UPS Delivered My Poup'ee

Ooooh! I'm so happy! My Poup'ee is here! I'm just waiting for the day when someone comes up to me and says, "My, that is an intriguing scent you're wearing. What, praytell, is it?" and I can bat my eyes coquettishly and reply, "Oh, tee hee, it's Poup'ee."*

It helps that I like the scent, too. I got one of those little tester bottle tubey sample things last year when I was getting some lipstick at the Sana'a Trade Center (one of the only places in Yemen where you can actually get cosmetics that won't make your face rot and fall off) and fell in love with the name and the smell. But I'm lazy so it's taken me until now to actually get the stuff.

In the box they also included even more free samples (well, two of them anyway). I'm not quite as taken by these, but they are a bit intriguing in a strange sort of way. "Cigar" by Remy Latour doesn't really bring to mind any cigar experiences I've ever had. It does have a peppermint-lemon-floor-polish quality to it though, which I'm sure appeals to someone**.

The other is "Network" by Lomani. At first whiff it made me think of computers and BO, but at second whiff it grew on me. I wouldn't bathe in it certainly, but it's better than Kathmandu. And the description amuses me:

Une Eau de Toilette jeune et moderne pour tous ceux qui voient le monde sans barrieres ni frontieres. Parfum du present, parfum du futur, Network, le parfum qui rapproche***.

So, as I was experimenting with all of these fragrances and depositing them in my bathroom I found my other perfumes. Bellagio is still my all time favorite scent, which is a good thing because I have enough of that stuff to last until my grandchildren die.

And I found Eden, my horrific mistake of a purchase at the duty free in the Naples airport. I liked the bottle and the box and the name. I was in a hurry and I forgot to make sure the scent was pleasant. See, I had been sick and quite stoned (probably a little drunk, too) and hadn't realized that my armpits smelled like a used camel's ass. By the time I did realize it, my deodorant was in my checked baggage and I was horrified to think that I would be imposing such a thing on my fellow passengers (not to mention the friend that was picking me up in Berlin). If you've ever tried to buy deodorant in an Italian airport you know that it is impossible so I headed to the perfume section. Instead of subjecting my fellow passengers to used camel ass, I subjected them to the cotton-candy-roach-spray that is Eden. Honestly, I'm not sure which was worse. No one died though, so that's good.

*That's not entirely accurate. If someone really said that to me, I'd call them a jackass, smack them, and skip merrily away

**Someone I hope I'm never stuck with in an elevator

***Yes, I still hate the French language, that doesn't mean it can't amuse me

Dude, I'm SO Over The Pyramids

As SuperMikeyPants has offered an East African Safari of Vengeance and International Miscreanting, I cannot contain my excitement solely in the comments section. I must devote an entire post to it.

This is what he had to say:

Would you care to go to East Africa and help me hunt down and kill a woman who stole several thousand dollars from me? Then we can swing over and castrate Marmaduke. Then, just for fun, we can climb to the top of the Great Pyramid and have a peeing contest (distance and amount)

My first question is, of course, which East African country? Second, will you be expecting to perform a molten-glass enema on your nemesis? Third, will you be willing to castrate Marmaduke yourself? I have no desire to be anywhere near his genitals. It took me months to get the smell of his BO off my backpack, and that was just from his arms. I don't wanna know what kind of crotch-rot he's got going on.

I'd be willing to take you on for the peeing contest, at least in the amount category* as distance has never been my forte. I would ask for a change of venue though. The Pyramids really are just big piles of rocks. No, really. In my photo album that's how they're labeled "Oooh, look! Me next to another pile of rocks". And then there are a couple which are cleverly staged (by Marmaduke, incidentally, and "cleverly" is sarcastic in case you didn't pick that up) with a full Pyramid behind my head. These are labeled "Me, with a Pyramid Hat."

The piles of rocks are just not that exciting. I suppose if mummies came out and chased you it would be a different story. But no, it's just sand, rocks, hot sun beating down on your head and turning your skin a sick shade of purple, and, if you've been smart enough to wear sandals, little bits of camel turd between your toes.

*One of my SuperPowers as SuperKate is the possession of the WonderBladder. It was one of my first recorded SuperPowers, actually. And when I was in Alaska, due to certain reservations I had about peeing in front of other people, I didn't pee for 6 days. When I finally did break down and let go I was peeing for a good 4 minute stretch. Yes, it was timed.

Oh, Marmeduke...

Against my better judgment (and mostly because I was bored), I wrote back to Marmeduke. It's amazing, not even two letters in and he's already trying to guilt trip me into getting him a US visa. Which won't work, and not just because I have no idea how to go about such things. A visa to Yemen, sure, I know how to arrange that (or at least I know who to call), a visa to Italy, no problem if you like bureaucracy and standing in long lines (although it's much more fun to live there illegally), or even a visa to Eritrea can be arranged (they've got camels on them). But the US? Nope, not a chance. Never having needed a US visa, I wouldn't even know where to begin. Dear Marmeduke doesn't understand this though. And worse, refuses to believe it.

Here is his latest literary masterpiece:

hi : kate
how are you ? for long time i didn't hear such kind of information.allways you have some where to visit[*] .what about your french course[**] .it's seems that you realy lucky .either having the possibilities to travel anytime and everywhere you like . for me up to this moment i didn't get who will hlep me to get the american visa. for that reason i don't have much confidece even over you .how long that will be easy for you to me visa from there ? is that one diffecult? no is not.
thank

*In my response to his first letter I said I was thinking about going to Kyrgyzstan in August, provided things have calmed down over there a bit

**I was in a French class earlier in the year, it renewed my hatred of that horrid, horrid language so now I'm studying Russian again.

Deliverance Meets The Muppets

In one of my classes I sit in the front row. Directly behind me are two girls with bimbo-esque names and a tendency to carry on the kind of witty banter that one would expect from blondes with big boobs and nonexistent IQ's. If one were simply listening to them, one would come to the immediate conclusion that they were any 19 year old boy's wet dream come true. If one were simply listening to them.

One of them, we'll call her Tiffany, is indeed blonde. She's from California and has Valley Girl down to a science. While being moderately deficient in the boob department she could still be considered a wet dream come true (I'm guessing at this as I'm not a 19 year old boy), were it not for the fact that her facial features make her look like a creation Jim Henson would have been proud of. I've never seen such a Muppet-esque person. It's incredible really. I have to restrain myself from speaking like the Swedish Chef when I look at her.

The other one... Well, while psuedonyming her "Gargantua" would indeed be descriptively accurate, I fear that it is a bit too cruel and life will find some way to punish me for it. Anyway, this poor child, I'm afraid, has come straight out of Deliverance*. One would assume that since she's at university she should have at least had a cursory education. But I'm learning that making assumptions is a very dangerous thing. Today, she asked me how to spell "burgers", a word with which I'm sure she's well-acquainted, for a web project we were doing. Her first guess was "bergas". At least she knew it started with a "b"... Her favorite verb in the past tense is "done" as in "I done finished it last year." And she really likes "fixin' to" for the future tense. I could go on and on...

Anyway, I'm never sure whether cackling with mad laughter or running away screaming is a more appropriate response. The mind boggles, really.

*Okay, so I've never actually seen Deliverance, but my mother's people** are from a small town on the West Virginia/Kentucky border so I feel that I have some basis for making a comparison.

**The only reason I admit this is that I was adopted and do not share any close genetic ties to them.

Eat My Boogers

I think that is probably my favorite epithet. I have no real reason to use it today, I'm just having fun typing it. It's nearly as lovely as "Drink my chunky juice."

I discovered this morning that my favorite forensic pathologist was mistaken when he told me that crepitus is the sound made when the ends of broken bones grate together. Dictionary.com defines crepitus as "a noisy discharge of gas from the intestine." Which gives a rather amusing twist to my former favorite epithet; "May you be beaten until the crepitus makes your attaker so nauseated they cannot continue."

Happy Face

I'm so happy. I got my Yves Saint Laurent moisturizer today, so my face has gone from desert sandpaper to luxuriously smooth and delightful. I know I like to rant about the French, but they do perfume and beauty stuff very well. I'm completely addicted to anything YSL. Just don't make me say the name out loud.

Anyway, I'm also happy about this moisturizer because it didn't come with a "warning may cause excessive drying" sticker on it. I kept that other one just for the novelty of it.

That's all my news for the afternoon.

Ooooh! Wait, I guess the communication gods love me today or something, because not only did I get that email from "A", but I also got one from Faye, who I did the International Tour Manager course with almost 2 years ago, inviting me to a tour manager's convention in April. And then I got an email from LittleJohn who I knew in Sicily in the Fall of 2002. And those last two weren't even on my mass mailing list. I feel so popular.

Ego Gratification

I got another letter in response to the bulk mail that I mentioned earlier. This one makes me feel all warm and gooey inside. "A" had a big crush on me. It was really cute in a sad kind of way.

hi kate,
how are you and how is everthing with you? hope you doing better fine been long time no hear from you? i came back from dubai and now stil at same place anyway when i going to see you again? hope you dicide to come here again we're really miss you. hope you mail me al them time is been a week now i'm not open email, sory i just read your mail now. hope to see you kate, miss you too,

big hug
a

But What Does It Mean?!?

Okay, so I was sending out a mass email the other day. I don't usually stoop to such things, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. In a moment of bad address book clicking I managed to send a copy to Marmeduke* instead of Maria Teresa**. There isn't a happy history between Marmeduke and myself. I broke off communication with him in December when he wouldn't stop badgering me to get him a visa to the US...

Anyway, as his English is always puzzling, I thought I would post what he wrote back to me to see if anyone else can figure it out. I'm deeply curious as to what a "fuky masserge" is and I know from experience that asking him will not bring enlightenment...

hi
for long time i couldn't recieved anything from you after i had this fuky masserge in front me .how is your study .and all what concerne you .why?what's going on.
where you are now ? what are doing at the moment ? thanks looking forward to hear from you ok.

*Psuedonyms have been used, although it's close enough...

**I dunno why I don't just list her under "Teta" as that's what she prefers to be called...

Who's Yer Daddy?

I just felt like saying that. Carry on.

Is That Shallow?

I've been re-evaluating my life recently. My career goals have changed to involve marrying someone filthy rich and spending the rest of my life on a yacht. And sipping cocktails. And never being awake before 3 in the afternoon (sunshine is highly overrated). Hubby-dear will love his job (and probably his secretary) sooooo much that he'll spend most of his time at the office and only copter in for a couple of days a month. But that's okay, afterall, I'll have the pool boy, or whatever equivalent they have on yachts, for entertainment.

Yep. That's the life for me.

And we'll sail to Tristan da Cunha. Just for the novelty of it.

What Easter Is For...

I watched The Life of Brian twice today. And ate at Denny's with two very lovely people who are trying to entice me into their evil world of pyramidic telecommunications schemes. It would be amusing to help them take over the world, but really, I'm much too lazy to be bothered.

Blue Agave

Funny things that Airn, the Chief Wankress of Wankertopia, and I have discussed recently:

-Jello bagging (with facial tatoos and hand sanitizer, of course)
-Back, crack, and sack waxing
-Triplets and taxi driver head
-Poup'ee
-Grogans
-Boy nipples (well, I think it's an amusing topic, anyway)
-Getting buggered at hotels

I'm sure I've forgotten lots of things, but that's a good start.

Happy Kate Dance

So, I checked my email this afternoon after getting back from coffee with the lady from my Italian meetup (more on that in a second) and discovered that Ed came through! He was my last resort, but he did indeed have my KateBait's email address. I've been Happy Kate Dancing ever since. It's very cute. And if my dogs were here they would be looking at me strangely*.

Anyway, so I had a very lovely conversation with Italian Meetup Lady. We talked for about 2 1/2 hours. I never knew a medium chai could last so long. We were sitting outside before it got too windy and she saw two of her friends, one of whom had Fraggle hair. I think her name was Jan. Her partner had very spiky red hair, much like my mother's former hairstyling disaster**.

Anyway, it was very amusing to me a little later on because I mentioned one of my ex's who is very much a boy (and has a very boy name). It was entirely funny how quickly she suddenly remembered an errand she had to run and excused herself.

So, I didn't have to put out, but I did have to pay for my own chai.

After that my darling Chipper called me and we went to a middle school art show (he's getting his master's in education and wants to be an elementary school art teacher, so we were there networking). I dunno if I just have low expectations for pre-pubescent creatures, but I was amazed by the quality of some of the work. One girl had made an exquisite silver bracelet (which of course also made me insanely jealous - we weren't allowed to play with metal and solder when I was in middle school).

Now I'm off to compose an alluring yet respectable email to Travelin' Man.

Buona serata!

*My dogs are greatly amused by Happy Kate Dances, Kinzey will even join in sometimes

**Some people can wear such a style well, my mother cannot, but it was fun to call her Spike while it lasted

I'm a Lazy Bastard

So, I don't feel like writing much.

Anyway, I'm all registered for classes in Rhode Island this summer, which is nice because it means I can graduate a year and a half earlier than my projected graduation date. Woohooo! Although it also means that I have to take 2 very intensive accounting classes... Oh well, I'm just happy that I'll be graduating before I turn 26.

Then I have every intention of going to Central Asia. By then it will have been 10 months since I left the US (no, I don't count the 2 measley hours in Mexico as leaving the States). It will be a miracle if I make it that long. Five months has been hard enough.

Yeah... so much for not writing a lot...

*Smacks Self On Forehead*

Now you've gone and done it, Katherine*.

*Sigh*

It's official, I'm going out for coffee on Friday with the woman from my Italian meetup group. I'm pretty sure she thought I was hitting on her when we spoke on the phone. I was just trying to be friendly and cover up the fact that I was canvasing Travelin' Man. I hope I'm not expected to put out.

I'll post a play-by-play though. Hopefully it will be dreadfully dull and uneventful. *Sigh*

It's sort of ironic - if she were a male she would absolutely be KateBait. Maybe I should switch teams. Problem with that is I like the way boys smell. And, well, cocks are lovely things. Oooh, and the only boobs I properly appreciate are my own.

It'll never work. I'll break her heart. And she'll run away weeping piteously. And bite crunchily into the bleak graham-cracker of depression. And I'll end up having to switch teams out of guilt. Doh!

Perhaps I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

I'll let you know.


*This is how I refer to myself when I'm annoyed with something I've done

Today

I bummed two menthols from Tall-Blond-Guy-With-Legal-Troubles from my English and Sanitation classes (I'm not good with names, but I remember people's life stories better than I should). And we bitched about the asinineness of the classes we share.

As I was driving home, Z called me and it was lovely although full of those nearly uncomfortable, "I have no idea what you just said but I'm not asking you to repeat it for the 6th time," moments. He always thinks it's so hilarious that I know it's him when I answer the phone (caller ID is fun like that), and he thinks I'm silly for always asking him to send me fahsah (a thick meaty stew that is delightful). Apparently I'm invited to his brother's wedding this summer, so I might have to add Yemen to my summer travel list.

I went to KFC and somehow ended up with 4 wings instead of the boob and drumstick I had asked for. Oh well.

Then, on my answering machine was a confused message from the registration lady for the travel writing course I was trying to enroll in. The confusion has been unconfused (phrases like that are why I need writing classes), so everything is happy.

Ooh, and in my efforts to canvas* a guy I met last week, I've attracted the attention of this lesbian lady who speaks Italian with a very bad American accent. She didn't even have the information I was looking for (namely Travelin' Man's email address - incidentally he also speaks Italian with a very bad American accent, but he is still extreme Kate-Bait). Oh well, we're meeting up to speak Italian and talk about travel. Perhaps I'll get a free coffee out of the deal...

Yeah. That's my day. Next time I promise something more interesting.

*Canvasing is a clever euphamism for stalking

I Hate The Post Office

I have no water this afternoon as the post office is full of imbeciles. They couldn't handle a simple thing like delivering a water bill. So now I have no water. Bastards. I'm thirsty. I wanted to take a shower. I have dishes to wash. I just had a class about foodborn illnesses and what happens when people aren't hygienic. And I have no water.

Stoopid post office. We've been having a war since my parents went to Arizona. I've tried to be nice, you know, writing polite little letters "Please forward Bubba and Trisha's mail to Arizona and only deliver SuperKate's mail here." That didn't work very well, although it did mean that there was a sticker placed in my mail box that said in red letters "Mail for SuperKate only until 5/01". But still, the mixups continue. I shall have to resort to not-so-idle threats, I suppose. Like, "Cease and desist or I shall defecate in your car."

Aren't ceasing and desisting the same thing?

Eh... I dunno... Who cares. I have to go to a meeting at the Career Services Office now. Then I'm going to shoot myself. After that, I've got an Italian language meet-up group. So far only one other person is signed up to go. Hopefully he won't show up with a bottle of prosecco and tell me how good my accent it. We all know how that ends up...

Anyway...

I'm Not Annoyed With Italian People Today

So, I take back the small weener comment.

Being that I was very annoyed with everything in general, I had to find some group of people to pick on. As Mauro Day is in 2 days, male Italian seemed to fit quite nicely. Gotta love anniversaries.

Anyway...

I have 6 stunning hours of classes tomorrow. Bright and early, and probably with a nice dusting of snow, hospitality information technology. Then, evil speech class (well, the class is evil, I'm not sure yet if the speeches will be). And finally, sanitation, where I get to learn various and sundry reasons never to eat ever again. Mmmmmm, botulism...

Swingin' Poonany

Good morning!

I had to remind myself three times to put pants on before the Pizza Hut delivery guy got to my house. This is one of the dangers of living alone and spending most of my time in the basement - I forget that partial/complete nudity isn't the most socially acceptable way to go around.

Incidentally, Italian men have small weeners.

It's Friday, Woohooo!

I was just scrolling a bit too quickly through my junk mail and my brain got kind of confused. There was an add for some company's "Nursery Sales" and then below that "Kitty Mall" was advertising something else. My brain saw "Nursing Kitty Smells". That would have been interesting spam. I would have read it. Well, maybe... It's almost as good as "Amy* Likes It In All 3 Holes" or "Bigger Your Dick" which are my all-time favorite spam subject lines.

Today I've decided that I love the hotel industry if for no other reason than the acronyms and abbreviations that are commonly used. Today in hospitality information technology we got to learn about PMS and POS. It's always makes me insanely giggly on the inside that the professor can talk about it all with a straight face. I couldn't do it. I'd have to excuse myself and go guffaw in the hallway for a bit when it came time to say, "The PMS runs everything, especially the POS connected to it. And when it breaks down, everything gets very messy."

Then, in wanted adds, assistant front office manager positions are listed as "Ass FOM". When I graduate I want to be the assistant guest relations person just so I can list "Ass GRP" on my resume.

*This is why I can't take people named Amy seriously anymore.

Aren't Neighbors Lovely?

SuperMikeyPants brought this to my mind when he was talking about his ever-so considerate pigeon immitating neighbor.

The house next door to mine always smells like used maxipads. I'm perplexed by this as the only person that lives there is a single, older gentleman. It's disturbing. And it makes me want to run away screaming whenever I go get the mail.

It is fundamentally wrong for a house to smell like used maxipads. There should be an ordinance or something. I suppose it could smell worse, like Kathmandu, but that would be so horrific I would have moved long ago.

Someone Shoot Me Please

It's 8:20 on a Monday night and I'm ready to sleep. There is something fundamentally wrong with that. I should be out getting trashed so that I can arrive in my new classes tomorrow properly hungover and make the correct first impression.

*Sigh*

I feel like such an old lady. Soon I'll be writing about my arthritis and the fantastic new incontinence medication I've found. Mmmmm, incontinence medication... Breakfast of Champions.

Like I said, someone shoot me please. Preferably in the spleen. Repeatedly. And then could you please remove my toenails? And perhaps wax my eyebrows just to make the torture complete.

Thanks.

Are You Dating a Spy?

I think I was.

Of course, I have an entirely over-active immagination. But still, there IS evidence. And enough international intrigue to make even the most hardened espionage novelist cream himself.

*Sigh*

This is what happens when I get bored and start googling people. Unfortunately when I google myself, all I get are articles written about post-partum depression. It seems I share my name with an uppity gynecologist. Okay, so I don't know if she's really uppity, but I've read some of the articles and she seems rather pretentious. And boring.

I think I'll change my name to Fellatia Poonany. It's a good name. Wholesome, Biblical, and all of that.

George Bush and Toe Socks

Airn o'Bucket says:
"dude! you so did not do justice to my george bush and toe socks dream! jerk!"

So, I say:

I'm not a jerk. Yer a jerk! And you smell like toes. And weasels. But you're still my favorite Airn o'Buckets. Or should I call you... Muffy?

In any event I was merely trying to protect your anonymity by not transcribing more of your dream into my blog. Had I said any more, everyone would have known who I was talking about, duh!!!

So, for all the world to know, Airn o'Buckets o'Muffy had a dream about George Bush wearing toe socks. She was his intern, and actually liked him. Apparently there was no Lewinsky action going on though (forshame, that's what interns are for). Anyway, the rest of everyone else didn't like him (duh!) so when she brought him along to a nice family barbecue naturally everyone was upset. He did wear toe socks though.

Regretfully, as it is almost 2 weeks later, I cannot remember any more of the dream.

Oooooh! Last week in Arizona I saw a bumper sticker that said, "Real men like Bush." It made me giggle in an apprehensive "I shouldn't find this funny, but it is amusing" kind of way.

That was the night my mother got completely trashed on the "special" cappuccino and couldn't remember what ravioli were ("you know, those little squares of pasta stuffed with things" - honestly I could have helped her and we wouldn't have had to call the waiter over, but the first 3 times she described it she said "squares of chicken" instead of pasta). And people wonder why I want to move to Kyrgyzstan...

Anyway...

Cheese and Monkies

I'm back from AZ. It was interesting. My parents never cease to amaze me (or to make me want to run away screaming).

For some reason my father is cultivating a new BO. It's some kind of mix between unwashed armpit, laundry detergent, toes, and goldfish*.

We've also re-opened the debate on turn signals. I think they should be used before turning or changing lanes. He disagrees, feeling instead that they shouldn't be turned on, except occasionally, and several hundered yards after one has turned or changed lanes. He also feels quite strongly that once the turn signal has been turned on, it should be left on for the duration of the journey. Any attempts to change his mind are met with, "Women don't know anything about driving," or "I don't need a back-seat driver." So, I reverted to punching him on the shoulder whenever the incessant clicking drove me to the point of insanity**.

I guess sometimes violence IS the answer.

He also picks his nose incessantly. And breathes louder than any individual I've ever known who didn't have some kind of severe respiratory ailment.

I think it was Dr.Phil who said "You know you've got a problem in a relationship when even the sound of the other person's breathing makes you want to strangle them." Or something to that effect.

My mother... Ohhhh, where to begin? The list it too long. I'll get so annoyed typing it that I'll just start hissing and spitting like a vexed camel. That would be kind of cute, actually...

Anyway...

The puppies were nice. They're still as neurotic as ever, which is reassuring.

I also met some other interesting people in the retirement community (they advertise it as an "Active Adult Community"... which sounds like some kind of swinger's haven if you ask me). For some reason they were all Republicans though. Where do Democrats retire? Or Libertarians?

I think that's enough for today...

*Okay, fine I made up the goldfish part, but it's still unpleasant and horrible to be stuck next to in a car for 4 hours.

**It doesn't take much on road trips, especially if Barbara Streisand has been played repeatedly...

A New Alien Conspiracy

I'm nearly feeling guilty for not having written anything since Friday. A lot has happened. I've also been very bored.

I'm convinced that saguaro cacti are actually aliens. No, really. There are great herds of them, just waiting creepily along the side of the road. Have you seen the way they stare menacingly at you as you drive down the highway? As if given the opportunity they'd lure you from your car only to wrap you in a prickly, deadly embrace. They're just waiting to take over the planet. I'm sure of it.

It makes me want to run away screaming, but as I feel that way quite frequently it isn't really anything to get excited about...

I was going to say something about cactus porn as well, but it's not letting me put in the link. So, if you feel like amusing yourself, do a google image search of "funny cactus".

Anyway, I'm going to go sleep. Apparently we're going to Mexico tomorrow morning...

A presto...