Reverb 10: Writing

It's Day 2 of the Reverb 10 project and I'm still doing it. I deserve a cookie.

December 2: Writing.

What do you do each day that doesn't contribute to your writing - and can you eliminate it?

(DISCLAIMER: I fully intended to write about why this question is bullshit and ended up answering the stupid fucking thing. Touche, Reverb 10 team. You sneaky little ninjas.)

I'm looking at this prompt from two different perspectives. If the question is asking, "What do you do that doesn't contribute to your story", then my answer is EVERYTHING contributes to the story, and nothing should be eliminated.

HOWEVER, I didn't take the prompt that way at first. I've taken it to be asking what it is we do that keeps us from physically writing each day. You might take it differently. I'm just making that clear up front because it's important to have context before reading my overly dramatic rant that follows.

******************

It seems like most of the participants of Reverb 10 aren't happy with this prompt.

And I'm one of them.

I think that my first problem with it is that it assumes that we're all writers or want to be writers. It excludes those who want to participate as a means to reflect on their year, but don't want to write on a regular basis.

Another reason I don't really like this prompt is that it's obvious. Whether we're going to admit it or not, we all know the answer.

It's us.

WE get in our own way.

WE make excuses.

And, of course, that doesn't "contribute".

We do that for EVERYTHING we want or need to do. We don't do things (whether it be writing or exercising or learning to play the ukulele) because WE come up with reasons to avoid shit.

And even if you blame it on lack of time or lack of money (ukuleles ain't free) or too much Facebook or TV, the only thing really holding you back is YOU.

So even of you take the "writing" part out of the prompt, and add something else that you should or could be doing that you don't, you're still left with the same obvious answer.

And you know what? That's ok. I don't want to write if I'm not burning with the desire to actually do it. And truth be told, I don't want to read your stuff if you were only writing it because you HAD to.

If you have the luxury of not having to do something everyday unless you really want to, enjoy it. Don't make yourself feel like shit for not doing it.

(Unless the thing holding you back is something like fear or a lack of confidence. I encourage you to try and figure that out, especially if it's holding you back from something really important, like doing the things you care about or taking risks.)

(At least that's what my therapist mom keeps telling me.)

So maybe some people hated this prompt because they don't want to admit that they are the reason they don't write everyday, but I don't like it because there's no variety in the answers.

Like I said, the answer is obvious.

PS: I don't expect to like every prompt. That's fine and I still love the project. BUT, rather than just answer the prompt and not express my feelings about it, or ignore it all together and just post a blurry picture of my dog holding a cereal box in her mouth (aka: my first draft), I decided to answer honestly. I'm not meaning to offend anyone or be disrespectful.

PPS: If you wrote a post today saying that you're the thing standing in the way of your writing or you're the only thing holding you back - in other words: the "obvious" answer - thank you for your honesty. I'm not trying to downplay your answer at all. The answer is obvious because it's universal, and there's nothing wrong with that. The thing I have an issue with is the actual question, not your answer.

PPPS: Does this prompt make anybody else NEVER WANT TO WRITE AGAIN? I don't understand what's happened. I should have just put that stupid picture of the dog up...

PPPPS: I just saw tomorrow's prompt. I like it a lot. My emotions and opinions are impossible to keep up with.

Birthday Wishes?

Time: 1:15 PM MST

Call to: Ally's Father

Conversation as follows:

Dad: Hello?

Me: I HAVE BEEN WAITING ALL DAY FOR MY HAPPY BIRTHDAY CALL AND HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANY!!

Dad: OK, hang on. *hangs up*

Time: 1:16 PM MST

Call from: Ally's Father

Conversation as follows:

Dad: *The Happy Birthday Song*

Me: WOW! Thanks... that was completely unexpected.

Time: 1:18 PM MST

Call to: Ally's Mother

Conversation as follows:

Mom: Hello?

Me: I HAVE BEEN WAITING ALL DAY FOR MY HAPPY BIRTHDAY CALL AND HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANY!!

Mom: Well, I was being respectful.

Me: Respectful of what?

Mom: I wanted to let you sleep in on your birthday morning.

Me: MOM!? It's one o'clock in the freakin afternoon... how late do you think I sleep?!

Mom: Well, then I got busy. Retirement makes me a very busy woman. Plus, I'll see you in a couple hours. I'll call you soon.

Time: 1:21 PM MST

Call from: Ally's Mother

Conversation as follows:

Me: Hello crazy woman.

Mom: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUNSHINE!

Me: You saw my tweet, didn't you? You're just trying to make up for it so that I retract my tweet, aren't you?

Mom: Oh, let me guess, you wrote about how unloved you are?

Me: No... that's what my blog is for.

Then she went on to tell me about what an adorable outfit she's wearing today.

Awesome.

My brother didn't even pick up the phone... he is probably hiding. BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE MESSED UP.

PS: I did get a call from my Grandma... she said she forgot the words to Happy Birthday...

PPS: If you sent me a note or email or text or sky writing message: thank you. I appreciate it. You are awesome. My parents and brother should be ASHAMED.

PPPS: Not really... I forgive them... because I am now a GROWN UP, people.

PPPPS: Mike said that my birthday presents are on the bed and that I am NOT allowed to go in there. So I threw some cereal in there so that Hannah would go after it and then maybe retrieve the presents "by accident"... it didn't work. *Golden Retriever FAIL*.

PPPPPS: And now we're out of cereal. Damn.

Selective Hearing

Over the last few days I've thought that there's something wrong with Bonnie.

She's been shaking her head, scratching her ears, and not coming in the house when I call her.

I cleaned out her ears, but none of the gunk that comes with ear infections was there.

I asked Mike if something was wrong with her.

She was sitting on the back of couch (where she is NOT allowed), staring outside, head perked up and eyes darting over the street, guarding her precious house.

"Bonnie?"

No response.

"Bonnie!"

No response.

Uh-oh. What do we do with a deaf dog? Can I teach her sign language? Are there classes for dogs like this?

Then a dog (three houses away) barked.

And Bonnie jumped off the back of the couch and outside, barking and growling the whole way.

She heard THAT just fine.

So yeah... she doesn't need sign language... she needs obedience lessons... damn dog.

My Whole House Smells like Wet Dog...

My mom called this morning from Florida telling me that I wasn't allowed to leave the house because of the snow storm...

I was still in bed, so I had no idea what the crazy woman was talking about.

(I think that it's impressive that my mother is across the country and she knows about the state of my backyard better than I do...)


(She's freaky like that...)

So I was instructed to stay inside and watch movies and drink hot chocolate.

And I learned at a very early age that you ALWAYS listen to mom... I'm, like, a great daughter.

So I'm holed up in my house with two crazy dogs who think the snow is so great that they are bringing half of it INSIDE with them...

(I know that they look miserable... and I think Hannah fell asleep sitting there... but I assure you they are having a fabulous time...)

(Awesome.)

But I shall persevere, because my mommy told me to stay put.

(Unfortunately, Mike had to go to work. He took the bus so that he didn't have to drive... and the bus got stuck somewhere... but he eventually made it...)

(He works in a restaurant on an OUTDOOR mall... who the HELL is going there today?)

(I asked Mike that and he said it didn't matter because he was scheduled and he had to go in... he's "responsible"... loser.)

So I'm sitting here... watching the blizzard... remembering how it was in the 70s a couple of days ago... yelling at the idiots who think that it's a bright idea to ride a bicycle in over a foot of snow...

("Hey genius... you could get further CRAWLING... damn fool...")

(On top of being an awesome daughter, I am, like, the nicest person ever.)

Step Away from the Keyboard... Now...

It was a beautiful day... the sun was out... the breeze was nice... and I was enjoying reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies in the backyard.

(Best. Book. Ever. Bytheway.)

Then...

My Twitter from 6 hours ago:

The guys two houses down just brought a drum set into their backyard... no good can come from this.

Yeah... well, they calmly started playing a little bit and I really didn't mind because I was all into Elizabeth Bennet slaying the minions of Satan with her favorite musket.

Later, though, I realized that there was some noise... but I assumed that it was a car parked at the light in front of my house or something...

But the music didn't go away...

My Twitter from 27 minutes ago:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? God damn guys with the drums have been playing "music" for 1.5 hrs! OUTSIDE. It's 10:30! & turn off your black light!

I AM GOING TO KILL THEM... KILL THEM!

After turning off the TV I couldn't help but acknowledge that there is a JAM BAND in the backyard two houses over...

Drums.

Guitar.

Keyboard set to imitate a PIPE ORGAN.

And bright (black) lights...

And cheering.

And it DOESN'T STOP... ever.



Hippie Invasion from rhymes with milk on Vimeo.

(I know that you can't see anything (like the black lights), but even on my crappy camera, you can HEAR it... remember, there is a whole HOUSE between us...)

So I did what any rational individual would do.

First, I sent my dog out to bark at them.

(Actually, she's been out there off and on all night barking at them... but at this point I stopped telling her to shut up and instead told her to bark away and mess up that jam band-y beat...)

Then, I called Mike.

Me: MIKE!! Those-god-damn-mother-fucking-hippie-bastards-are-playing-jam-band-music- with-black-lights-and-I-am-officially-going-to-kill-them-and-once-they-are-finished-I-am-going-to-go-steal-their-drum-set-or-at-least-put-dog-poop-in-it-and- they-totally-interrupted-my-Grey's Anatomy-which-was-really-good-and-I-KNEW-that-Derek- would-have-to-save-Izzie-and-anyway-I-am-going-to-shoot-me-some-hippies!

Mike: Well... as long as you don't involve the cops...

Next, I did the most logical thing I could think of:

I put my IPOD into it's stereo next to the window and blasted songs from the Wicked soundtrack...

(Take that you damn hippies!! Jam to that, suckas!!)

(Don't make me go all John Cusack on your ass!)


(I actually thought that it had worked... but then I realized that I had turned the Wicked soundtrack up so high that it took a few seconds for my ears to hear those damn drums and keyboard...)

Finally, I documented that I was not the only one suffering here:


Interview with a Hannah from rhymes with milk on Vimeo.

All in all... a very productive night.

So... it's 11:30 at night... and they have expanded... there are now yelling females...

HEY RUDE NEIGHBORS! SOME OF US HAVE TO GO TO WORK IN THE MORNING!

(They don't know that I'm not "some of us"...)

Dirty Mouth?

I know I complain about the wind a lot...

But COME ON?!?!

The wind today is out of control.

Like... it's just not safe.

Street lights are down, and although one would think that it would be clear that one must adopt the whole 4-way stop system in such a situation, many people adopt the whole "let's just gun it through the light as fast as possible at any moment that we choose" system.

And I don't appreciate that after walking through a parking lot to my car I realize that I am chewing ON DIRT because the wind blew DIRT PARTICLES into my mouth and now when I clamp my jaw down I hear gravel crunching.

And when I walk in the door the wind is so strong that SOMEHOW the trapdoor to the attic BLOWS OPEN.

Not cool...

Bad, Colorado wind... bad.

In fact? Bite me... or should I say, blow me?

(Hehehe.)

PS: I just realized that President "Kick-Ass" Obama is in Denver today signing the Stimulus Bill... I hope the Secret Service totally has some sort of "Save the President for Deadly Winds" plan.

PPS: Shit! Something just slammed into the side of the house, causing me to run around screaming "We're all gonna die! We're all gonna die! Save the President!"

PPPS: It was a patio chair, so we had to take all of the cushions off so we could stack the chairs and the cushions were dripping water all over the place but I thought it was Hannah peeing so I started yelling "Hannah is peeing!", but then Mike pointed out that it's the cushions so I screamed "Hannah didn't pee! Hannah didn't pee! Save the President!".

PPPPS: I just added the tag "In Need of Professional Help" to this post.

PPPPPS: I have more dirt in my mouth after the whole chair slash cushion slash Is Hannah Peeing? fiasco.

On My Own: Part Five (Tiny Update)

My conversation with the bartender:

Me: What's that pretty pink drink?

Bartender: A BlissTini.

Me: Um... fine.

What I really wanted to say: What the fuck is a BlissTini?

Seriously? How the hell is THAT supposed to help?? It's a made up drink for this conference alone... sheesh.

But it tasted like juice so I downed it too fast and now I have a BlissTini induced headache.

But not before some lady backed into me and spilled half of it down my pants.

(Thankfully, it spilled on a BlissTini colored swirl on my shirt and my pants are black... so I didn't have to smack her.)

And I'll never know what was in it... it was probably just off-brand Hawaiian Punch.

(I wonder if I can go steal another one...)

Acceptance

So I sat down to write a post about people who have nothing better to do than to write mean comments to me, but it turned into some rambling gibberish with a whole lot of cuss words, so I thought it better to leave that in my private blog rather than force all of you to read it.

But apparently there's this person, "Anonymous" (I think he/she must be Greek... it sounds like a Greek name to me... NOT THAT IT MATTERS... please don't send me comments about how I'm mean to Greeks... it's just an observation), who really has nothing nice to say to me.

And it sucks to get mean comments.

It really sucks.

But, I'm trying to tell myself that it doesn't matter. Not everyone will like you. Not everyone will agree with you.

I sure don't like everyone. And I sure as hell don't agree with everyone.

And since I opened up my blog to more people, I'm bound to get people who hate me and who just HAVE to share their two cents.

That's just part of the game.

So I should just let it go...

(Ha!)

This latest comment said: "I don't expect that you'll publish this."

And he/she expected correctly. I clicked delete, because this is a happy place, where only Ally B is allowed to be a total a-hole.

It's my right as an "artiste".

(I went through a brief moment where I was like, "oh I should so publish this", but that was AFTER I clicked delete so I would have had to go through all of this BS to try and get it published and I realized that nobody who tells me I'm a bad person is worth that much effort. If you're curious, they had a problem with this post. Something about me using "being a girl" as an insult... and therefore I can't be a feminist... I have a feeling Anonymous hates dead baby jokes, too... so it's not like we could be friends anyway.)

(Wait! What if Anonymous IS one of my friends who didn't have the guts to write his/her name... I'm going to have to investigate. All of you who are my so-called friends... please wait outside my house for an extensive lie-detector test followed by a beat-down from the dogs...)

(Though the majority of my friends are fans of dead baby jokes... hmm...)

(And don't send me a bunch of hate mail about how I hate babies!)

And so, to all you "anonymous" peoples out there who just can't help it:

It's okay. Sometimes I ask for it.

Sometimes I stick my foot in my mouth.

And sometimes I need to hear it.

But, you should know...

In the eloquent words of Ms. Tina Fey...

You can suck it.

Apocalypse Boulder

SO... apparently this town is completely falling apart.

There are still hurricane winds.

There was a freakin WILDFIRE in North Boulder!

(No worries... Ally B and all of her affiliates are safe and sound... here's a super cool picture by Mikey.)

And now, there is a fender bender in front of my driveway.

Seriously... What the hell??

The fender bender isn't a huge deal, except that it's blocking my car. I was going to go to the gym, but I've taken the car crash as a sign to "just say no".

I mean, I could just slip by, but I'd have to slip by two cops and a tow truck.

(And it's probably NOT the best idea to ask the police officer to "get outta my way and off my property"... just a hunch.)

Plus, Bonnie is very upset that there are people near her backyard, and therefore is telling them off every few minutes. I would hate to leave and then have to go bail her out when they arrest her for disturbing the peace or aggravated assault. She has little respect for the law, or "the man"... especially when they are near her backyard.

And so, something is going on here. The wind needs to stop. The fire needs to be put out. And these idiots need to learn how to drive.

And I should probably go to the gym... it looks like the car is on the tow truck, the cops will probably leave soon, and Bonnie will go back to barking at some cat that has been tormenting her for the past few days.

OR I could hunker down, gather canned goods, and wait for the next disaster to befall this crazy city.

Toothpicks at the Gym

Like I said before, I'm trying to get in shape, so my mom and I joined a gym a few days ago.

This, of course, means that I have a whole new world of blog material opened to me.

First on the list: really skinny girls who workout next to me.

I want to hit them... hard.

Oh, I'm sorry. Was that a little harsh?

Well, I don't care.

Because there's thin, there's fit, and then there's skinny toothpicks.

I can understand thin people. I actually hope to be one of them someday.

And I totally get fit people. Again, I hope to be called fit at some point in my life.

But skinny toothpicks?

Well, I'm not gonna lie, I'd also like to be one of them.

And that's probably why I hate them so.

Seriously, though, some of those girls need to get off of the elliptical and into a Dairy Queen, stat.

("Stat means now, people!")

(If you can tell me what show that's from, and the episode, you get 25 cool points (which is also from a TV show).)

And they need to spring for the extra scoop of cookie dough in their blizzard.

It would seriously be money well spent.

Again, I probably don't like them because I'm jealous. But it really bothers me when I'm huffing and puffing, sweat dripping down my over sized t-shirt, while Little Miss Perfect is bouncing around in her yoga pants and sports bra.

SUPER ANNOYING.

This is the reason why I don't go to the gym on campus. When I worked out there, my self-esteem took a huge hit when I entered the cardio room and was hit with a wall of beautiful sorority girls.

So, to all of you toothpicks... eat a burger. And stay off of my machines.

(OK... add "bitter" to jealous.)

A Christmas Story

Ally B went to a very busy store on Christmas Eve Eve.

She didn't want to go, because said store has a TERRIBLE parking lot, and it being Christmas Eve Eve, Ally B did not want to deal with the parking lot from hell and about 40 billion people Christmas and Hanukkah shopping at said store.

But a Christmas present needed to be gotten, as it was for Lightning Legs, and she would be sad if Ally B did not brave the hellish parking lot and throngs of people.

And because Ally B is selfless (sometimes), she went.

(Ally B also didn't want Lightning Legs to keep Ally B's present as ransom... so it just made good sense to get it... I said I was only selfless sometimes.)

Ally B went to the store with a note in hand from Kevin. It had the product name written out, so Ally B decided to just ask for help rather than wander around the store like a lost puppy for a good hour before caving and asking for help.

She approached not one, but two salesmen having a conversation, and politely interrupted them:

Ally B: I need help.

Salesman 1: What do you need.

AB: I need a Footprint for a two person Hubbaxll tent, please.

S1 looks to Salesman 2 and rolls his eyes. S2 does the same.

S1: A what?

AB: A footprint.

S1: Yeah, I got that... but a Hubbaxll?

AB: Oh I'm sorry, is it pronounced Hubb-uh-xll?

S1: Um... (looks to S2, who is busy trying not to laugh).

AB: Here. (I show him the note, which clearly says Hubbaxll).

S1: Do you mean a Hubba Hubba?

AB: I don't know. (I mean seriously, if I knew that that's what I meant, would I really put myself through all of this?)

S1: Well, I'm guessing that it's a Hubba. How many people in the tent, three?

AB: No, two. (It was the one thing that I actually got right, and he couldn't even remember... sheesh.)

S1: Oh! Maybe the note means "Hubba times 2".

AB: Oh! How smart you are! That's exactly what my crazy boyfriend wrote! Thank you for clearing that up! (OK, I didn't say that... I think I said: Oh, thanks.)

S2 is laughing hysterically in the background. I'm so glad that I could bring him some Christmas joy.

S1: We're out of it.

So I went through all of that just to have to go get a crappy gift certificate so Lightning Legs can go get it herself.

And if you think that it was a rookie mistake to not clearly see that the note said Hubba x II... I kept the note as evidence.

And now for a really fascinating, albeit morbid, music video. I think that I'll practice dancing while lying down... I wonder if Wii has a game for that...

Adele |MTV Music

Battle Scars (Mental and Physical)

Today I heard some very disturbing things.

My boss said that her aunt can't believe that Obama is allowed to run for president... because he is not a US citizen.

That's right, she didn't think that Hawaii was in the United States.

Scarier still: her aunt was a public school teacher for 35 years.

Um yeah... that pretty much sums up why I stay up late at night nursing the ulcer that this election has given me.

Because this country is full of stupid people.



Now if only I could convince one of those stupid people to buy my damn Madonna tickets... preferably for more than their worth.

Oh, my elbows hurt from holding my books up to read.

Yep... I am reading so much that I am sustaining injuries...

This must be how people with old football injuries feel...

And AJ suggested that I get a hobby... and then suggested archery.

Dude, if I suffer from "reader's elbow", I'm thinking I should probably stay away from bows and arrows.

Actually, weaponry of all kinds should probably be off-limits.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to lie in a bathtub full of ice...

How the Hell did I end up Looking for Kylie Minogue Videos on YouTube Tonight???

I don't drink... so I guess that I just don't get the appeal of getting really trashed and then stumbling up and down my street screaming profanities by oneself...

Again, since I don't really drink, I just must not be cool enough to understand the freaking awesomness of what multiple people have done all the live long night.

And what is it about football that brings the most self-respecting people to drink themselves into oblivion?

Now, I could understand if you had to drink to keep yourself from dying of boredom during the game... or to get over the fact that you were virtually molested in the nacho line by drunk freshmen... but I get the impression that this is not the reason behind said drunkeness/stupidness.

I sound bitter.

Well, why would I sound bitter? It's only 1:30 in the AM on a Saturday night... and I am here, writing my second post of the day (third if you include Leo's Vote Video) while watching season 10 of FRIENDS on DVD...

And why would I sound bitter after my most exciting event of the night was giving Boris a bath after Hannah possibly peed on him (I'm not sure if she actually did pee on him, but is it really something that you want to take a chance on?)... and then chasing Hannah away from the drying rack as he drip-dried for the rest of the night...?

At least I was able to relax (except when the frat kids were yelling and pushing each other in front of oncoming traffic in front of my house), unlike Mike, who had to serve a whole bunch of hungry Texas fans.

But at least he made mad money.

Nope, not bitter at all.

So maybe I should have a drink...

But what if someone calls me and asks me to please come pick them up from some bar...

So I should probably not drink that whole bucket of frozen margs in my freezer.

I always thought that I didn't drink because I was raised to not... but my brother would be out at some house party kicking ass at beer-pong if he were here right now... so that's not it.

Nope, I'm just completely weird.

And kinda pathetic.

But so not bitter.

I just ate a crappy quesadilla because apparently I am STARVING at 1:30 AM.

STARVING!!!

Grr... my tummy is going to eat itself soon... and then move onto other vital organs and ligaments.

So I just opened a hundred calorie pack.

Hmm... I am choc full of life and vitality now.

And now, for NO apparent reason, I have a Kylie Minogue song stuck in my head.

Why god? Why?!?!?

Aren't I suffering enough?!?

And I am too hungry/bitter/tired to appreciate the irony that the song that I can't get out of my head is called Can't Get you Outta My Head.

Dammit.

Well, if I have to suffer, so do you:

I wish I had a Birthday Every Month... Without Getting Any Older, Of Course...

Yesterday was one of those uber exciting and exhausting days.

It was my fake-birthday!

Happy fake-birthday to me!

My birthday present from Mikey was a day in Denver. So, we got tickets to the Last Comic Standing tour for last night, and dedicated the whole day to couple activities.

So we slept in, then went to Lucille's. It was Friday morning and there were a million people there. It was a 40 minute wait. "Why are all of these people here on a work day?" I asked myself... is it everyone's fake birthday today? Don't you people have jobs? (Side note: Yes, I have a job, but I was responsible and took PTO... it's my fake-birthday people.)

And then we heard them talk. Turns out most of them are Texans (dundunduh!) in for the game with CU. Who travels for a college football game? Do you seriously have enough time and money to infest our cute little city with your families?

It makes no sense to me...

Maybe I'm a little bitter, because they all got in the way of me and my food.

And that is so not OK.

So we finally battled it out with the Texans (dundunduh!) and were seated. And ate WAY TOO MUCH. I have this problem where I can't not eat too much. I think that it is a psychological/physical condition that should be listed in medical books. They could call it the Ally B Over-eatin syndrome...

They should do an episode of Grey's Anatomy about me...

So I ate beignets and giant biscuits and potatoes and eggs and grits and jam and spiced tea...

And my tummy hurt really badly.

But it was SO good.

The waitress kept asking if we wanted half-orders of our stuff.

Silly waitress... I am practically a professional at eating a lot.

Half-orders are for small-stomached sissy boys....

Then we walked along Pearl Street to try to work off some of the 5500 calories that I had just consumed.

I was able to get my ring cleaned, since I'm pretty sure small creatures were living in the setting and grits were stuck to the gems...

Then we went home where Mike studied google maps for about 30 minutes so that we could avoid any fist fights while trying to get to Denver.

It was really fun: we drove in circles looking for free parking... we went to the Denver Art Museum... Mike acted like a child and stuck his face about two inches away from the paintings, causing security guards to follow us around exhibits (for his explanation about why he does this, see this)... my blood sugar dropped so I started to panic and we had to run to Mad Greens to get some food in me before I passed out... then we walked all the way to Tattered Covers bookstore (about a mile).

I know it sounds like I'm complaining about it... but it really was A LOT of fun!


Now, we love bookstores, and from what I've heard, Tattered Covers is the best one around. But both Mike and I were left wanting more. It was cool and all, but they had NONE of the books that I wanted... or the books that Mike wanted... so their selection was crappy, to say the least.

Then we both had really bad tummy aches... I wonder why?

So we went and had tea and muffins for dinner before the show.

Then the security guards at the theater made us chug said tea out on the street because it was not allowed inside. They also told me I couldn't bring our muffin in, so I had to stuff it in a zippered pocket and cover it with tampons so that the male security guard would get uncomfortable and not ask any questions...

We got the muffin in.

The show was fun. We laughed a lot. I was sitting next to a woman who was there with her
twenty something daughter and her daughter's boyfriend. The woman kept turning to her daughter every thirty seconds and yelling, "What did he say?" or "I don't get it"...

It wasn't annoying at all... nor was the fact that she was a heavy mouth breather...

Then we came home and I collapsed in bed...

All in a fake-birthday's day...

Thanks, Kev... it was wonderful (picture a smiley face icon... I would do one, but it looks stupid...).

Nothing Special

I'm eating a donut. I know that I shouldn't eat it... but I am.

It calls to me.

Ok, that was depressing... so I just threw the half-eaten donut away.

I need a new job.

A woman just came over and asked me to scan something for her, because I have the only working scanner in the company.

I said no problem.

Looked in the file... and she had already scanned it!

She did it and forgot.

I scan a million things a day... and I've never tried to re-scan something because I forgot that I did it.

Wow...

You know, I should have known that today wouldn't be very good...

A fly flew into my mouth this morning while I was asleep.

Yep, I woke up with an effin fly in my mouth.

I feel like this is now my destiny.

I have nothing to write... I just felt like I should write something.

Just Call me K-K-K-Katie.

A woman in Denver sang "Lift Ev'ry Voice and Sing" (aka, "The Black National Anthem"... which seems a little bit racist to me) instead of the Star Spangled Banner at the State of the City Address on July 1st.

People are pissed, including many people in my office. I walked into the lunch room and a bunch of women were saying that she should be in jail and it's as bad as burning the flag (which I think is a really dumb law....).

I said I think that it's awesome. Good for her. Thank goodness we live in a place where she has the right to sing that.

They said Black National Anthem like it was a disease... like Black Plague or Black Death.

I think that the lyrics are much better than the traditional song, anyway.

I wonder if they even know what the song is, or if they just got pissed at some (black) woman for standing up and doing what she wanted.

I don't stand up during the Star Spangled Banner.

I do not believe that we are the land of the free and the home of the brave.

We are the land of the patriot act and no gay marriage and dwindling abortion rights and the home of cowards who send poor kids over to die in a pointless war.

I believe that there are better ways to honor those who have fought, and died, for our country than standing up at a sports game with a Coors Light in one hand and the other hand on my heart.

I believe that this country should help those people who fought and survived by actually giving a damn about them when they return, broken and hurt. By giving them actual therapy for severe PTSD, and not antidepressants that make it worse. I believe in actually helping the families who have lost brothers/sisters/mothers/fathers/husbands/wives/daughters/sons in a stupid, useless war.

I believe that I have a right to NOT stand, because I love my country.

Because I am patriotic and because I expect more, much more, from this country.

Because it is my right to sit while some school kid sings a song that I don't believe in.

I will stand when this country proves to me that it is the land of the free and the home of the brave.

I will stand when this country starts to change.

And I will be proud.

You can call me a communist.

You can call me un-American.

You can call me a hippie.

You can call me K-K-K-Katie.

Just don't call me lazy when I stay in my seat.

Oh shit... is that Homeland Security knocking??

Whistle While you Complain... I Mean... Work.

I've only got 8 minutes (to save the world?) before my lunch break is over.
What can I do in 8 minutes?

I know!

Complain!

You know those people who think that when they are on the phone nobody can hear them? Those people who get a personal call, in their open cubical, and talk as if they are at a rock concert and they are trying to tell a story over the screaming crowd?

We have one of those at work.

Except this time, she actually got up and went into another room. Unfortunatley, this was an empty conference room that created an echo effect when she started yelling. This meant that all of us could hear here telling a story about god knows what.

But it included the line: and he grabbed her boobs...

Um... we are still at work? Right? Isn't that a conversation that should be had... not at work. Or at least not in an echoing room that allows this whole side of the building to hear her.

I was writing something down, and I stopped, closed my eyes, and said What. The. Hell.

In other musings, a woman brought chocolate chip cookies today. BUT, these were made with whole wheat flour and applesauce in place of butter. ALAS, they are healthy for you. That knocks off two food groups right there. Three if, like me, you consider chocolate an essential part of your dietary needs.

Uh-oh... one more minute left and I haven't found a picture... better get some more health cookies and start posting.

I have offensive loud telephone calls to pretend to ignore for the remainder of my day...