Don't Drink The Water

I had some other ideas for titles for this post:

Waiter, Why Is There Pubic Hair In My Tea?

or

Tea Bagging For Sophisticates

Anyway, this year I bought myself a spa kit for Christmas. Today I partook of the "bath tea". Otherwise known as a little sachet filled with enough lavender, hibiscus, rose petals, and chamomille to turn a bathtub full of water the same color as a kiddie pool filled with undiapered-unpottytrained-preschoolers-who-have-just-gorged-themselves-on-KoolAid. Granted it smelled a whole lot better than that, but still it was a bit strange to be submerged in a warm pool of yellow water.

Some Pictures From Kyrgyzstan (Finally)

Nurik and I in a yurt made by his mother.
Cholpunbai, me, and Cowboy again in the yurt.
Me, Cowboy, and Irena in front of our saddles in the orchard near the yurt.
The reindeer farm we visited on the second day of the trip.

Welcome To The White Grave

Okay, so there's this country in Central Asia called Kazakhstan (not to be confused with Kyrgyzstan, which is my current favorite country in the world). Its president*, Nursultan Nazarbayev**, is going rather insane.

For reasons best known inside his own apparently rotting brain, he decided to move the capital of his country to Astana. While this is more central (and closer to the Russian border) than the former capital, Almaty, it is also quite possibly the coldest capital city in the world. Locals refer to it as "the white grave."

Maybe I'm way off base, but it seems to me that when the name of a place includes the word "death***" it is best avoided, not made the capital of one's country. Perhaps in his delusions he neglected to consult his PR people. Who knows.

Anyway, this new cold capital is looking to host an Olympics at some point. Somehow I don't think the world is yet ready for the White Grave Olympics. I could be wrong though. We shall see.

*Dictator

**With a name like that I think insanity was inevitable even without the buckets of vodka and decades spent under Soviet rule

***Much like my personal favorite, the Hadramawt**** region/desert in Yemen

****Death awaits

Ooh! Oooh! New Fun Drinking Game!!!

(the following is stolen from Smiling Maniacally who stole it from the Yellow Dog Blog which I cannot seem to access)

Hey, gang, the weekend's almost here and what better way to forget you temporarily live in GOP-America than to drink so much that Michelle Malkin begins looking attractive and Sean Hannity starts to sound smart? As a public service toward that end, the Yellow Dog Blog presents the Republican-Spin Drinking Game.

Here's how it works: If you don't have a well-stocked liquor cabinet, go to your favorite watering hole at, say, 4:00 PM or so on Friday and ask them to tune the television to MSNBC or CNN. Then, start the mayhem!

1. Take a giant swig of your drink every time a Bush administration official says anything having to do with GOP corruption is "part of an ongoing investigation."

2. Down a shot of Rumpleminze every time a Republican calls for an "up or down vote" on a judicial nominee. Warning: eliminate this component of game if Alito confirmations have begun.

3. Take a very small sip of your beverage every time you hear the phrase "Iraq is the central front in the war on terror." You'll hear this one a lot, so pace yourself.

4. If you notice any Republican saying "retreat and defeat" and/or "cut and run" take a good, long drink of water. This will keep you hydrated as you'll hear these all night.

5. Take a stiff belt of Jack Daniels every time you hear a member of the GOP refer to the "liberal Democrats in Congress" or to Democrats as "the party of no ideas." Also, pop an OxyContin or two in honor of Rush Limbaugh.

6. Take a slug of a low-alcohol aperitif every time you notice references like "the war came to America in 2001," "September 11" or "9/11." You need to last until at least midnight - don't be stupid.

7. Any variant of "spreading freedom" or "freedom on the march": Chug a beer. If they add "democracy" to any "freedom" reference, add a shot of Cuervo Gold.

8. If any GOP enemy - foreign or domestic - is accused of "hating our freedom" or launching an "out-of-touch attack," eat some brie on a baguette and wash it down with some real Bordeaux - that really pisses off the Far Right.

9. If you hear the phrase "artificial timetables," do a shot of Jagermeister. Spin on your bar stool five times. Try not to vomit on the right-winger next to you.10. Listen for any references to "completing the mission" or "nothing less than complete victory." If you hear those, chug a full Boilermaker and yell "Hooah!" at the top of your lungs.

There you have it.

A couple of caveats:

* Do not play this game while watching Fox News or any press briefing with Scott McClellan, lest you end up in the emergency room with alcohol poisoning.

* Do not compete with a Republican. They are so accustomed to hearing and absorbing these empty phrases that they won't notice the bulk of them. You'll get drunk while they just sit there slobbering and staring at the TV.

* Do not plan on driving home. These words are all the Republicans have got - so it's gonna be a long night.Have fun - and be safe.

News From The Inner Realms Of Katedom

First off, I do not have a new roommate. Boy got a job interview in Seattle so he hasn't bothered me. While I was looking forward to the blogging material I would have gotten from the experience, I have been happy dancing since he called to tell me he wasn't coming. Chipper swears he's going to move in next weekend. I think he has forgotten that next weekend is Christmas.

Second, yesterday I played the Sims2 for 18 hours. For some reason all of my Sims are sluts and man whores... Who would have ever guessed that one?

Third, I've got fantastic double standards when it comes to making fun of people's English skills. Marmeduke's English never ceases to make me collapse in a puddle of giggles. Cowboy's English is much worse, but it just strikes me as cute and I wouldn't think of mocking it in a mean-spirited way.

This is the last email I got from him:

Hi Kate!
I am so feeling about your problem with skin. I wont so that you teach me english and I with enjoyment Tought speak russian. I think I don,t have practik so that transport people On big car, becouse is danger,but first time i drive and work on smoll car In Horizon Treval. If you wont to send me something on my birthday Then send on Horizon Treval address 27 Umetalieva str., Bishkek 720017, Kyrgyz Republic. For [Cowboy'sFather'sSon, Cowboy]. I will pleasant. I provisionlly live and job in HT firm with my father. How name town where you live? How month and number you born? What tell doctor about your problem?Don,t experiens, I know everything will be OK

With love [Cowboy]!

:0)

Fourth, according to the BBC, recent studies in New Zealand have shown that vitamin D is excellent for smokers because it promotes lung health.

That is all for now.

I'm going to go play the Sims again. Randi Twat is getting a promotion and Doctor Minge is having a shotgun wedding with Don Lothario, much the chagrin of her former lover, Diana...

My Boob!

Wednesday was mostly my least favorite day last week. It started with me getting lost on my way to the dermatologist. Yahoo!maps told me the office was significantly East of Parker Rd, when in fact it was just West. Anyway, once I got there, aside from the peppermints in the lobby things didn't improve very much.

For one thing, my doctor's name was Kevin. I should have taken that as a sign and run away screaming*. I'm having problems with deciding on his nickname. I don't know whether to call him Doogie** because he barely seemed legal, let alone all the way through medical school, or if I should stick with DrCokeHead because the way he was bouncing around the exam room and brandishing the scalpel he had to be on something.

Anyway, the bouncing doctor was not helped by the state of his medical equipment. After he finished sawing off the freckle on my left arm that had been acting strangely, he informed the nurse that he needed a new scalpel because the one he just used was frightfully dull.

Then it was on to the boob freckle.

I had this freckle that started out normal, just a small brown spot on the side of an otherwise porcelain colored boob. But then the bastard decided to start growing and changing shape and color. Because I've been burnt crispy more times than I can count, I pay entirely too much attention to my freckles. I'm convinced they're going to kill me someday. And they probably will.

Anyway, the doctor took one look at the little boob-blighter and declared, "It too must come off!***" Then he gleefully skipped from the room in search of local anesthetic for me and a sharp instrument for him.

Bleeding**** and adrenalinated, I staggered from the office. I would have liked to have gone home and taken a nap, but instead I had a 2-hour sociology class to sit through, and then an exam in cost control. By the end of it the anesthetic had worn off and my nerve endings were screaming. I was not a happy person, but hey, we can't expect every day to be perfect.

*At least he didn't ask for head in the parking lot

**Has anyone seen that new sitcom Neil Patrick Harris is on? I'm not a fan...

***I told you he was a prat

****Under the bandaid

This Is Kate Freaking The Fuck Out

Not to be confused with fucking the freak out, which is an entirely different activity. One that is only suitable for the weekends when one has lots of recovery time.

But anyway.

I think there is enough time in the day to do everything I need to do, but that is yet to be seen. I have time to blog only because I made the executive decision to not go to classes today. This evening's activities will include (but are not limited to) cleaning my house (which I still haven't done even though it has been on my list of things to do for at least a month), playing with Travelin' Man, finding an acceptable English/Russian translation site online so I can send an email to Cowboy that he can actually read*. I also need to go grocery shopping. Right now my refridgerator contains mold and a jar of olives. And a half finished bottle of wine.

Tomorrow, sometime before 11am Boy is arriving at my house (hence I have to clean and get the guest room ready, which reminds me, I need to wash some towels fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck). Also at 11 I have to go the gym because I had to reschedule today's Tim appointment because the horrible woman at the career development center had to reschedule**. Then I have Marketing and Human Resources. At some point I'll have to write a 5 page paper about the Greek Restaurant***.

Wednesday morning I have to go find out if I have skin cancer and buy a lot of booze. Class, yadda yadda. Then I have to pick up Justine and Beaky and food if Chipper isn't kind enough to bring his hens. Then we shall all drink and be merry. Or drink and be maudlin. Whatever. So long as someone dances the Pony I'll be happy. And hopefully I won't start wall-humping again as last time it was pure luck no one took a picture of it.

Thursday I'll have to take Justine back to school, and take 2 tests that I will most likely not study for. But then it's all over. Except for babysitting Boy. We have no idea how long that will last. I renew my request that if my body is found shot/stabbed/maimed/mutilated would someone please tell the police that is was Boy. Thanks.

*Last week he sent me an email entitled "I sink about you," this week he sent one entitled "I remember you" which we think in context actually means "I miss you"

**If I hadn't met with her this week I would be stuck doing my internship in some shithole of a place like Arvada

***Beaky and I went back on Friday night and ManagerDude was giving her shots of ouzo in such quantities that he nearly had her convinced that dancing on the tables was a good idea

For That All-Over Sexy Feeling

I made the most amazing discovery while searching for my lighter about 10 minutes ago.

Wearing high heels and an oversized t-shirt (and nothing else) is quite possibly the sexiest-feeling outfit ever in the history of the world. It took me completely by surprise.

Ordinarily I would have put on my over-sized ladybug slippers to go dig through the trash-heap-that-is-my-car for the illusive lighter I stole from Chipper a month or so ago, but I had left them downstairs the last time I smoked*. So my footwear choices were rather limited. It was the 3-1/2 inch sandally/strappy heels or my rather cumbersome hiking boots. Being lazy, I chose the strappy sandals. As I was too lazy to bother putting on real shoes, obviously I couldn't be bothered to put on any pants either.

Hence I discovered the most fantastically enjoyable outfit ever in the history things that could potentially be sexy.

Really, I've been strutting around finding excuses to bend over and throw a coy look over my shoulder (at no one, of course, but it's still fun). But now I want a cigarette.

A presto...

*At home

A Wank By Any Other Name

Maybe it's just me, but I find the term "wank" to be overly masculine. I can't reconcile it with anything a female could possibly do to herself. Unless it involved a chainsaw*.

The more feminine terms are so much more... endearing. I mean, come on. Clitty-diddling and double clicking the mouse just sound so much more cute. And who could resist flicking the bean?

So, boys wank. Girls do not.

Thats all I've got to say on the subject.

*But I have a thing about chainsaws, so that isn't unusual

Dude, I Was Busy

Contrary to MikeyPants' belief I have not spent the last week-and-a-bit wanking. I was busy. New classes will do that to a person.

And, I have to say I mortally offended by MikeyPants' suggestion in comments that I possess C-cupcakes. You should know by now they are D's. And I am very proud of them because they just grew that way, I didn't have to do anything to them (except cloak them in the finest Victoria's Secret has to offer, of course).

Anyway, I LOVE my new classes. Even, gasp-shock-horror, marketing.

I heard from Cowboy the other day and as such have been floating on a cloud of twitterpation.

I had a very intersting evening on Friday. Keiko and I went to our favorite Greek restaurant because we hadn't been there for entirely too long (nearly a year for her, and almost 6 months for me). The manager knows my family because we've been going there for about 15 years, so he came over and chatted with us. I mention that Keiko had never had ouzo before, so out came the shot glasses and a freash bottle of the stuff. He kept pouring us shots, and even gave us a flaming cheese.

For one of my classes Beaky and I have to do a cost-control project about a local restaurant. Dude said he would help us out however he could, and he gave me and Keiko more shots.

Keiko and I staggered out of the restaurant and over to the 7-11 to buy more smokes. Then she called her new boyfriend (DJDude) and we went on a trek to find him. He was hawking cd's on a street corner near an "art festival" of sorts. They kept sneaking off to make out and sell cd's so I was left chattering with the DJDude's friend, RastaMan.

I'm sure I could have gotten laid, but DJDude was looking to get his freak on with someone who wasn't Keiko, so after a couple hours we all parted company. I got RastaMan's phone number though. So, if things don't work out with Travelin'Man or Random Korean (who has mysteriously reappeared after dropping out of school and going to New York), I know where to go.

Boy is moving to Denver sometime this week. Whenever he gets his brakes fixed enough that he can drive here from Cleveland. Or something. Chipper is apparently never, ever moving into my house. I'm debating sending Cowboy a plane ticket to come see me (I've got enough frequent flyer miles I wouldn't have to pay for it), but I'm not sure if he can get a US visa so it might be cruel to tease him with the possibility.

And, on Wednesday night I'm going to a Peace Corps informational meeting. But that is mostly all of my news.