to create babies, I've been at the doctor's office quite a lot over the past two years. For those of you, who also frequent the doctor's office, you know that this is a strange place. It's strange because just when you are in the middle of a great article, in some magazine you would never buy (today I was completely fascinated by the benefits of breast pumps - did you know there is an actual magazine entitled Mom? Really, Mom? What marketing genius came up with that one? Probably the same company who brought us the thought provoking magazines entitled: Plants and Lamps.) I digress. What we were talking about? Oh yeah, so there you are engrossed in some bizarre magazine and then a nurse calls your name. Of course, you drop the magazine, thinking you are about to see the doctor, and then you find yourself in an empty room, on cold paper and nothing to read. I see ladies taking their magazines with them, but I always hope that, maybe just once, they'll be even cooler magazines in the room I'm going to. (So far I'm 0-11).

Second and definitely the strangest thing, is the whole, "Take off your pants and the doctor will be right in." Now, if I went out to dinner and the host said to me, "Just take off your pants and a waiter will be right out to take your order," I think I would find that a little strange. And yet, in a doctor's office this is completely normal. It's completely normal to be waste naked in front of a virtual stranger, who still calls you Katherine even though you have corrected them numerous times and encouraged them to call you Kate.* It's completely normal to shake someone's hand while you sit there waste naked. It's completely normal, after an exam, to remain waste naked and talk about the future. Waste naked isn't normal. Heck, it's not even the right phrase for it. And yet, I do it. I do it every time.

One of these days I'm taking a bundle of magazines into my exam room and I'm not taking off my pants unless someone else does. Well, not really. At least not until someone offers to buy me dinner.

*Even spoken in the third person to really drive the point home. For example, "So, then I said KATE, you just got to keep doing those shots."

Someone is Taking Their Job Quite Seriously

2011-01-21T17:50:00.000-08:00

So, a few weeks ago Mr. What's His Name (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I (well, I really didn't because I don't have to pay our bills) realized someone was illegally using our credit card at three different gas stations. To remedy the problem, we (this time together) called the credit card company and were directed to one, Carl. Now, either India is getting incredibly good with accents or we, by accident, called a backwoods cabin in the hills of North Carolina, because Carl (said with a drawl) was rippin' ready to help. As we told him about the fraudulent charges on our card he said, "Well, I do think someone is usin' the card illegally because (insert credit card uninteresting tracking information)." After we agreed with his assessment he then said, and I do hope that this was being recorded for quality assurance, he said, "Man, I wish someone would kill these people." Slightly taken aback, Mr. What's His Name and me started to laugh, and then we realized Carl wasn't kidding.

I wonder if after work Carl dresses up in some snazzy tights, a homemade cape and puts a lunch bag over his head (spaces cut out for his eyes, of course) and goes and finds these people he thinks should be killed? I think it would be pretty cool to have Carl, The Credit Card Avenger, out there fighting crime. I would think twice about using someone's information if I knew some crazy redneck was going to find me and tie me up to his Ford pick-up.

Just sayin'...

Trash Talking

2011-01-20T19:29:00.001-08:00

The other night I was collecting the trash around the apartment and I had a strange thought, "What would someone determine about me if they went through my trash?" I know, strange thought, but you know, what's the first thing detectives do on TV when they can't find their suspect? Yep, they go through the trash. And then all of the sudden, they find receipts for plane tickets, lab results for matching DNAs and pieces of bomb kits. Within 30 minutes their suspect goes from a "person of interest" to the perpetrator who blew his brother's house up and is now flying to South America. Folks, it's all in the trash.

So, here's what I deduced from my own trash. One, I'm not a cook. If anything, based on my trash, I eat a ridiculous amount of cereal, pizzas from Trader Joes and not a trace of vegetables or fruit. Two, again, based on my personal waste, I hate Greenpeace and anything associated with it. How do I know this? Well, because inevitably, each round of trash includes at least four Greenpeace reminders, six Save The Whales pamphlets and two Starving Children contribution notices that are all torn up and shoved in an empty cereal box. And three, if I was sifting through my own trash, I would conclude that a person living at my house has a terrible drug problem, due to the used syringes*, but is not completely out of control because of the inordinate pieces of used floss. (I think this last one would have really stumped NCIS.)

So, let's review what my trash has told us: I'm a poorly fed, drug abuser, who hates people or things less fortunate then myself, but makes time to maintain good oral hygiene. I think that sums it up.
So, what does your trash say? And more importantly, why is your trash talking?

* For baby making

Something From the Church Mouse

2011-01-11T21:18:00.001-08:00

So, I'm walking into church and my new high tech phone buzzes to let me know I have a new email. Innocently, I open my gmail and find an email from my mom. I figure, since it's my mom writing on Sunday morning, it must be important. The following is what I read:

I don't think a scripture could be as wise.

Alphabet Test

2011-01-09T19:47:00.001-08:00

Questions: Why do you have to type a bunch of nonsensical letters in order to leave a comment on a blog? And why, are they difficult to read? Is their a problem with poorly seeing people leaving inappropriate comments on blogs? Does typing the random letters make you feel like your comment is more important because you had to jump through a stupid hoop to post it? Is someone getting a royalty check every time I do this because they thought of the dumb ass idea in the first place? Was there a time when you could randomly leave comments on blogs with no check of your typing and alphabet skills? Have you ever not typed the right sequence and felt like a total moron? Are you lying right now?

Anyone got any answers?

I Ain't No 007

2011-01-07T16:04:00.001-08:00

There are few things in this world I'm not very good at. 1. I'm terrible at replacing the toilet paper. (Just ask my husband because he'll tell you. No, really, he'll tell you right now.) 2. Wearing my retainers at night. It's not that I don't enjoy straight teeth, I just loath the mocking I receive from the husband. (If I hear one more time, "Do you want to open mouth kiss?" when I decide to wear my retainers, I think I might commit murder.)

And 3. (yes, it's a short list) I'm not very good at gambling. (I know, you too, see the connection between toilet paper and retainers.) No honestly, I'm a terrible gambler. A few years back, Victim #1 (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I went to Vegas to see his friend get married by Elvis. While we were there we decided to play a little roulette. As we walked up to the table, I was asked by the pit boss to show some ID. I, being 29 at the time, thought his question was absurd, and responded, "Oh, it's okay I'm 29." He took one look at me, and said, "I don't care if you are 88 years old I need to see some ID." I started to laugh a little bit and then realized the man wasn't kidding. So, I went upstairs to my room, got some ID and walked back. Now, me being as cool of a number as I am, as soon as I walked up to the table (mind you, a game was in progress) I shoved my ID into the dealer's face and said, "See I'm 29." Immediately, Victim #1 grabbed my arm and apologized to the other gamblers.

Then, once the game, that I disrupted, was over, Victim #1 and I started to randomly place our chips on the table. At this point, things were beginning to look up until I decided last minute to change one of my bets. (Mind you, once again, the game was in progress, and as I went to move my chips, the dealer bellowed out, "Don't TOUCH those chips!" Again, Victim #1 apologized and I looked down at the floor.

I wish I could tell you that, even though I was a complete moron, the white ball fell in our favor and we won millions of dollars. Unfortunately, that was not the case, and turns out 30 seconds of stupidity cost me $20.00.

Now, you would think that after this experience I would stay away from the gambling world, but last week we traveled to Vegas for an anniversary celebration, and before I knew it, I found myself in a casino. However, this time I decided to approach my gambling weakness from a different angle. I decided to approach the Black Jack table just like James Bond. I decided I would sit down with an air of confidence/cockiness, I would bet high, read my opponents and maintain an aura of mystery at all times. Unfortunately, my plan backfired as soon as I tried to smoothly and mysteriously look at my cards. I don't know why I thought hiding my cards would be a good idea, but in my attempt to be 007, I managed to completely bend them. Immediately, my cover was blown, and Cindy, the middle aged dealer, looked at me with disgust and said, "You can't bend the cards honey." No dry martinis could save me - I was exposed.

So, gambling will remain one of my weaknesses. At least it's not heroin.

Saving Dolphins

2011-01-05T18:29:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I was blessed with a worthless trip down to the airport courthouse to fulfill my civic duty as a public juror. For three and an half hours they made us sit in a cold room while they explained, in the most laborious way possible, all the ways we could get out of jury duty. I learned that if you are 70 years old and just don't want to be a juror you are excused. I have to admit I'm not a fan of this cut off. How come 70 year olds are excused? All they are going to do is rush back to their recliners and scan the obituaries for their friends and sad stories. (Sorry Beba) How come 30 somethings aren't excused to go, oh I don't know, work, help the economy, produce products our society needs etc., etc.?

I also learned that being poor is not a recognized "hardship" for being excused from jury duty. Now, this attempted excuse was repeated almost ten times, which made me wonder, "Is this really the 'go to' excuse when you don't want to be a juror?" How about, "I have a heart that might stop at any moment?" Or exclaiming, "I think all murderers should be released!" Why tell the court yous poor? If anything, if you are poor you should be on jury duty because you get paid 15 dollars a day (yeah, you read that right) and the possibility of getting a free lunch.

The other strange part of the juror orientation was the fact that after spending 180 minutes explaining all the ways we could get out of jury duty they then showed us a five minute video of testimonials of how cool it is to be a juror. I really think someone in the courthouse PR department should think about the conflicting messages they are conveying - 1. Hey, get out of jury duty, everyone is doing it. (Unless you are poor) vs. 2. Jury duty is right next to saving a dolphin out of a tangled patch of seaweed. So, do it.

Lastly, I must admit, as I sat there freezing to death, I started to strangely replay Runaway Jury in my mind. All of the sudden I became a reincarnated John Cusack (minus the trench coat and boom box) and started to calculate who I would be able to manipulate into voting my way. I had pinned down about four clueless people, when a courthouse worker announced we were no longer needed.

Civic duty - check. I really think I could have owned that jury if given the chance.

The Cardinal Rule of Christmas Cards

2011-01-04T18:27:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: This entry is not the result of any of MY friends' Christmas card.

So, the other day we received a Christmas card from one of my husband's friends. (Yes, you are getting two entries in a row about Christmas cards - tis the season.) It was your typical 30 something Christmas card - Costco printed, short wish of a Happy Holiday and a well posed picture. Unfortunately, this well intended card forgot one of the cardinal rules of Christmas cards - if you recently had a baby and you are, either still overweight from the pregnancy, OR if your newborn is...not cute - SKIP THIS YEAR or SEND A NOTE.* Honestly, this child was seriously killing the card.

I now leave this train of thought and ask you all: Do you think these thoughts I have sometimes about not cute children is the reason I'm barren? Yeah, me either. Some kids are just not cute.

I know there are many of you out there who wanted to see the Christmas card I'm referencing...sorry. Please enjoy this awesome one I found on the interwebs.

*Which really should be a brief explanation of your inability to lose your baby weight, or the fact that your husband was too an ugly baby, but grew out of it in high school.

Christmas Cards and Baseball Cards

2010-12-22T08:46:00.000-08:00

* To the right is the picture I used for our Christmas card. It basically says, "Hey we travel to cool places. Happy Holidays!"

Merrryyy Christmas everyone!

Without a doubt, this is my favorite holiday. I mean, Thanksgiving is awesome, but a holiday mixed with food AND gifts - could there be anything better?

However, there is one aspect of Christmas I'm not a huge fan of: Christmas Cards. Why? Well, one, they don't make a lot of sense to me because, basically, all you are really doing is either saying, "Hey, here's a great picture of us at some beach, or location you wish you had the money and time to see, but you don't," OR "Hey, here's a bizarre way of telling you I had another kid and now I have five and you still have none."*

And then, if you send these cards to people you see all the time, (which I sort of did) it becomes more like trading baseball cards then actually wishing people Merry Christmas. I mean seriously, I get someone's "card" and I'm like, "Oh man, I had better send on my picture so we have made an even trade." Honestly, at the end of the holiday we should all get together and see what rookie cards we got and how much they are worth.

And then, there's the dreaded single spaced, 10 size font "Family Breakdown of the Year" insert. Come on, be honest, do you read these? I'll be honest, I do. Why do I take the time to read these? Because every once in a while you find a little nugget nestled in these reports. If you read close enough, you just might find out who's the in-law they can't stand, or the grandkid with the least chance of succeeding. Now these gems can be hidden, but if you look for key phrases like, "Bob, Sally's husband, has decided after fifteen years of working at X company, he's going to buy a boat and sell the fish he catches to people at the docks! Go get 'em Bob!" Translation: Bob's an idiot and Sally will be looking for us to support them in a year. Or, "Little Billy, our third grandson, enjoys video games, bugs, sleeping and candy. Don't try to pry that XBox from him!" Translation: Billy is a social weirdo and we worry one day he'll be either homeless or a data entry specialist.

Alright, I'm off to the post office to send out some additional cards. I hate when you get cards from people you didn't send anything to. I wish they would give you a heads up text they were going to do that so don't waste a card on your dentist.

*Did you sense the bitterness?

Awkward situation #1412 at Work

2010-12-09T17:23:00.000-08:00

Time: 10:30 am
Order: Hash Brown Benedict, Tuna Burger, Cheeseburger, 1 beer, 2 shots of tequila

I walk up to refill their water glasses and I hear the following:

"I mean, I did not touch that woman. This whole thing about a sexual assault is a gross allegation. I swear I'm going to murder that woman."

Did a waitress hear OJ Simpson say the same thing over tequila and poached eggs?

Dinosaurs, Cotton Candy and Talking Cats

2010-12-06T21:08:00.000-08:00

For the past month my husband has been working a ridiculous work schedule. Consequently, he's been going to bed around 2 or 3 in the morning. Obviously, at those hours I'm in comatose state and basically dead to the world. Therefore, my husband has started playing a bizarre game with me when he comes home. The game consists of him crawling into bed, nestling up next to me and then whispering complete gibber. No, you read that right - complete gibber. For example, one night he told me, "Tomorrow we're going to grandma's house to eat dinosaurs and pie. But, not before we clean the driveway of sticks and stones."

Now, I should tell you that during this fun game I actually have no idea what he's saying. Instead, in my deep sleep state, all I hear is something about my grandma and dinosaurs. I then feel someone next to me, then they are gone and then I'm dreaming about a T-Rex making pie with my Grandma Frost.

Now, that's not where the game ends. In the morning, I get to call my husband and say, "What in the crap did you say last night?" He'll laugh and say what do you remember? To which, I usually reply, "Absolutely nothing," and then he'll say, "Do you remember anything about dinosaurs or cotton candy or talking cats?" Then, like my drunken friends in college, I try to separate what I dreamed about in a blacked out state from what he actually said. Doesn't this sound like fun?

I guess the only good part about this game is that I now know how my friends felt when key words like, "bar," "frat boy," and "fell down stairs" would trigger memories from the previous night.

Thanks (insert name of my husband's law firm)!

Do You Like It?

2010-12-05T19:42:00.001-08:00

A few weeks ago I decided to cut my hair rather short. When I went to work the next day several people said the following:

Strange customer: "Hey you got your hair cut."
Me: "Yep."
Strange customer: "Do you like it?"
Me: "Um, yeah. I asked for it."

"Do you like it?" Who says that? What did these idiots expect me to say? "Oh, I'm so glad someone finally asked. I actually asked for a short trim, and then she closed her eyes, and started to cut. I've been crying all morning. Don't I look awful?" Honestly, who asks that?

I swear, next time I see a newborn baby I'm going to say, "Oh, you had your baby." And the mom will say, "Yep, just had her two weeks ago." And then I'll say, "Do you like it?"

Or, next time someone gets surgery I'm going to say, "Hey you recovered from your surgery!" And my friend will say, "Yep. Isn't it great?" And I'll say, "Do you like it?"

Sorry, just a random rant.

For the record I like my new haircut...

I Couldn't Even Tell

2010-12-01T16:26:00.001-08:00

Can we all just take a moment and collectively throw our hands up in the air and scream, "What in the hell?" - because that's what I'm doing right now. Why am I doing this? Well, today I went to work and while I was punching my number in, I noticed a tattered piece of paper attached to the wall. It said, "Please donate money for (insert co-worker's name) and her baby." Now, it's not that I'm incredibly cheap and don't like helping other people, it's just that, after working with this person for ten months, I never, ever, knew she was pregnant. Sure, I thought she looked like she had gained some weight, but I didn't think it was because she had a bun in the oven. (Which is, obviously, one of the worst things anyone could ever say - "Oh, you were pregnant...I couldn't even tell.")

I think my favorite part of the whole story was when she called in to ask for the day off because she had...given birth! I swear, there's now no topping that excuse. I thought getting out of work for my explosive ovaries was pretty cool, but now I'm always going to be trumped by the baby card. Man, things are just not going my way in this department.

The Thankful List

2010-11-30T13:40:00.001-08:00

Well, Happy Belated Turkey Day to you all. I just returned from St. Jorge with the family and am full of thankfulness.

My family doesn't have many traditions, but one we try to do each year is to go around the table, after stuffing our faces, and stating what we are thankful for. Of course, this tradition causes ample moments of sarcasm, flashes of real emotion and memorable moments, such as, when my nephew once said, "Target and....Jesus." (I really think he covered it all) but, all in all, its one of my favorite things about Thanksgiving.

As I drove the lonely six hour drive to St. Jorge (Mr. Working Pants (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) decided to spend his turkey day at the office) I tried to think of what I would say during our yearly "What are you thankful for" family exercise. Here's what I came up with:

1. This past year I was pulled over for making an illegal U-turn and in another incident I was pulled over for being on my cell phone. Both times I was let off with a warning. I'm thankful for that.

2. I'm thankful that one time at work this guy chopped his finger off and I had a feeling not to go around the corner. Had I gone around the corner I would have seen him holding a bloody fingerless hand. I'm thankful for that.

3. One time at the doctor's office this pregnant lady, who was sitting next to me, ripped a small fart. She tried to pretend she didn't do it, but I heard it. I definitely heard it. I'm not grateful for my supersonic ears, but I am grateful that that day I had a severe stuffed up nose. I'm really grateful for that cold.

4. I'm grateful Amanda Bynes was true to herself and retired at 24. She's The Man was really the high point for me. You can't do any better than that.

5. One day a homeless/crazy woman came into the restaurant and ordered a lot of alcohol, bacon, eggs and more alcohol. When it came time for her to pay the bill she slurred in a drunken voice, "Sh*t, I don't got money for this. This stuff is expensive." She then grabbed her bacon and walked out. I'm grateful I didn't have to be her waitress, and I'm glad I happened to be there when she called the restaurant a "government conspiracy to rip off poor people." It's funny, I've always thought that too.

Alright, there was family, husband, modern medicine, shelter etc. going through my mind, but I really think these five moments caused the most gratitude in my heart.

Astronomist

2010-11-23T20:26:00.001-08:00

Today, I was standing in line at the post office and out of nowhere this lady turns to me and says, "My wrist keeps making that noise. I don't know if I hurt it, or slept on it wrong, but do you hear that? Last night I heard it and started to scream because I thought someone was in my house." I didn't reply. She continued, "I'm sorry I live alone so whenever I'm in line somewhere I just start talking to whoever will listen." Again, I didn't reply. She then said, "It really hurts to move my bag and my wrist." Now, I started to feel bad and was about to say something when another lady interrupted me and said to the crazy wrist lady, "Do you speak different languages because I speak four languages. Did you know that you can learn different languages by just speaking? That's how I learn them. I also study planets. And I'm an astronomist." (I swear on all that's good in the world she said "astronomist" not astronomer.)

For the next five minutes these two competed at who could craze out the other. Wrist lady would play her go to card of living alone and thinking someone was out to get her and the astronomist would come back with explaining how French men know how to please women. That can't be beat. Finally, at the end they parted, and I hate to say it, but wrist lady got owned. I have never heard someone bounce around on more topics than wrist lady's nemesis did in five minutes. She talked about the importance of voting, how chanting can calm your soul, how the planets are realigning because Mrs. Obama is a Capricorn (again, swearing on all sugar plums, puppies and warm chocolate chip cookies that she really said those things.)

It was fantastic to see a crazy totally get one upped by an even crazier person. I love Santa Monica.

Wardrobe Malfunction

2010-11-22T20:19:00.001-08:00

Wow, it's really been a solid month since I have written in this blog. Where to begin?

Well, I suppose the best way to start off would be to discuss my Halloween. Now, because I'm of the religious leaning, I didn't celebrate Halloween on Sunday, but on Friday night I found myself at quite a party. What was this raging event? Well, because we all are friends, I suppose I can be honest. Deputy Junior (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I decided last minute to go dancing at a singles' dance. Yes, I said a singles' dance. Okay, before you start the judging, let me just say they had a DJ, lights, smoke...alright, I'm not even convincing myself this was a good idea. Let's just leave it at - we wanted to go dancing and this was the only option. Okay?

Now, that you can picture our night, let's go a little deeper. As you can see from these pictures Deputy Junior's shorts were slightly* tight. Consequently, any sort of movement or hip gyration would cause a minor wardrobe malfunction. Now, remember that we, as married folk, were at a singles' dance - which means saddling up to your dance partner's fly and wrenching the thing up was sort of taboo.

I have to admit, it was sort of hilarious watching people's faces contort in shock as Deputy Junior and I fought to close his fly. (Life really is about small moments of joy.)

*"Slightly" in the sense that I'm not sure we'll be conceiving any time soon.

Just Leave it At Free Candy

2010-10-21T16:11:00.000-07:00

I have mixed emotions about Halloween. Of course, as kid I loved this holiday. One, I lived in a country neighborhood with not a lot of kids and a lot of lazy adults. So basically, I owned every house that foolishly put out the bowl of candy and the sign that read "Please take one." (In my neighborhood, you either got there first and cleaned it out, or the other kid, you were competing against, was going to take the entire bowl. Hey, just plain Darwinism at its finest.) Two, I loved this holiday for the sheer fact that for the ensuing two weeks (yes, it usually only took me that long to kill 50 houses' bowls of candy) I was going to be allowed to eat candy at any point of the day. Why? Because my dear mother was raised by a Depression fearing man, who did not believe in wasting anything - so, the good candy I received/stole had to be eaten. I know, even a group of orphaned kids couldn't sing a song sadder.*

Now, the other part of Halloween I'm just not a fan of. Why couldn't they just stop it at - give kids candy. The end. Why did they have to decide that this holiday also has to be about blood, death, fear and urine trickling down someone's leg? I just don't get it. I don't get the scary movies, I don't get the thrill of seeing elementary school kids dressed as...well...as...killers? I mean, come on, was Dracula just a poor and misunderstood guy, who was really bad at heavy petting and necking? Were witches just bad magicians, who just stumbled upon black magic and hating chicks, who lived in the forest?** Were zombies really just dumb people, who were actually alive and just needed someone to help them with their lack of speech and motor skills? Come on people. Halloween is a weird holiday. It gives license for men to dress as women, nurses to become whores and adults to dress up as fairies to work.

Why couldn't the Celts just leave it at candy? Free candy to everyone? It was brilliant.

*Annie
**Snow White

Anyone Want My Chair

2010-10-19T16:35:00.000-07:00

For about two months I've been trying to sell my crappy office chair. I've posted alluring ads on craigslist, I've spread the word about the "deal of a chair" at work and I've even dropped the price three times. Unfortunately, I was never able to make the sale. Now, I would like to tell you that my chair remained unwanted because people in the greater Los Angeles area are cheap bastards and don't recognize quality...but that would be a lie. Actually, the reason I couldn't sell the stupid chair is because I'm a horrible salesperson. How horrible?

Well, about a month ago someone replied to my ad and said they wanted to buy my chair. Excitedly, I tightened the screws, gave it one more sit, and then explained how it was time for it to live somewhere else. Fifteen minutes later, two chicks walked into my apartment and started to inspect the chair. Now, this should have been an easy transaction. Unfortunately, before I could stop myself I started to tell them everything that was wrong with the chair. I told them the back of the chair was a little unsteady, the arm rests sometimes stuck AND I even found myself taking them into my bedroom to show them my new and BETTER office chair. Within two minutes, they were out the door with no chair in hand, but the name of a great website!

Mr. Wheelin' (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) saw the entire thing go down, and once they were out the door, he looked at me and said, "Wow. Way to sell that chair."

To be honest, I don't know how it all happened. I remember seeing some cash, and then laughing about how some people try to sell such crap on craigslist.*

*Yes, I too have no idea how anyone converted while I was in Mongolia.

Minor

2010-10-13T18:11:00.000-07:00

On Monday I had a minor surgery. I know what you are thinking..."minor surgery. Is there such a thing?" Well, before Monday I definitely believed in surgical gradations. And then, once I got there, and put on my hospital gown and answered questions like, "No, I don't have a living will and yes, you may perform a blood transfusion in case I am dying on the table," did I start to re-think my initial impression. Surgery is surgery...and no matter what, they all sort of suck.

Now, granted my surgery wasn't as involved as my neighbor's EYE REPLACEMENT (yes, I actually heard the doctor say, "Are you ready for your new eye?") or were they fixing a heart that was born in 1927 (my other neighbor), but I was still going under and someone was going to cut me open. (I've been watching Grey's Anatomy while laying on my couch for the past three days - so excuse my "hospital talk.")

Anyway, my minor surgery involved checking out if a tube of mine was open or not. The verdict? Open. When was this established? Actually, a year ago. Why did they decide to check again? Because, for me, making a baby has to be the most difficult and involved process anyone has ever had to endure. (Okay, so actually the initial x-ray wasn't exactly clear, but I'm still going with my first answer.) So now, I'm sitting on the couch with a bloated abdomen and four stitches.

Gee, X-ray Imagining of Santa Monica I sure do appreciate your meticulous approach to x-rays! You did a minor good job.

A Muu Muu Exhibit

2010-10-05T15:32:00.000-07:00

If you haven't had the opportunity to see or hear the 360 members of the Mormon Tabernacle choir - you are missing out. Why? Well, first they could sing Lil' Wayne and still sound amazing. And second, their outfits, primarily the ones worn by the females, are utterly indescribable. For example, some might call their dresses muu muus, others might describe them as versatile tablecloths, and to the truly fashion forwards, they might just call them giant tents. Honestly, I don't know who is designing for this group, but I really hope my tithing isn't paying for yards and yards and yards and yards of fabric to create these drapes.

I also wondered what do they do with the outfits once they have been used? Because I have never been to a Mormon Tabernacle Muu Muu Exhibit, or have I seen any of these things at a re-sale store. So, what do you think they do with them?

Here's a few ideas my hubby, my bro-in-law and myself came up with this weekend.

1. Sails for their boating trip to Catalina Island.
2. Donated to the army for parachute training.
3. Pool Covers.
4. Covers for old cars.
5. To cover a home being fumigated.

Got any ideas?

I'm an Idiot

2010-10-04T16:02:00.001-07:00

ALLLLrigghhttt...so, I'm an idiot...a complete idiot. I'm as gullible as my older brother always told me. So, the blog I destroyed in my past entry is fake. So?! So, I believed for a solid day that some moron was out there writing about her perfect family and the downfalls of "butt." So?! I'm an idiot. But, in my defense, that past entry was more an expression of my brewing frustration with other blogs I've read. AND, I have read blogs that are as ridiculous as the one I berated. (Though no more examples will be shared.) I'm a blog snob I admit it.

I can also admit that I'm rather embarrassed about my diatribe. As I called my good friend, Emad, and was informed about the satirical nature of my highlighted blog, I was reminded of other moments where I've felt as equally challenged, that is mentally. And because I'm really committing this blog into a self-flogging entry, I thought I might list my top five brainless moments.

1. When I was in fourth grade I heard my first real racist joke. Within five minutes of hearing it, I found a crowd of kids on the playground and re-told the joke. Unfortunately, I forgot about the ONE African-American who attended my school. Of course, at that very second he happened to stop and join the crowd. As I got to the punchline, and everyone was waiting, I made eye contact with him, and said, "Um, I forget how it goes." Obviously, I've never lived down the fact that I butchered a joke...no, I'm kidding.

2. In 8th grade, my friend asked me to break-up with her boyfriend for her. Me, always sharp as a tack, decided to inform this poor guy about the dissolution of his beloved relationship during lunch. So, there we sat in the middle of tables and crowds of kids, and I said, "So, Zach, Jenny doesn't want to go out with you anymore." I thought this would be quick and painless. Unfortunately, Zach held more emotions for Jenny than either of us realized because as soon as I said "she wants out," he started to cry. Yes, cry. And, from hundreds of kids' perspectives it looked like I was the bad guy. All I could do was pat him on the shoulder and mouth to the crowd, "It wasn't my fault. Jenny sucks. J-E-N-N-Y sucks."

3. When I was about 24, my good friend decided to teach me how to drive stick in a parking lot. Within ten seconds, and I'm not exaggerating at all, I managed to slam his car into a parked car. Fortunately, nothing happened to my friend's car, but the parked car was now up on the curb and the bumper was hanging on for dear life. I was truly behind the wheel for ten seconds.

4. When I was a sophomore in high school I was playing a pick up basketball game in our gym. While playing, I managed to steal the ball away from my opponent, and while looking back to talk some trash, I managed to run full speed into the wall. Not only, did I feel like a complete moron, but I also got ten stitches in my chin.

5. Last one...hmmmm...is it sad that's it's hard to narrow them down? Let's see. When I was a senior in college, I went to Bed Bath & Beyond to buy a picture frame. In the course of trying to find the right one, I accidentally dropped one I was looking at and managed to shatter almost an entire wall of picture frames. Instantly, a BBB worker came around the corner, and while I was surrounded by shattered glass, all I could say was, "I'm so sorry." Probably the worst part of this experience was I didn't actually end up buying anything. I would like to say I was too embarrassed to stay, but in actuality they didn't have the right size I was looking for. (Maybe this isn't an embarrassing moment, but the moment where I solidified my trip to hell.)

So, there you have it. I'm an idiot.

Butt

2010-09-29T15:25:00.000-07:00

So, sometimes I play a little game through the blog world. I'll start on a blog I typically read, and then jump from their blog to someone they read, to someone that that other blog reads and so on. Eventually, I find myself reading about some bizarre picnic of people I don't know and how they decided to make potato salad without mayo. I know, no mayo! I'll be honest, it's sort of weird looking in on people's lives, but isn't that what blogs are all about?

Anyway, in the course of this game I've realized two things. One, I'm a snob about blogs. If I see more than two entries containing artistic pictures of asian salads and cupcakes, I have to restrain myself from leaving a comment that reads, "This blog makes me want to kill myself. Please do us all a favor and stop any contact with the internet."

Two, I really think some people are mentally not right. For example, the other day I came across a particular blog that made me want to get in my car and find this person - not to congratulate them, but to find their computer and destroy it. (Now just a little background. This blog is covered in crap. There's music playing, slideshows moving and grammatical errors all over the place.)

This was the entry, (With a few of my comments):

Then I noticed Lynzii (Who spells LINZEE like this?) was looking all pudgatron, which was such a tender mercy bc it reminded me that no matter what, I still am better than others so super greatful about that. {No offense}. (Taken.) PLUS I put Tridg and Alivyiah (Again, these names? These names. This alone should call for capital punishment) in darling outfits that matched JJWT's and I's outfits too, plus my shoes and mascara really made it pop. So basically a perfect Sunday. (Basically, I'm about to kill myself, but then I read the next paragraph.)

The only downer was the trail I faced, when a girl I won't name but who's little girl is darling and adorbs (not my mistake, but hers) and is one of Alivyiah and Tridger's besties, it honestly tears my heart out but I have to friend-breakup w/ them. Sad but true. I overheard her say something very, very vulgar and shocking. At our house we exclusively only say "bum" and never "butt" which is what I heard her say. Out loud. So, so sad. I'll just have to tell her sorry, our kids can't hang out anymore thanx to your poor choice, hate to judge but these really are the last days so I gotta pick a side you know? (Too many comments to make in small paranthesis.)

ANNNNNDDDD do you know what was the worst part of this entire entry?? She had 62 comments. 62 people, okay 63 people, read this entry. 62 people! I can't even get one comment from my mom!

ANNDDDD the comments were even more ridiculous than the entry.

Comment 1: (NO CHANGES MADE)
Isnt it such a trail to see you're besties let go of the iern rod? It's like they're totally taking for granit that their in Zion. Way to go for the friend-breakup decision. You should rite to the ensign about it.

I don't even know what to say to this.

Comment 2:
Your such a great example TAMN!!! I want to be as strong of a mother as you are and always keep your kids best interest in perspective! I deff-in-nut-ly would not want {whispering} B-U-T-T in my home let alone in front of my children ears. GAAAAASP!!! I mean imagine what she says behind closed doors... Bless her heart! She does know how her choices are affecting others! Good job for taking care of your family first! I hope she can learn from your example!

Great example!?? I'm literally sweating like a crazed person right now. Tawn, if you are out and stumble on my blog, please dig a hole and stay there. Please.

Kick Him While He's Down

2010-09-28T15:19:00.000-07:00

Today in the paper I read the following article:

"Segway owner dies after falling off river cliff. All police found at the bottom of a cliff was a man's body in a frigid river and a Segway, the two-wheeled electric device that was supposed to revolutionize personal transport."

Now, there are few things that are funny* about this article. First, and obviously, the fact that the GUY WHO OWNED THE SEGWAY COMPANY dies while riding one. What's next Ronald McDonald choking on a quarter pounder?

Second, is it just me, or does the author of this article sort of hate segways? I mean, here he is reporting on a tragedy and he takes the time to sort of sarcastically say, "...the two wheeled electric device that was supposed to revolutionize personal transport." Why not just leave it at Segway, a two-wheeled electric device? Why go a step further to rub a little salt in the dead man's wound by basically saying, "Some stupid device that I found incredibly annoying and pointless." The man died falling off a cliff. Let him be.

* Not ha, ha, but more hmmm. There's a difference.

Found Snake

2010-09-23T22:06:00.000-07:00

Tonight while I was walking back from my car I saw two signs stapled to a pole. One said, "Missing Cat" and the other one said "Found Snake." I'm not a detective, but I think there might be a correlation here.

And more importantly, who just found a snake and decided to make a sign for it? A snake? Really? So, next time I come across...say a...black widow should I be making a sign for that also?

False Advertising

2010-09-22T21:28:00.001-07:00

* I couldn't get the actual advertisement but these are the pictures they used.

The other day I was driving down Santa Monica Blvd. and along the street were these ridiculous signs for the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra. I'm not sure who is in charge of their PR department, but I think they might want to re-think their whole marketing strategy. First, these signs don't make me want to attend their concerts. If anything, they make me want to donate money to cure whatever is ailing this individual. Honestly, he looks like he is suffering from either cerebral palsy, or from hemifacial spasms. Second of all, these "advertisements" sort of scare me. If I was shown this picture, without LA Philharmonic Orchestra all over it, I would think this guy was performing a exorcism or needed one himself. Honestly, this picture screams, "Come to my little concert so I can eat your little children."

Lastly, I think my biggest problem with these "advertisements" is the fact that orchestras are not cool. Going to the symphony is not cool. So, don't try to make some edgy poster to convince me otherwise. I've been to the symphony, and some eccentric and overly excited conductor is not going to change the fact that every song is going to sound the same in my head, and each second I spend trying to like the experience is only going to send me into a fit of rage.

Dear PR Department of the LA Philharmonic Orchestra,

Next year please be more honest in your advertisements. I really feel like a picture of an old man sleeping, empty seats or zoned out faces would really be more accurate.

Thanks,
Kate

Yooo Hooo semite

2010-09-21T20:38:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago John Muir (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I traveled to Yosemite National Park. Please enjoy the pictures.We got to the entrance of the park in five hours, but then had to drive an additional one hour and forty-five minutes to our campsite. Yosemite is huge! Behind John Muir is El Capitan.The next morning we woke up and did an awesome hike. Behind our friends is the first waterfall we saw.This is where we stopped for lunch.Nevada Falls. My favorite picture of the day. Oh wait...actually this was my favorite picture.We drove up to Glacier Point to see the entire park. Outside of almost running out of gas and watching a Japanese girl almost fall to her death, it was an amazing view.

A Little Flashback

2010-09-16T16:55:00.000-07:00

Today I was organizing some pictures and I came across this gem. I love that while I was passed out my husband thought to take this picture.

Oh Kelly Clarkson!

2010-09-14T08:01:00.000-07:00

Last night Nurse Betty (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) had to work late, so I had to give myself a shot. There's nothing worse than inflicting pain upon yourself.

I can only compare the experience to this clip.

May You Rest in Peace Michael

2010-09-13T20:01:00.000-07:00

I know, how much can I milk our trip to Universal Studios? I just had to make this a separate entry because I absolutely love this picture. Picture a sea of people shuffling along a rather famous sidewalk. In the middle of this, my smooth criminal drops to his knees and the following picture is taken.When he came up, an African American man looked at my husband and said, in sort of an accusatory tone, "That's my man." I wanted to tell the guy, "Um, maybe Jackson 5 days, but I think we can claim him Bad on."

Stark County Meets WWE

2010-09-09T23:34:00.001-07:00

Because of my political science degree I found this quite amusing...Oh, and the fact that this guy is nutso.

Universal Studios Hick Style

2010-09-06T21:10:00.001-07:00

Here's the thing...when the husband and I do something - we don't really do it in the most conventional sort of way.

At first, we took some normal pictures.

And then things got out of control. The picture of the husband was absolutely hilarious. As soon as the husband touched his hips, he completely freaked out, and I'll be honest, I don't think the Monkey saw me coming. What can I say - I was feeling the spirit of Universal Studios.

And then...things continued to go south.

And the characters continued. Yes, that would be a female mullet.

The Star of the Show

2010-09-04T23:39:00.000-07:00

Today, Mr. Ed (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband) and I decided to head out to Universal Studios and get a little touristy. I have more pictures to post, but I thought this short video would be a good introduction into our visit.

Location: Animal Show

Volunteer: Mr. Ed (name has been changed to protect the privacy of my husband)