I'm Glad I Didn't Pay For That!

I got an offer today for a free tarot reading from Astrology.com. As it was free and I am fond of these kind of things, I decided to look into it. After a brief argument about the necessity of having Flash 7.0 (which I don't have), I convinced the site to email me the reading in text format.

Honestly, I could have gotten a better reading from a goldfish.

First off, because I opted for the free instead of paid reading, it only showed me one card. How can one possibly be expected to get a proper feel for the reading with only one card? Astrology.com says, "Only your full reading can give you the information you need to fully understand, and improve, your situation. Upgrade to your full tarot reading today and discover what the future may hold." Which would cost two dollars. Ummm, no thanks. I'd rather use that $2 for something useful, like Tylenol for the headache I got trying to get the damn half-assed report sent to my email.

Second, it said the card was reversed, which was significant, and then proceeded to give me a detailed description of what it would mean if the card weren't reversed. Having some familiarity with the card, I knew what it meant anyway, but for a beginner or someone who didn't know anything about it that would have been highly unhelpful.

All in all, I was quite disappointed. But I dunno what I really expected. The quality of their horoscopes has been going downhill over the last couple of years as well.

Anyway, for those who are interested* a good site for horoscopes is The Future Minders. For free (and complete) tarot readings I like Lotus Tarot, World of Froud, and Facade.

Lotus tarot is nice because she tailors the card descriptions to the specific readings and the position the card is in rather than a generic description that you have to decipher yourself. She doesn't, however, allow reversals.

The World of Froud isn't properly tarot. It's oracle, so the names and symbols are quite different from regular tarot (as well as there being a different number of cards) but it covers the same scope of things.

Facade is just fun (and I have a permanent link to them on the sidebar). It allows reversals, lets you choose your deck, has a large selection of readings, and there are also several other diversions on the site as well ranging from I Ching to a coin flip.

*They're fun diversions when you have nothing better to do than waste lots of time, and if you get your horoscope emailed to you it means that every morning you'll have at least one email (for some reason this makes me feel loved and happy)

Boys, Blisters, and Badgers

Okay, so there were no badgers involved. I just needed another B and didn't feel that "babies" would be appropriate. Not that badgers really are but it's a fun word that I like quite a lot.

Anyway, I got to spend a most entirely lovely afternoon partaking of lunch*, chattering in the rain, and wandering around a shopping center with Chipper and Trebor. Who could ask for anything more?

We lounged on sofas and had group tickling sessions in Pottery Barnesque stores. We grabbed Chipper manboobs with pincers in the Discover Channel Store. We sipped chais and coffees in the Tattered Cover**. We chattered and babbled on topics ranging from ether-popsicles to KateCheese. Really, I could not have asked for a better way to spend an afternoon. :0)

*Greek*** because the Ethiopian place was closed

**Where I also saw CreepyMorroccanDude (from one of my Meetup groups - I seem to run into him everywhere) and his brother**** so I was obliged to go chat a bit in a horrid combination of French and Arabic, but that is a whole other story

***One of the abundant Greek places bequeathed with the name "Pete's" because that is apparently what the Greek mafia wants Greek restaurants in Denver to do

****There really is such a thing as too much family resemblance

*Sigh*

I don't feel well. And I feel like having a protracted whine about it. So neener, you're all subjected to it.

Around 9ish this evening I got a nasty case of the chills. I was shaking so badly I couldn't hold onto my glass of water. Then I went upstairs and commandeered the the jacuzzi tub. I was a bit alarmed that even though the water was around 110F I still had goosebumps and was cold.

Then I returned to my lair and called Chipper to warn him that I might not be able to partake of Ethiopian food with him and Trebor for lunch.

I attempted a bit of sleep and then my most wonderful and darling Beaky called me. We chattered for a bit, but I had to call the marathon conversation off because I was tired and feeling a bit nauseated. It was good that I did.

I prayed to the porcelain god from 10:30 until about 11:20, alternately hurling and attempting to sleep on the floor.

Now I can't sleep. I still feel like ass, but there is nothing left for my system to purge (aside from the aforementioned ass phenomenon). I'm over the chills at least, but that means I'm horribly, horribly hot now.

Every time I've tried taking Tylenol (Panadol for you non-Americans in the audience), it has quite unpleasantly gotten itself ejected from my insides.

So I'm miserable and I hate everything for the moment. Perhaps the morning will bring better things. One can only hope...

The Alarming State Of My Ass

I dunno what exactly causes it, but living with my parents makes my ass expand at a terrifying rate.

A pair of jeans that a mere four weeks ago could have been removed without undoing the button or being unzipped are now getting noticeably tight. It’s quite disturbing.

I don’t eat any differently, or do a different amount of exercise, so I don’t really understand it.

Perhaps I have a subconscious fear that one night while I’m sleeping they’ll drug me and take me out and leave me in woods to fend for myself and I’ll need the extra ass to sustain myself until I figure out that hunting and berry gathering thing. Who knows?

If I do get left in the woods though, I probably won’t have any way of telling you. Just assume I’m out there making friends with bears and squirrels.

A Full Bed

Last night I didn’t sleep alone. It was the first time since moving into this house in August that I didn’t sleep alone*. I had two small furry creatures with me.

No, I didn’t somehow manage to pick up two Italians, although that could have been amusing.

The furry creatures in question were my puppies. My ‘rents have gone to Vail for the weekend, so I am puppysitting.

It was discovered around 1am that despite being really sleepy**, Kinzie couldn’t handle sleeping*** outside my room on the couch with Misty. Apparently she needs people around her nearly constantly (which I thought she had grown out of). I couldn’t very well leave Misty out there all alone because that would have been rude and she would have pouted at me for days. So I ended up with both of them trying to claim the best spot on my bed****.

Anyway, the night passed mostly uneventfully. I did wake up several times to those little anxiety nightmare type things thinking I had just rolled over into dog vomit, but as it didn’t happen in reality, I’m not complaining.

I’ve also discovered that puppy paws and silk sheets don’t mix very well (much in the same way my callused and lumpy heels don’t mix with the sheets). They were quite fond of the velvet comforter though*****.

*That only applies to this house, although just barely

**She was doing that little kid, "You’ll never catch me admitting I’m tired even though I can’t keep my eyes open and I keep falling over," routine

***She had taken to intermittent howling whenever she would wake up enough to realize she was alone, which isn’t conducive to anyone else sleeping, either

****This usually ended up being where my foot or my arm wanted to be so I unwittingly kicked or smacked one of them and had to spend hours apologizing

*****Then again, who isn’t, I mean, really!

Holy Meatbag!

The Holy Meatbag posted a comment on Essy's page and I fell in love with the name. So now I'm subjecting all of you to it.

Ahhh, The Future

I'd just like to let you all know that Chipper and I are getting married at a drive-up Elvis chapel in Vegas. We haven't set a date yet. But, he's going to be decked out in mismatched plaid, a foofy, lacy bright colored shirt, and saddle shoes. We're also considering tie-dying his hair. My outfit has not yet been discussed, but rest assured it will involve velvet and, if I'm sufficiently talented, blinking lights.

And we shall exchange Ringpops. And take lots of tacky pictures.

We haven't yet decided when we're going to get divorced. It depends on if he wants to move to China with me when I graduate. I could work in an uber fancy hotel, and he could teach English or art at an English school and we could both vigorously pursue beautiful Chinese boys (and their nipples).

It's really quite beautiful, we already argue (and I nag him) like we've been married for years. The only problem is I can't threaten to withhold sex if he's naughty. I'll have to meet Trebor and work out some kind of arrangement so that he withholds sex when Chipper is being bad.

The Hills Are Alive With The Sound Of Music

Musically, today has been an interesting day in my little world. I started off last night with much repeated Diana Anaid, the moved on this morning to E Nomine (with particular attention to the Mitternacht and Wolfen tracks). This then progressed to Enrique Iglesias (fuck off, I love the Hero song). And then, much to my delight I discovered that Steve has a talent he has kept hidden from all of us, so I spent much time listening to him.

Holy Flying Monkies!

I passed all of my classes. With a 3.13 average no less. That wasn't supposed to happen. I just don't understand it. I was all prepared to have to take Sanitation over again but she gave me a D. I shouldn't have gotten an A in English, either. The other grades I pretty much earned.

It's amazing how much a person can slack at this school and still get decent grades. I'll have to aim a bit higher though as the Masters program I've been looking at lately requires a 3.5 GPA.

As I ask myself once again why in the bloody boogery hell I would ever want to go back to school after I get this bloody boogery degree.

Anyway, I'm off to do a HappyIPassedAllMyClassesDance...

They Killed Kate!

Those bastards!

I have to say I've been very disappointed with the season finales of just about every show I've bothered to watch this season. I mean come on, did they really have to have a sniper take out Kate at the end of NCIS? Did they have to shoot the boys in the car at the end of Without A Trace? Did Woody have to be such a dick* at the end of Crossing Jordan?

The finale of CSI was okay, but again I have an objection to the gratuitous use of ants and small Plexiglas boxes. I didn't watch all of Medium, but the ending confused me and Patricia Arquette makes me want to run away screaming in general so it didn't have much going for it to begin with.

The ultimate hope of television as I know it rests on Law & Order: Criminal Intent. But I think we'll be okay as Vincent D'Onofrio has a special place in my heart. Or maybe they'll kill him off as well. With the way things are going it wouldn't surprise me in the least.

As I don't watch anything beyond crime dramas and documentaries, I have no idea how the rest of the TV world is faring, but it can't be good.

*That's just fun to say

Isn't It Thursday Yet?

I don't know what's so special about Thursday. Somehow it seems better than today though. Something to look forward to, I guess.

Sometimes I think my peevishness/grumpiness/general malaise/homicidal tendencies are the sign of some kind of serious underlying mental illness. But after much careful consideration I'm beginning to understand that I'm just really, really bored.

My boredom is of course nearly entirely my own fault. I could be out there doing fun happy things. But to get out of my house I have to go upstairs. And that necessarily means interacting with the 'rents. I'm not willing to subject myself to that kind of torture at the moment...

I could give you reasons for my reticence to go upstairs, but I've already whined enough.

I hope you're all having lovely days.

Eyeballs

My happiness of the day is that I can see again. I got my eyes checked by DrHottiePantsMan. Apparently the reason I couldn't see before is that my prescription had changed significantly since the last time I had my eyes checked.

Only bad thing is that he also dilated my eyes to check for something (I'm never quite sure why they do such things aside from just making people wear those silly little flimsy sunglasses, which, by the way, look really cute on my dog). He did that at about 10:15 this morning and told me I should be back to normal within an hour or two. It's now almost 5:30 and large amounts of light still make me want to claw my eyes out and howl with pain.

My pupils are getting a bit smaller though. I no longer look like a sex-crazed fiend. At least no more than I usually do. I suppose if they're not back to normal by tomorrow I should go back and gouge his eyes out. Although they're such pretty eyes, it would be such a waste.

Anyway, I've been listening to Diana Anaid all afternoon (specifically the "Last Thing" song over and over and over) and it's making me more maudlin than usual. I think I should write a tragic opera or something.

That is all. I'm going to go wrap my head in something light resistant (like velvet) and pout now.

Who Comes Up With This Stuff?

Blue Bunny Ice Cream has a flavor known as Bunny Tracks. It’s delightful and makes lovely RootBeer floats. However, I do have an issue with the name. At least in relationship to the ingredients.

It contains vanilla ice cream, ribbons of fudge, peanut butter and caramel, and little chocolate peanut butter filled "bunnies".

And chocolate covered peanuts.

How can small brown lumps of anything be considered appetizing in the context of something bunnies leave behind?

I’d fire the guy in marketing who came up with that.

On second thought, no I wouldn’t, I’d promote him for being creative and having a fun sense of humor. I’d fire the guy who actually put the idea into production. I would also bitch slap him repeatedly.

Why We Need To Start A Fund For Chipper's Therapy...

I was on the phone with darling Chipper last night. The conversation meandered through all kinds of subjects. Everything from why DurangoGenevieve is an obnoxious twat to why we should get married (for the tax breaks, and just to mess with his mother's mind - heh heh, she wants to meet my parents...).

In the end though, I became deeply worried about his sanity. We were discussing all of the fun happy things we are going to do when he moves in next fall. I said I wanted to make cheese as that has been a life-long dream of mine. He got kind of quiet and I could hear keyboard clicking in the background. I figured he was bored with the conversation and doing some kind of innocent internet canvassing of some sort.

But no.

He was not bored.

It was not canvassing.

And it was not innocent.

The next thing he said was, "What kind of drugs would make you lactate? We should make KateCheese."

After a prolonged barf, I got back on the phone and informed him that he was truly insane and that I had no intention of being milked, ever. We then had an argument about the sanitation of such a thing and why, despite our best intentions, we wouldn't be able to sell such a product, nor even give it away, to Christian homeless shelters.

I tried to distract him with other scintillating topics like how to clean out a colon, but he would not be diverted.

So, I propose that we set up a fund to send Chipper into immediate psychoanalysis. Otherwise we shall soon be seeing products on our shelves like KateCheese, Toast-and-Smegma, and Coffee-Enema-Bagel-Spread.

I would not want to live in such a world...

What Is The Appropriate Reaction?

I just got an email from a friend I knew in Italy. The subject was "Surprise!" The message was blank except for two ultrasound photos of a bambino-in-utero. How do you respond to that? What do you say?

I also noticed a small oddity - the film was dated 26/12/05. Am I smoking crack or is that more than 6 months in the future? For all I know, medical filmy/photo stuff has expiration date or something on it instead of the actual date...

Moving on...

There was a Promise Keeper and his wife in my house earlier. I used the old, "I'm not wearing a bra or pants and I refuse to put them on," excuse to get out of socializing. For some reason it works every time. And it kept them all out of my domain (the basement).

That is all.

My Beaky has left me. My sunshine is gone. I have no reason to get up in the morning. Except on Monday. I'm getting my eyes checked.

Oooh! And she called me from the road today to say that had run over a squirrel. No, no, they didn't hit it. They took it between the tires! Silly squirrel!

That is all, again. This time I mean it. Really.

It's A New Poll!!! Aren't You Excited?

Okay, so the results from the other poll put my new nickname as "The Boobinator" followed closely by "Minge Monkey". Sadly, "Petunia" came in last.

Anyway, now we have a new poll for a top secret project that I cannot tell any of you about. However, Beaky is defective when it comes to making decisions and I'm pretending to be democratic these days (not to be confused with being a Democrat, which happens on occasion, although not lately). So you all get to play a part in something you know nothing about. Isn't that lovely?

Life Takes You To Strange Places

This morning as I was driving to school, the windows down, the perfect Colorado Spring morning flashing by, not a cloud anywhere in the sky, it dawned on me that exactly a year before that moment I had been sitting in an interrogation room in a small country in Africa being yelled at in a completely unfamiliar language.

...

Anders and I had been looking for a Thai restaurant in Asmara, the capital of Eritrea. We had been told that the food was good and the view was stunning. Food was one of the main reasons we were in the country anyway, so we thought we'd give it a try. They had pork. And wine. And beer. Which were all very difficult, if not impossible, to find in Yemen.

Anyway, we found a taxi driver who knew of the restaurant, which was shaped like an air-traffic control tower and set atop a lovely hill in the middle of the city. As we arrived we noticed that there weren't any lights on, so we figured it was closed and we ought to leave. Before we could turn around and go, we were surrounded by guys in fatigues with Kalashnikovs pointed at our heads.

Our taxi driver got out and started to talk to them. A look of alarm spread on his face. Anders began to get rather agitated (the beer he'd had before we left didn't help matters) and wanted to get out of the taxi and figure out what was going on. While our driver spoke a few words in English, none of the rest of them did, and they didn't speak Italian either (it had been an Italian colony, so it wasn't a terribly unreasonable thing to expect), so even if he had remained calm and not had to be forced back in the taxi, he wouldn't really been able to figure anything out anyway.

After yelling, arguing, and looking worried for nearly an hour on top of the hill, our driver was "permitted" to take us down to the police station. Once there, we were again kept in the taxi with guns pointed at us as our driver attempted to explain what was going on to the police. We still had no idea what going on. All we knew was there were a lot of guns and Anders needed to pee.

Probably another hour later we were led out of the taxi to a small, windowless room in the police station. A man came in and started yelling at us in the local language (I can never remember it's name). We just looked at him blankly. Eventually they brought in someone who spoke some English and we were able to explain that we were looking for a restaurant we had heard about from a friend.

The English speaker grinned for a second, then got a stern look on his face and shouted something to the guards that must have meant, "Get them out of here," because we were released with apologies and sheepish smiles.

As we were leaving it was explained to us that because of the upcoming Eritrean National Day celebration, the military had commandeered the restaurant as a lookout for Ethiopian terrorists. They had been instructed to arrest anyone who approached the place, nevermind the fact that a blonde American girl and a drunk Norwegian weren't likely to be doing reconnaissance for anyone, much less Ethiopian terrorists.

Over drinks later in the evening, we reflected that although it was not quite the night we had planned, at least we got an interesting story out of it.

What Dreams May Come... And Bitch Slap You

Everyone I know has been having strange dreams lately. I would go into great detail, but I have and English class in about 4 minutes. Needless to say, this morning I awoke to one where I was digging blindly through my purse searching for my little pouch of party favors, finding instead only breathmints. My other hand was shoved in the face of evil. Which is complicated.

Bite Me

Essy reminded me of this bit of loveliness. I know it has been making the internet rounds for several years now (and I personally got my ass kicked for reading it at the dinner table when I was 16), but it still has the ability to make me collapse on the floor in a puddle of giggles.

So now, for your reading pleasure:

THE TOP 10 REASONS BEER IS BETTER THAN JESUS

-No one will kill you for not drinking Beer.
-Beer doesn't tell you how to have sex.
-Beer has never caused a major war.
-They don't force Beer on minors who can't think for themselves.
-When you have a Beer, you don't knock on people's doors trying to give it away.
-Nobody's ever been burned at the stake, hanged, or tortured over his brand of Beer.
-You don't have to wait 2000+ years for a second Beer.
-There are laws saying Beer labels can't lie to you.
-You can prove you have a Beer.
-If you've devoted your life to Beer, there are groups to help you stop.

Beyond that, for those who are interested, it is now possible to become an ordained minister in the BeerChurch.

I wonder if there is a church devoted to vodka*? That would be more my style as I don't drink beer.

*Methinks it could be the Russian Orthodox Church...

A Question For The Bostonians In The Audience

Just read HAHAHA's recipe for chowder and was wondering if any of you Boston/East Coast types could vouch for it's authenticity. I'm landlocked and the closest we come to chowder is what can be found in a Campbell's soup can.

Also, he says asshat. I like that word. I must start using it more frequently.

Incidentally, I'm collecting and developing a new line of insulting names. "Flaccid Fuckstick" is my favorite so far.

About Beaky...

The lovely and Fantastic BeakerGirl will be out of commission for a while. Her computer has an STD which she can't get treated until she get's back in Cali. So, she might be around sporadically but don't count on it.

Also, I've changed her name to Mrs. Robinson.

That is all.

I Really Don't Have Anything To Say

It's been sort of a blah day. Some silliness was had when Beaky and I went for coffee, but there were also obnoxious cheerleader brats so we didn't even really get to enjoy that.

Anyway, darling Essy, it was lovely speaking to you last night. Neither Beaky nor I can remember if I told you to fuck off, though. So, if I did, I would like to apologize. I was in a bit of a mood and for some reason that was my phrase of the evening. Also, the same apology goes to Beaky and Chipper, although they know that I love them beyond words and meant for them to fuck off only the nicest way possible. And really, it is quite fun to say.

Yeah, that's it I guess. I hope you all are having a fantabulous day.

I'm Not Getting Laid Tonight

I know this because I'm going to drink wine with Travelin' Man. Perhaps this is a good thing. Perhaps it isn't. I'm noticing a disturbing trend though. As the days pass I'm more and more okay with my unlaidness. It's very very very very very very very sad.

Now I'm going to take a nap. Because naps are good.

The Good News And The Bad News

The Good News: I got the results of my ServeSafe exam today. One had to earn at least 75% to pass. I got 95%.

The Bad News: I only did one assignment in the class, so I've got less than 50% of the points possible.

So, I have to take the class again, but not the test. Which is weird. But that's what I get for being lazy. At least when I take the class again, I'll have that one assignment out of the way. And it was a bitch.

On a side note my presentation in Evil Speech Class was well received. I nearly had students ready to grab pitchforks and start a senatorial lynch-mob. Well, not really, but they laughed at the appropriate points and no one fell asleep. I consider that a success.

About The Not Bursting Into Flames Thing...

As you all have probably guessed, I did not burst into flames today despite the fact that I did enter a church and stay within it's walls for more than an hour. Yes, this surprised me as well. The sermon did however focus on Pentacost, so there was quite a lot of talk about flames leaping from the sky. I'm taking this as a warning to not go back.

It was also quite interesting to me that the man who led the sermon was in my confimation class when I was 13. He was a fantastic speaker. Hearing him made me feel rather unaccomplished. Sure, I've been around the world a couple times, but I haven't DONE anything. Aside from drink a lot, learn some stuff, and get in trouble.

Anyway, I remember him as being somewhat of a fuck-off, but apparently he got bitten by the Jesus-bug and is now spreading the good word in an amusing and amicable manner. If I weren't vehemently anti-organized religion I might have actually been tempted to go back.

Quit Your Day Job!

As none of you know, over the past several years I've been creating my very own Evil Empire. The civilized name of my Evil Empire is Miscreants of the World Association, Hookers And Herpes Accepted*. Otherwise referred to as MWA HAHA.

Airn-Who-Is-Also-Called-Muffy was my co-Evil-World-Takeoveress, but she has since run off with Stinky McNoodle and has no further interest in such things. As such, I've had to... liquidate... my previous staff. Security issues, you know.

I'm currently accepting resumes for the following positions within the organization:

Operator of Heavy Machinery: Duties to include the disassembly and exportation of banks as per the "Bank Thievery**" scheme, occasionally knocking down the houses of people I don't like, and anything else that comes up needing heavy machinery.

Resident Snob: Duties to include getting invited to all of the poshest parties and acting like a complete ass 24 hours a day. One cannot expect to have a reasonable Evil Empire without such a person.

Faux-Psychopath: Duties to include all of the things a normal psychopath would be expected to do*** except with genuine social skills and the ability to relax on weekends.

Assistant Faux-Psychopath: Duties to include following the instructions of the Faux-Psychopath and carrying around heavy luggage.

Chef: Duties to include randomly serving food with extreme side-effects**** to visiting dignitaries, fixing lovely little snacks involving cheese for my snacking pleasure, and any other situation that arises in which food is necessary.

Pool Boy: As I don't have a pool the duties will be limited, but I'll see what I can come up with.

If you have the desire to participate in the dastardly deeds of MWA HAHA but do not fit in any of the aforementioned categories, feel free to submit a resume anyway. We're always looking for new blood and fresh ideas.

Salaries are negotiable and based on experience, qualifications, past employer recommendations, and, in the case of the Pool Boy, the squeezeworthiness of the ass in a swimsuit. We offer a nice benefits package as well as yearly bonuses and mugs sporting the flashy new company logo.

We look forward to inducting you into our world of global miscreanting.

Love and kisses,
MWA HAHA co-Founder and President, Superkate.

*I've been looking for something else the HAHA can stand for as we don't really want herpes, but as of yet it's the only suggestion and we can't very well go around saying we belong to MWA, that would strike fear in the heart of no one and if we're not striking fear in anyone's heart just what the bloody hell are we good for?

**I abhor ordinary criminality, think how much more amusing it would be to steal the entire bank rather than just what is inside, imagine peoples' faces the next day

***Lying, cheating, stealing, garroting, etc.

****Such as explosive diarrhea and purple urine

Why Has No One Shot Me Yet?

I keep asking you people to shoot me. Why haven't you? It's really a very simple thing, only takes a second.

Anyway, why, you may be asking, does SuperKate want to be shot (again) this evening?

Well, I'll tell you why. I cannot meet sane, rational, normal people* to save my life.

I just spent 4 hours of my life at yet another Italian meetup group. Completely different people. I got hit on by a very large very white man (glow in the dark skin, white hair, coulda been albino but I don't think so) who kept going on and on about how his Ukrainian ex-wife ran off on him and broke his heart 6 years ago. She only married him for citizenship and stole all of his money, but he's not bitter, at least if you ask him. But you don't even really need to ask him because he'll tell you, over and over.

And then there was the host of the evening. He was lovely and charming and from somewhere in Italy (I kept getting interrupted whenever I tried to ask). His children are all younger than I am, which is a nice change, but I still found it a bit unnerving when he kept feeling my bra strap. His ex is also taking him for all he's worth.

So, in an attempt to avoid those two I thought it would be safe to sit and talk to the nice lady from Costa Rica. It wasn't. I'd tell you more, but I don't want to be blown up. Shot yes, blown up no.

Anyway, I'm invited back tomorrow night for the "grammar session". I don't know if I really care enough about Italian anymore to bother going. It might all be a little too much for my fragile brain to handle**. I might go if I can convince Travelin' Man to go as well, but I don't know if I want to open that can of worms. We're already supposed to meet up on Monday night. 2 days in a row might be overkill. And I don't know if I could ever REALLY date him. I mean, his girlfriend's name is Nancy***. How could I respect someone who shares their life with someone named Nancy?

*I like Beaky anyway

**I have to go to *gulp* church tomorrow as my speech teacher requires us to see someone doing public speaking and then critique it

***Yeah yeah, I shouldn't date him just based on the fact that he's in a long-term committed relationship to someone else, but really her name gets to me more than anything else

Finding The Perfect Quote

I'm having a helluva time finding a quote for Sammy's challenge. I thought I had the perfect one in Lawrence Durrell's Justine but when I found it again I discovered that while it was indeed appropriate for how my life was when I was reading the book (in Egypt, incidentally), a lot has happened since to change my attitudes, opinions and actions. Also, the wording is simply over-the-top maudlin.

The only book that I've really enjoyed lately has been Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World. But since I haven't taken over the world yet, it hardly seems appropriate to try to find something of myself in there.

I've connected with some other characters from novels, but the situations are much too complicated to fit in a single quote. And most often the characters are male. I dunno if this should worry me or not.

I shall keep looking though.

For Steve

Dear Essy (again),

I would like to express my most humble thanks to you for changing my PDF into a jpg and thusly allowing me to put it on the profile. You are fantastic and darling and would have attained SuperHero status in my book had you not already attained it a long time ago.

Thank you,

SuperKate

Challenges, Challenges...

Sammy and SuperSteve have both issued challenges to our little group of bloggers.

Sammy's involves finding a quote that describes you perfectly and then posting it.

Steve's involves posting an audio bit about why you blog. Useful information on how to do this (it only requires a phone) can be found at http://www.audioblogger.com . Thank you for that information Essy.

I'm trying to get myself mobilized to do this. I'm thinking my quote will come from the Alexandria Quartet, and I'm trying to work up the nerve to do an audioblog.

Ummmm, yes.

I Luv It I Luv It I Luv It!

I was just doing a bit of blurfing and came across something fantastic that made me giggle uncontrollably.

Have fun reading why Christine hates her husband.

Oooh! New Fun Toys!

I was just on blogthings taking all of the silly little quizzes while waiting for Blogger to finish up with maintenance.

Anyway, I discovered some new and intersting things that I would like to share with you.

My movie star name is Cheese James
My barfly name is Artichoke Dip Screwdriver
My rockstar name is Snickers Torpedo
My StarWars name is Katkin Wisjoh
My punk rock band name is The Bemused Fork
and
My porn star name is Asslee Bendover (I still like Fellatia Poonany better)

And I have a 14% chance of going to hell. Somehow I think the stats are a bit off.

The Coolest Website In The World

You all gotta check this out. I've been playing for hours. My best score is 298.3.

Dear Essy,

Beaky has asked me to tell you that she would like your picture. She would also like you to know that if you will buy her a ticket to Chicago or Boston as well as 3 glasses of wine and 2 Ultimate Margaritas from Fridays she will ride you like you were a wild stallion. She is intrigued by your tallness and shoe size.

Ordinarily I wouldn't post such things, but she was insistent. And singing loudly and off-key in my car*.

I should mention that she was also quite drunk, which was nearly entirely my fault. Drunken Beaky's are really very amusing.

*So was I, and I have no excuse.

Am I Smoking Crack Or Something?

Okay, so I just posted something entitled "Flying Cunts And Bunny Style" and it showed up, but in a weird way like Essy experienced a week or so ago when his blog was disappearing. I did the whole ending with index.html and the Flying Cunt entry disappeared and everything else came back.

I'm nearly paranoid that it is censorship. But that again makes me wonder why I'm allowed to title something "Buggery, It's All Buggery" but Flying Cunts are right out. Seems a double standard if you ask me.

Let me know if it shows up for any of you all. Although I doubt it will as it isn't even in my entry index within my blogger account.

Life In One Word

From an email I received:

Life is all about ass;
You're either covering it,
laughing it off,
kicking it,
kissing it,
busting it,
trying to get a piece of it,
behaving like one,
or you live with one.

On an unrelated note, I found a website with instructions for making cheese. Life doesn't get any better than this.

Someday, you'll find me on a farm as a wrinkly old lady making cheese and chugging vodka. Well, only if I don't bag my yacht husband.

What Does It All Mean?!?

Okay, so the whole last week people have been finding me.

Last Thursday out of the blue I got two emails within an hour of each other from two very different people I met on eHarmony that I hadn't heard from since January. One of them was very nice and I just went through a slacking phase and wasn't really replying to email and we lost touch. The other I can't for the life of me remember. Well, I remember writing the email he was replying to (after 4 months), but I can't remember a thing about him.

Then, yesterday I got email from both Joern and Christine, whom I knew in Yemen. Joern I had heard from a couple months ago, but Christine and I hadn't emailed since last Fall.

And finally, about an hour ago I got a call from Justin who was a friend of mine in middle school. We used to talk a couple times a year, but then I moved and he moved and I had no idea where to find him. I thought I'd probably never hear from him again, but poof, here he is.

And he wants to go to Egypt, which as you all know isn't my favorite of places on the planet. I tried to convince him that the Pyramids are really just big piles of rocks surrounded by sandy camel turds, but he clings to his romantic notion that they're somehow really much more than that. Silly boy.

Oooh! And the creepy one I keep trying to forget about. There's this fundamentalist Christian girl I met in Italy at least 2 years ago who has started sending me Christian literature. I dunno why she's put me on her list. We only met for about as long as it takes to have lunch, coffee and a stroll, and it was over 2 years ago. She was traveling with an acquaintance of mine and their school group stopped in Siena for an afternoon so I showed them around. Nothing more. I didn't ask to be saved. I didn't even know she was Christian. Gah! It's like high school all over again...

Anyway, I'm trying to figure out what all of these blasts from the past mean, and why they're all happening here at once. Perhaps it means I am overdue for a runaway scream. We shall see.

I've Got A Golden Ticket!

Well, sort of. Hopefully Willy Wonka won't show up.

Anyway, I bought my ticket to the Eastern Hemisphere for the month of August. And in the process, I joined British Air's Executive Club. Dunno what that actually entails, but it sounded good at the time and I didn't have to pay anything extra.

I heard back from my Kyrgyzstani tourist company and in a fit of brilliance they've arranged my 2 week horse trek for $900. Based on other quotes I've gotten, I thought it was going to be twice that. So I'm doing a HappyTravelin'KateDance.

So anyway, if any of you fantastic readers are going to be anywhere near Providence, Rhode Island between June 5th and July 29th, let me know and I'll buy you a drink sometime (I'm doing summer classes out there). Same goes if you're going to be in Europe between August 3rd and 10th. I love EasyJet and RyanAir. They make jetting around "the Continent" so cheap and easy!

Things That Make You Go WTF?

My evening has been most surreal.

Today is my mother's birthday, so to celebrate we went out to dinner with another couple. We ended up at a restaurant called Venice. It's managed by a Sicilian who looks freakishly like a local news broadcaster, and the head chef is another Sicilian, but from a different city. I know this and much, much more because I was forced to speak to them every time they were anywhere near our table.

For some reason my parents think it's fun treat me like a parrot or small child who has just learned a new word and is therefore fun to show off. Not that speaking in Italian was a completely negative thing, it was just a bit odd to be put in such a position. It did allow me to arrange a complimentary birthday dessert (delightful chocolate profiterols) however, without anyone at the table having a clue as to what was being plotted. So I earned some good daughter points, which are always helpful, especially when one is short on cash.

Anyway, it turned out that our waiter is a culinary student at my school. My mother has gotten it into her head that I should now marry this boy. Don't get me wrong, he was very nice and friendly and adorable in a gregarious curly-haired Italian restaurant waiter kind of way. I just didn't think having my mother ask for his phone number would be the most solid foundation for a lasting relationship. I managed to step on her toe rather harshly before she could utter the phrase, "My daughter would like your phone number." So it's good that I got the good daughter points from the dessert as the toe stomping thing earned me a nice chunk of bad daughter points.

So yeah, we all survived dinner. The drive home was interesting in so many ways. My father, who was driving, has decided experimenting with new and exciting ways to make passengers scream is a delightful thing to do after dinner. Missing stop signs is one of his favorite new tools. Hydroplaning when taking a turn to fast on wet roads seems to be quite popular with him as well. And, of course, the old "I don't need to use a turn signal, ever," trick that he's so fond of.

My mother contributed to the interesting ride by being even more difficult to follow (conversationally) than usual. Some people (Beaky*) have random and strange conversational patterns, but there is some underlying logical pattern that one can usually pick up on. My mother lacks this. I think she just forgets what she's talking about midsentence but doesn't let that deter her from continuing on. This is how one gets sentences like, "I don't think my brother will come visit but isn't it nice to have a chauffeur?" My uncle is a lawyer. And we don't have a chauffeur.

At least the evening didn't end in tears. One must be thankful for these things.

*That's one of the many reasons I love you my darling BeakyPants

Buggery, It's All Buggery I Tell You

I just spent the last 2 hours trying to figure out my schedule for next Fall. Hence I'm quite annoyed.

Of course, as I'm classified as a Sophomore*/Plebian/Unworthy Wench, I had the last possible registration date, so more or less none of the classes I had planned on attending have any space left. For some reason they've discontinued the mandatory-for-graduation Hospitality Career Management class, which is reportedly just an obnoxiously time consuming extended resume writing session where everyone gets together and sings kumbaya** while listing their vocational attributes. Anyway, now I have to take the Food Service Management section which I'm sure will piss someone off. They can kiss my ass.

So, it appears I'm going to have just a fantabulous term. With the Career Management Class, Intro to Hospitality, Hospitality Sales and Meeting Management, Economics, Environmental Science, and Sociology all in the mix, there should absolutely nothing left of my sanity by late November.

I do take some responsibility for this as my goals focus entirely on graduating before I turn 26. But, if my school allowed more transfer credits I wouldn't find myself in this kind of a mess. Fuckers.

And they charge up the ass for classes here and we don't learn anything. Honestly I could probably get a better education just by spending a week in a hotel lobby reading the National Enquirer, but that doesn't grant a person that stupid little piece of paper. What's the big deal about a stoopid diploma? When I get mine I would like to wipe my ass with it, but then it wouldn't look so nice framed above my desk and that is all that those things are good for as far as I can tell.

I should probably stop this line of thinking as it was one of those things that prompted me to run away screaming the first time around...

So yeah, have a nice day, and for everyone besides Beaky, be glad that you don't go to my school.

*Or, as one of my professors is fond of saying***, "softmores"

**No, I have no idea what the correct spelling for that word is

***She also doesn't know the difference between "your" and "you're"

Someone I Know Needs To Get Laid

Okay, so probably everyone I know needs to get laid. But judging by Beaky's incredible focus on all sexual matters, I'd say she's reached a critical point.

So at the restaurant the Tropical Mai Tai was sucked which led to a fit of giggles. Then she was blowing her glass of water (bubbles are fun). Another fit of giggles. I suggested she take the waiter for a quickie in the bathroom, but she didn't think she had any party favors in her bag.

She also had a curious tendancy to mix up the gender of the people she was speaking about. It seems that Beaky is looking for a girlfriend, or a boy who doesn't have a boyfriend.

And then on the way home she uttered the most delightful thing. She said, "The bush is giving birth to children." What she meant was there were bushes in a field and small children running around apparently looking for a soccer ball or something. Of course more giggling ensued.

Come to think of it, that was the same stretch of road where she was talking about the birds in the sky but had adopted a sudden British accent and it sounded like "beds" in the sky. Methinks it would be good to avoid that place at least if we don't want to wreck because I've doubled up laughing.

So, Beaky my darling, good luck with Tex, Aaron, Aaron, Jason, Steve, or whoever else might happen to cross your path.

Oh The Beauty Of It

Chipper's parents think we're sleeping together. I find this to be fantastic as they know he's gay. *collapses in puddle of giggles*

Americans Are Not Worst At Geography

Marmeduke is the worst at geography.

I'm particularly pleased to note that among other happy geographical absurdities, Canada is now a US city. I also think that "San Francesico" sounds like a strange sexual position, but my brain is always in the gutter so it isn't unusual for such things to come to mind...

His ideas of types of schools and programs also mystify me. Where exactly does one go for a degree in minimum language proficiency? Moreover, what does one do with it when one is finished?

I can't complain too much though, at least he didn't list Denver as a city he would like to visit. And he's gotten over marriage idea.

hi : kate
how are you ?and how life with you ? i allways feel you are in good sotuition . well here you the kind of school or university i would like to attend including the cities :

1-university of education

2-college international education

3-language of instruction

4-language classes

5-minimum language proficiency

6-english language institute.

at any of the following cities :

1-califonia

2-canada

3new york

4-worchington

5-mexsico

6-philadelfia

7-chicago

8-loss angelos

9-san francesico

10-boston.

just try your best and i wish you best regared.
thank

Happiness And Cheese!

I was finally able to reach my mother who for some reason was not answering her cell phone yesterday. This of course made me madly paranoid that they had driven off the side of the road on their way back to Denver. So I was alternately being sad about my puppies and happily figuring out how I was going to spend the inheritance.

Anyway.

The 'rents are stuck in Albuquerque (I have no idea if that is the appropriate spelling, but it's, you know, that corrupt and miserable little city in New Mexico) due to a random blizzard on Raton Pass. Methinks I could be saved from their presence for another day. Yay!

I'm going to be happy dancing all day.

Chipper's Got A Blog!!!

I'm plugging DarlingChipper's new blog. Everyone should go see it. It's fantastic and everyone should comment. Several times a day.

On a side note, I had to remove all of the phones from Chipper-accessible areas of my house last night to prevent him from drunk-dialing Trebor. He even offered to let me feel his manboobs* in exchange for a phone.

*This doesn't work. As I've explained several times the only boobs I find remotely interesting are my own. Also, if I'm going to be feeling up a boy, he's going to be a straight boy.