Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Spider Saga: The Final Chapter


As I pulled into a parking space at Ralph's to pick up some of hubby's beloved "100 Calorie Packs" (goldfish and shortbread cookies), I leaned over to the passenger side floor to grab my reusable bags and there it was!!!  Hanging from my rearview mirror by a new web it was about to begin was the spider that has been planning to murder me (it makes sense to me, don't argue)!  It turns out, my life wasn't in danger at all.  This puny little shit was about to meet his maker...right after I took a few photos with my phone.  Much like a serial killer, I wanted to keep some kind of trophy of the life I was about to take.   Thank god I'm much like an elderly woman with allergies and I always have around 400 packages of Kleenex with me at any given moment.  With lightning speed, I grabbed a tissue and squeezed the monster's little body until I felt the crunch.  My nightmare was over.

If anybody knows a REALLY good taxidermist that can salvage this tiny little corpse for me, I'd LOVE to have it stuffed so I can hang it on my wall like a goddamn moose head.  Thank you.

Monday, June 11, 2012

Katie vs. Spider


   Let's get right into it.  This morning I unlocked my car door, opened it,  and put my arm in to set  my purse down on the passenger seat before getting in.   As I put my arm in, it pushed through a giant spiderweb.  Repeat: I put my arm through a spiderweb...INSIDE of my car.  On the driver's side.  A spider somehow got into my car and decided to build it's home where my head would be.

     This is not my first blog about bugs.  I don't like eating bugs and I don't like co-habitating with spiders.    They are evil 8 legged demons that I'm positive are on Earth just to fuck with me.  So we're clear, I'm not scared of all tiny legged creatures, I love snakes,  and rats are precious.  Oh, and I'm not crazy about fish, but that's for another day.

     So now, I had to remove the web and get into the car to drive to work.   For a few minutes, I considered calling off, of course, giving the reason that I don't want to drive in a spider's house.  It could be lurking anywhere.  Where was it?!?   I looked all over for the demon and it was nowhere to be found.  I had to get in and go.  Fuck.  I got in and started driving, all while scratching the phantom itches that were popping up all over my body.  I called hubby and our conversation went a little something like this:

"BABE!!  There is a spider somewhere in my car.  A spider has made it's home INSIDE my car.  WHAT DO I DO NOW?!?!!?"

"What do you do??!!   You sell the car!!"

     I knew I loved him.  Now I have to go on my day off tomorrow and have it detailed.  I'm taking no chances.

ps #1.  When I was probably 10, I was laying on the floor of my bedroom watching Arachnophobia.  I started feeling those phantom itches, but ignored them thinking it was all in my head.  After one phantom itch wouldn't go away, I looked down and there was a super bug crawling on me.

ps #2.  I watched Arachnophobia on my wedding day.

ps #3.  I'm all itchy just thinking about it right now.

Monday, May 21, 2012

Big Titties, Beware!!!!


Over the last month and a half, Hubby and I have had been busy traveling and doing lots of really cool things, which is GREAT, but there has been one rather not-awesome result of all of this fun:  I put on a couple of pounds.   I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a bit vain and a little extra padding definitely gets me down.   Now, the party is over and my ass needs to get back into it's original position, so back to the gym and diet it is.
     Beginning yesterday, I've committed to doing the 30-day Summer Shape-up Challenge.  Basically, I'm just going to be doing something, anything, to make me sweat every day for 30 consecutive days.

I mention this only to give you fair warning about future complaints about various things/humans/habits that make me crazy while I'm trying to work on my fitness (fuckyouverymuch, Fergie).

Today's bitchfest is brought to you by the ladies with monster titties who do not wear supportive bras, especially while at the gym.

     To my fellow generously jugged friends out there, I understand how uncomfortable exercising can be while carrying giant cans.  Finding a good bra can be a challenge, but you must not give up the hunt!  It makes me cringe when I see a broad jogging, jumping rope or even sprinting on the bike with her funbags not properly bound.   It freaks me out the way I'd imagine it makes dudes uncomfortable to see another dude get nailed in the nutsack.
     Gentlemen, do not argue with me.  I know you LOVE seeing boobs bounce.  I agree, it's crazy hot, but I promise, this is for your own good.  Boobs can only slam down so many times before tissue is damaged and those mams head south real quick.  There is no coming back from this kind of abuse and they're just going to get shit-baggier every day.  I don't know about you, but shit-bag tits are not my favorite tits.

I'm sure there are many companies that make great sports bras out there, but I stand by the Ta-Ta Tamer by Lululemon.   They are available up to size 38E, don't cost a fortune, and will help keep your tasty jugs right where they belong.  No more running in those adorable stretchy things for $14 at Target, okay?

Friday, May 18, 2012

MOTHERfucker (what grinds my gears)


 If I may, I would like to take a moment and vent about something that makes me insane with rage.
Now that hubby and I have been married for a while and I'm getting...older...I'm finding that people often make conversation by asking if we have kids.  No problem.  This is not my issue.  My issue is when people ask if we want kids or  when we're having kids.
umm...

This bothers me for the following reasons:
1.  This is a REALLY personal question.  If we are close enough for you to get away with asking me this question, then you already know the answer.
2.  What if I really want kids and my husband doesn't and it and it's a major source of tension?  What if one of us has fertility issues and I cry myself to sleep over it every night?  What if I just had a miscarriage?

     I'd now like to take this a step further.   Nothing makes me more furious than when I finally do tell somebody that I'm not interested in having babies and they do everything they can to convince me that I'm making a big mistake.  Babies were the best thing to happen to them!  Babies are the greatest!  Once I have my own, I'll feel differently about them!   Truth be told, I am envious of people that want or have babies and are happy with kids.  I want to want babies, but I just don't.
     I do not want babies.  I don't like babies.  I don't like kids.  When I was 4, my mother got pregnant with my little sister.  She tried to warm me up to the idea of having a baby in the house my pointing out a baby in the supermarket, saying "Katie, look at that cute little baby in it's stroller".  My response?  "I hate that baby.  That baby is ugly."   My feelings haven't really changed.
     Now knowing all of this about me, stranger I'm talking to at a party, do you really want to try and convince me that babies are NOT gross and that I should have one?   Do you think that it's a good idea to have a kid and hopefully learn to love it?  I kinda feel like that's maybe not the best idea.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

there is no Dana, only Zool


I'm sick.  Not exactly deathbed sick, but I feel like what I imagine the inside of a slaughterhouse smells like, if that makes any sense.  My throat hurts and I'm all kinds of uncomfortable.  Hubby's at work.  There's no food in the house that I want.  I'm tired but I can't sleep.  
So what's a girl to do?  Watch Ghostbusters, obviously.  I don't know what it is about this movie, but it makes me feel at least 12% less shitty whenever I watch it.

 Here's a few fun facts:

1.  I met Dan Aykroyd in an elevator at the House of Blues at a GWAR show.  He turned and introduced himself to hubby and me, asked if we were here to see the band and wished us a fun time.  How cute is that?  I was perfectly happy pretending that I didn't realize that I was one of 3 people in the elevator with a FUCKING GHOSTBUSTER (don't even say Blues Brother to me, shit's not even ballpark to Ghostbusters.  Shit ain't even the same game.) but he was just that much of a pro.  Love him.

2.  I used to know this guy and he always vowed that if he ever did porn, his name would be Rex Moreanus after the great Rick Moranis (Louis Tully, the accountant neighbor to the very beautiful Dana Barrett).  Besides Kraven Moorehead and Buster Good, that's got to be the best porn name I can think of, even though he never ended up "performing" (at least that I know of).

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Ladies, we need to have a talk


The talk that we need to have is about your fingernails and toenails.
Look, I'm not being picky here.  Not at all.  Is the square pink-and-white 90's stripper acrylic nails your thing?  Awesome!  Is nail art your thing?  Sweet!  Do you prefer to have short dark nails that I personally love?  Fantastic!  I also love short clean nails with no polish at all.


The issue that I'd like to discuss with you is chipped nail polish.


Your nails say a lot about you.  When your polish is chipped or you're missing an acrylic nail or two and tried to cover it with a shitty Hello Kitty Band-aid, it says that you do not care about yourself.  When I see this on a lady, it makes me think a few things:

1.  Your house is probably really dirty.

2.  Your car has fast food bags all over it's interior.


3.  It makes me look at your teeth to see if you have meth mouth.

MOST IMPORTANTLY:

4.  Your vagina most likely smells like hot garbage.



Who wants to look like they have smelly bits?

I know that chips happen.  You have 12 hours to remedy the situation. Either carry the color of polish that you're currently wearing in your makeup bag for 911 touch-ups OR don't wear nail polish.   THE END.

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Well, pin a rose on your nose

 
  Like most people my age, I grew up watching Full House.  Every Friday night, I would make sure I was sitting in front of the tv with a bowl of spumoni to watch that week's new episode on TGIF.  The Tanner family was my other family.  I can tell you the storyline of each episode within the first 20 seconds of the show.  "Tea for two, two for tea", "There's a car in the kitchen!", "If every word I said made you laugh, I'd talk forever".  You get the picture.

    Some time ago, maybe about 6(?) years, I was watching "The Aristocrats" at a friend's house.  For those not familiar with this...work...it's basically a dvd of different comedians doing their own version of the "world's longest dirty joke" and the whole thing is these people trying to out-filth each other.  This dvd was my introduction to Bob Saget, a person outside of my tv dad Danny Tanner.  I was now to know a filthy dirty completely shockingly depraved Bob.   Well, that night I went home and dreamed one of the most vivid and totally wonderful sexytime dreams ever, starring (you guessed it) Bob Saget.   After waking from this dream, I knew what I had to do next:  find and eff Bob Saget.  Over the next few years I did a bit of research and found out a few places he hangs out at and even called into a local radio show to try and talk to him, which is ridiculous because what would I have said?  "Uh, hi, umm...Bob, I had a dirty dream about you, can we, like, get together sometime?".  Of course not.
     Well, anyhow, time passed and I never found him.   Fast forward a few years, I stop my hunt for Bob, meet a nice boy, tie the knot and here we are.  Well, a little over a month ago I heard a commercial on the radio station that my hubby works at advertising a one-night-only comedy extravaganza and one of the performers on the lineup is none other than ::drumroll please:: Mr Bob Saget.   Holy guacomole, this is my chance.  I called hubby and told him that I would not be missing this opportunity to get close to my "other man".
     The night of the show had come and I was ready.  I got dressed in my new one sleeved jumpsuit and fastened on the Bob Saget button that a friend sent me and I was ready for action.   Thanks to Hubby having a job at the station that put on the event, we got all access backstage fanciness.  We made our way back towards the production room where the station employees kind of hang out and in the hallway, maybe 5 feet from our destination was my man, Mr Bob Saget.   He was chatting with another couple that he appeared to know.  I HATE to be "that guy".   Again, thanks to Hubby's cool job I've been able to meet some really cool people, many of which have been a REALLY big deal for me and I never want to take a picture or do the whole "I'm a really big fan" thing.  It's just not what I like to do, but this time all bets were off.  I was going to lurk and lurk until Mr. Saget's conversation was finished with this couple and it was my turn.

     As we lingered off to the side, low and behold, Jesse Katsopolis, lead singer of Jesse and the Rippers, Mr. John Stamos was standing right next to us.   Be still my heart, he is just beautiful.  He initiated small talk, we chatted for a couple of minutes about how much he hates that he's now become completely dependant on eyeglasses to see anything and he told me that I look like a "younger, hotter Gina Gershon" (omg!!!!!   omg!!!!).  We wrapped things up as I noticed that Bob was saying his goodbyes to the couple...he was mine.  Hubby rushed over to him, sounding almost panicked as he  shouted "BOB!!!!!   Can you please take a picture with my wife?!?!?!".  He obliged and I pointed out that I was wearing his face on my jumpsuit and to please enjoy how genius that is.  As he was getting ready to take the picture, Hubby super awkwardly said "Bob, get close to her.  She LOVES you.  There are only two men on earth I'd let touch my wife and you're one of them."   I was horrified.  Mr. Saget kind of laughed it off and I apologized for the extreme awkwardness and we went our separate ways.

     It wasn't exactly the moment I'd been dreaming of for the last 6-ish years, but it was still pretty goddamn wonderful.   Last night, I added to my Full House collection.
   
I'd been hearing tales of legendary theme parties that these two friends throw semi-often.  Well, last night was Dave's birthday and in honor of his special day, the two dudes threw a super fun goth themed party.  It was required that everybody come in costume as they apparently get pretty serious about it which I LOVE.  The night was in full swing, everybody was in goth makeup  and wearing what was pretty much my uniform for a good 8 years of my growing up. The only thing that could have made this party any more fantabulous would, of course, be a Full House cast member showing up.  Well lucky for me, that is EXACTLY what happened!!!!  Miss Jodie Sweetin, Stephanie Judith Tanner, owner of Mr. Bear, poster child for Oat Boats cereal, was sitting next to me on the sofa.   Our butts were touching.   I didn't say anything, rather she pointed out that we were wearing the exact same knee high socks.   Oh my god, we're practically sisters.   I'm in.

 I didn't have the nerve to ask for a picture with her, partly because she was just enjoying herself at a house party and partly because I didn't want her to say no due to her being a tabloid target for a while after her somewhat highly publicized meth addiction.
     Knowing of my borderline obsession with Full House and seeing the look in my eye, my friend asked the birthday boy if he could do me a solid and work out a not-super obvious way to get Jodie and me in a photo together.   God love him, Dave worked it out.  He grabbed her, pulled her onto his lap and said "Come on!  We're taking goth pictures.  You have to look all angry and sad!" Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Dave the birthday boy, Miss Jodie Sweetin and myself in full goth regalia.


  


Friday, April 27, 2012

Why broccoli can eat a bag of dicks.


I'm the first to admit that I'm a bit neurotic when it comes to my health, safety and general well being.   I am a strict vegetarian, mostly vegan except for special occasions, exercise 4-5x a week, I hate going out on holidays because I'm positive I'll be killed by a drunk driver and I don't use the ketchup on the table at restaurants.  I also only buy organic fruits and vegetables.   This is where my story begins.

     My husband and I were fortunate to be able to go to Coachella for both weekends this year, but that meant hotel food, drinking and almost no fresh produce which kind of makes me insane.  The Wednesday after our desert extravaganza, I was more than happy to get up very early before work and do a huge grocery run at Whole Foods.   After my 9 hour shift was over, I was starved and rushed home to start dinner.   First step was to clean all of the vegetables and the process goes a little something like this:  fill large mixing bowl with water and Veggie Wash, soak/swish item(s) in solution, rinse thoroughly, pat dry.
    Remember:  I was the hungriest girl ever at this point.  I grabbed my 2 stalks of broccoli that were rubber banded together, cleaned them, immediately chopped and practically inhaled one of the entire stalks.  I moved on to the second stalk, this time moving much more slowly and paying closer attention.  As I began cutting, I noticed what looked like grayish dirt oh the underside of the head (you'll have to excuse my lack of knowledge of exact broccoli anatomy terminology).  I looked closer and my stomach began to turn as I saw that the grayish colored dirt was not dirt at all.   It was maybe 5 trillion teeny tiny gray bugs.  I had just eaten what could possibly have been thousands of bugs.
     I know what you're thinking:  People have been eating bugs for hundreds, if not thousands of years.  FUCK YOU.  I don't eat bugs.  I don't eat cows, chickens, pigs, fish or snails and I sure as hell don't eat bugs.  I have never consensually eaten a bug and I never will.
     Now that you're aware of my neurotic tendencies, you'll understand my next move.  In a full on panic,   I ran to the phone and called poison control.  This is it.  This is the end.  Lights out.  Death by broccoli. The operator assured me that I was in no real danger and that my only worry is food poisoning.  ONLY food poisoning?!  Well if my only worry is sleeping on the bathroom floor in between bouts of bile rocketing out of my nostrils and burning my sinuses, then I'm in walking on sunshine!  Instead of actually dying, I get to lay in the fetal position on our beautiful tile wishing I was dead.
     I then turned to my best friend Google and asked about organic broccoli bugs.   Low and behold,  there were countless pages about these bugs and how almost all organically grown broccoli has them.  Apparently, Veggie Wash does nothing to get rid of them, you have to soak your broccoli in a salt water or a vinegar/water solution to get rid of them.  Has this been common knowledge to everyone but me?  Know what?  Fuck you, Whole Foods.  You maybe couldn't put up a sign saying "Beware of evil broccoli bugs.  Soak your shit in salt water"????  
    Lesson learned:  If I ever eat broccoli again (which I'm pretty sure I will not), it will not be organic.  Bring on the chemical pesticides, bitch.

The End.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Well, I guess I'm a blogger now.

Welcome to the nonsense that is my everyday!
Today while driving home from work through Hollywood on Fairfax, I noticed a young guy walking on the sidewalk along the busy street.  He was average looking, maybe 23 years old, wearing a backpack and had headphones covering his ears.  As I was about to pass him, he paused,and leaned into a tall bush full of flowers.  He gently touched one of the blooms, smelled it and continued along his journey.  I'm not sure why I keep thinking about this, but I just found it to be so sweet.  He did something that I so often forget to do...

Unrelated:  I will never eat organic broccoli again as long as I live.  Ever.  Never Ever.  Never.