UPDATE: Craptastic

Did you ever walk your dog and then have to pick up their poop with a plastic newspaper bag and then realize a little too late that there is a hole in the effin' bag?

Yeah, just happened.

And then you realize you're about a mile from home with poop on your hand?

And yeah... it's super duper crappy...

Literally.

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??

Blink Once if you Read This.

I have a few things to write about today.

Let's start here: I went to the pharmacy to pick up some meds a few days ago. I asked if I could get an extra month supply since I'll run out before we get back from our vacation.

When he got it for me, he said, "You must be going somewhere really fun".

Um... I'm sorry, was I picking up an extra months supply of ecstasy?

No... it was just birth control... not really a drug that screams "fun vacay in exotic location"...

At least not to me.

Anywho, I told him that I was going to Greece, and he proceed to take a piece of paper out of the cash register and drew a picture on it.

Actually, "picture" is a relative term. It looked more like something a three year old would draw if you told him/her to draw a picture of a crooked piece of poop.

He told me to go to this island (and drew a circle) and then this island has really good food (and drew a circle). He then drew a bigger shape (not really a square... not really a circle), and drew lines with his driving route on it.

He never gave me one name or direction. He just said "island". I'm pretty sure Greece has quite a few islands... so I guess that I'll just look out for some sign that Steve the Target pharmacist was there.

Here is the picture, just to prove that I am not making this crap up (I know it's super small... but I'm not very good at this tech stuff like Mr. Michael, so just click on it to enlarge it and see it in it's original intended glory):

Tonight I went out with JJ and met her new(ish) man, Jason. I really liked him, and he makes her happy, so he passes the Ally B test 101.

I called Mike half way through to tell him where I was. He said this:

"Do you like the guy? Blink once for yes and twice for no."

Again, we were on the phone. He's good at the tech stuff... not so much with other, you know, normal common sense stuff.

We had a good time at dinner, though, and I laughed a lot, which is always fun. It was also very much needed since we put AJ on a plane to NZ today.

That was sad. We must have been quite the site in the airport: family hugging and bawling our eyes out.

Stupid independent grown up child leaving home like a stupid independent grown up adult.

I have no problem letting go... at all.

I will miss him so much, but I know he will have so much fun, so I'm happy for him.

That's all I feel like writing for now.

Just Make a Right at the Ugly Baby...

My mom held a little dinner party at her house last night for the upper echelons of WOG. She forgot to include an address in her original email though, so people kept asking me if it was at the Big House… so, to avoid Dad having to feed unexpected guests cereal for dinner, I sent out the following email to all of the invitees:

Hello all,
So, it has come to my attention that my beautiful, wonderful, crazy mother forgot a key piece of information in the below invitation. If you were planning on attending this exciting event, it might be helpful to know where it is being held. Although my mother obviously thinks that everyone should just magically know where her home is (she is the center of her own universe, and expects nothing less from the rest of us), I think it might be helpful to send out some directions.

Her place is the last house on the right before the round-about. It should come as no surprise that her house is the prettiest on the block.

Although I will try to convince her to put a large cardboard cutout of herself in the front yard, with a sign that says “Cindy C., Queen of Entertaining”, I make no guarantees. Therefore, you’ll just have to rely on the address.

If you have any other questions, please contact her… and tell her I sent you.

Thanks,

The one, the only, Alexandra B

I included her address and a Google Map, but I won’t on here, in case Crazy Stalker Clown is reading… bad Crazy Stalker Clown.

It was nice to sit outside with my coworkers, chilling out, eating food, and listening to Mike discuss the different properties of heat…


I guess you just had to be there.

There was also a woman there who is 8 months pregnant. Her kid was moving around like crazy in her tummy, and freaking us all out.

It was some serious Alien shit.

It was NOT natural.

She would be talking, and her stomach would just move because his little knee was poking out or he was trying to elbow her in the ribs. I think that he knew we were watching him, because he was tap dancing like… a tap dancer on crack(?).


We then talked about how having a nice looking baby is really hit or miss. Although lots of babies are cute, a whole lot more are just plain scary looking. They sort of turn out looking like a wet rat… or like this.

It really has nothing to do with how attractive the parents are. Some beautiful people create some really cursed looking children. And some really sad looking people can make a lovely child. Plus, some ugly babies turn into gorgeous specimens of adults.


So the father-to-be last night was really funny. He was the one who said that it’s a real crap shoot how your kid looks. He also thought that my Alien reference was fitting, because he thinks it’s really creepy when his wife’s stomach moves as if independent from the rest of her body.


He had a great idea if he gets an ugly kid (I guess him and his wife were not the most darling looking babies… but they’re really hot now… so that’s good).

He wants to walk up to people and go goo-goo-gah-gah over his ugly mutant of a child, saying Isn’t he just the cutest thing ever? Then, when people say, through awkward smiles and gritted teeth that, yes, he is just adorable, he can yell at them for being dirty liars…

Although I think that he was just going to think the last part, not actually yell at them, like I would. But that’s why it will be years (hear that all: YEARS) before I’m allowed to procreate… it would increase my sarcastic ammunition ten-fold.

Though my kid is going to look more like this.

Still hairy… but beautiful.



AFTERTHOUGT: I forgot that the woman whose eggo is preggo also told us about her birthing class, where they referred to the moment when the head crowns as The Burning Ring of Fire...

Um... adoption is looking better and better. Pregers said that if she had any doubt before about using drugs, that threw her over the edge. I want an epidural now just thinking about that ring of fire.

The daddy to be said that he's going to bring his Johnny Cash CD into the delivery... and she said she'd kick him in the jaw if he did. Those are my kind of parents.

Is that Fried Tofu in your Lap, or are you Just Happy to See Me?

Today was a crappy day. One of those days where I wish I could just go back to sleep for a few hours and then start the day over again.

I was just depressed all day. Everything was making me sad and I wanted to go home.

Plus it was Friday... and it went so slow...

But that all changed when I met my family for dinner.

I must admit that I was not exactly looking forward to this, because I was in such a shitty mood... but my family rarely, if ever, lets me down.

It was AJ's last day as an official Sushi Tora employee, so we took full advantage of his sushi knowledge and employee discount.

It was Tora-rific. We had some awesome food and an awesome time.

We talked about important things, like how to be a successful business woman (it's all about the cleavage), and what sound tuna sushi makes when it's about to be eaten (much like a horse).

I also almost burned a hole in my mouth. AJ ordered me some deep fried tofu (which immediately negates any and all healthiness about said tofu), and I took a huge bite of it. My eyes started to tear and I was afraid that I was going to choke.

I conspicuously spit it into my napkin and held it in my lap. It was so hot that it created a steam pocket on my jeans. It was sad.

I then told them about it about 20 minutes later...

AJ got me a new napkin. Good guy.

So the night was great!

Especially dessert.

Yeah, whoever decided to fry bananas is a saint. Again... all healthiness was negated in the banana.

God bless the deep fryer.

Other little tidbits from the night:

- My dad got some convertible pants (the ones that zip off on the bottom to create shorts). We decided that these are the mullet of the fashion world. Party on the top, business on the bottom.

- When we got the bill, it became clear that the restaurant had comp'd a whole lot of our meal. While my family was oohing and ahhing about how sweet that was, I asked what else we could get for free (they were all thinking it). So I looked at the sushi bar, and saw a whole octopus tentacle. So I said, "Maybe we could get a tentacle..." And then the next part came out without me even thinking about it: "...so we could slap homeless people with it." I was laughing so hard as it was coming out that AJ thought that I was going crazy. My silly mind works in very mysterious ways.

- I convinced my brother to go to my cousin's baptism with us on Sunday. Mom said that he should go so that he could see the family before he leaves for NZ, but I told him that he should go to see if the holy water burns a whole in Dad's skin.

I am now going to read. I finished all of The Twilight Saga already, so my will to read is temporarily shot. I must go on, though.

I read something on Jennifer Weiner's website. She has a whole section for people who want to be writers, and this is something that I have taken to heart (although I've always believed this... but she words it well):

Read everything. Read fiction and non-fiction, read hot best sellers and the classics you never got around to in college. Read men, read women, read travel guides and Harlequins and epic poetry and cookbooks and cereal boxes, if you're desperate. Get the rhythm of good writing in your ears. Cram your head with characters and stories. Abuse your library privileges. Never stop looking at the world, and never stop reading to find out what sense other people have made of it. If people give you a hard time and tell you to get your nose out of a book, tell them you're working. Tell them it's research. Tell them to pipe down and leave you alone.

Granted, this is the piece of advice that requires the least amount of actual hard work... but you gotta start somewhere.

If Only you Could Buy Puppies in Bulk...

I've been sick since Saturday.

It blows.

Like, seriously.

I went to work for a couple of hours today, leaving just before I passed out from exhaustion.

I then stopped at Sam's Club because we're out of a few essentials that can't really wait much longer.

You know... like soap.

Sam's Club is an interesting place. Sort of like an alternate universe, full of bulk goods and free samples.

Although I can understand buying certain things there, like shampoo and paper towels, other things are just not meant to be bought in bulk.

Like, do I really need sixteen pounds of tomatoes? Really? Not unless I'm planning on attending some kind of tomato convention, or making a dozen gallons of salsa fresca for my restaurant.

Do I need a bag of lettuce that Bonnie could then use as a sleeping bag? Not unless I plan on eating lettuce with every meal for the next month and a half, and then selling the rest to starving college students at the dorms this fall...

Plus, that stuff goes bad... fast.

Even the non-perishable items pose some problems for the bargain shopper.

Take toilet paper. Do I buy the box of 1,000 rolls for $13.49, or the box of 2,000 rolls for $11.87? It seems like an easy answer, right?

Only to the untrained Clubber.

See, you may get twice as much for a fraction less... but then you realize that those 2,000 rolls are all 1/2-ply. Not even a full ply of paper.

To get the 3, or even 2-ply, you have to shell out a good $18.65.

And for only 500 rolls...

It's quite the dilemma.

Then there's the whole ordeal of finding things that you never, ever needed.

I don't need dehydrated papaya... but it was six pounds for $11.39. And I don't need two dozen bottles of Vitamin Water in a flavor that resembles Tylenol Cool Burst Nightime cold medicine (something I've had to enjoy for a few days), but it was such a steal!

Then you pay... and the bill is...

really

really

big. Like, amazingly big. Like a hefty portion of next month's rent big.

Because even though the shampoo was only so much, and the toilet paper was only so much... it adds up.

Sure, you don't have to buy that stuff again for a while, but you know that the call of bulk buying will sound again.

You'll suddenly realize that your toothbrush needs to be replaced, but wouldn't it be more economical to by a dozen and just have them on hand?

And I really want some cheese... why not stop in and get an industrial sized brick of cheddar? I can find a few recipes online for cheddar soup... or something.

I have to go eat some Top Ramen now. I don't eat it (chicken broth)... but the 50 packs were only $5.42!!

Do Vampires have Cooties?

I just finished Twilight by Stephanie Meyer for the second time.

I freaking LOVE that book... like seriously... LOVE.

Twilight is part of a series... a saga if you will. The fourth book in the series, Breaking Dawn, is coming out on August 2nd (but who's keeping track), the day we leave Greece.

I am a person who firmly believes in re-reading books before the next in the series is released.

I did it every time with the Harry Potter books, and even with the films. I love catching the little references the author makes to previous story lines and noticing things that you didn't see before. It makes it new and interesting each time I read it (even the millionth time... enter Harry Potter).

Anywho, I decided to read the three previous Twilight books before I go to Greece in a month. I figure the books will be fresh in my mind by the time the fourth one comes out, and I won't have to carry the 700 plus page books with me throughout the Greek islands.

So I started Twilight at 4:30 pm yesterday and finished it at 7:30 pm today.

Hmm.... maybe I should have waited until Greece was just a little bit closer.

But I don't mind. The book is just so damn good.

The book is Meyer's first novel, and was the first, and only, book to knock the final Harry Potter book out of the number one spot on the NYT Bestsellers List. Critics are, in fact, coining Meyer as the next J.K. Rowling.

The books are written for the young adult genre (which leaves more mature audiences craving more... vice, at times... but it's all good), so it's been a hit in only some select areas of pop culture.

That's going to change, though, since it will be released as a movie in December, and because the rest of the literary (and MTV) world is catching on.

OK, so here is why I love these books.

One: they are pure entertainment. It's just pure fantasy (a love story between a teenage girl and a vampire), but it is so much fun, and so engrossing, that you can't put it down. It makes me feel like a teenager again... and in the good way, not the horrible-awkward-hate-everyone-and-my-life-way... though I have read things that have made me feel that way again, too (enter The Perks of Being a Wallflower, another favorite).

Two: I am a huge sucker for romance. I love those super-sappy-totally-not-real-never-could-ever-happen stories. I just can't help it. They have some secret power over me and my weak-overly-emotional-over-sized-aortic-pump. I love the fantasy of it and the pain it makes me feel. All entertainment is fantasy, and sometimes the real world is just too real, so I figure that a good love story, with all the ups and downs, can never be too harmful.

Three: they make me forget about everything else. I seriously will think about them all of the time... even for my second read of Twilight, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I know what happens, but I'm just so excited to read it again. And I love that feeling. Very few things have that sort of power over me, so the fact these books have it shows how good they are.

Now, these books are not for everyone. Mike read it, and although he said it was a "good read", they're not his cup of tea.

I don't think Dad should read it... he just couldn't do it.

And that's OK.

I may be on the same page (pun intended) with 13 year old girls across the globe, and that's OK too. I have made my peace with that.

So this has been a pretty pop culture / book critic post... here's a quick blurb about my Friday to bring my post back to Speakin's usual tone:

Friday's are just tough. I don't care if you have the best job in the world, or if you take your favorite classes on Fridays... they are just tough. Like, the last 3 hours of the day seem like 30 hours, instead. Everything goes as slow as... Twinkies rotting.

So, I decided to take a little break from the grind and make an origami fortune teller, AKA a cootie catcher.

I don't know if I've made one since the 4th grade... actually, I think I had to have Dana or Larisa make mine for me... anywho, I found the instructions and created a supreme cootie catcher.

It really was quite the feat of engineering.

So I decided to write fortunes on it. Numbers on the outside (1-8), colors on the first layer (red, green, purple, blue, yellow, orange, pink, and, of course, taupe), and then the fortunes on the inside. I made these as answers to yes or no questions, much like the mysterious and talented 8 ball.

You know, mystical answers to important questions: hell yes, hell no, let me think on it, I don't give a damn, does it matter, really?, damn straight, and bitch please (there's one more that I can't remember... probably a boring one).

Me to Jeannie: Ask it a question.
Jeannie: Um... will me and *boy she's just started seeing* be together forever?
Me: Geez Jeannie, can you not ask such a school girl question *roll eyes*?
Jeannie: Oh! I'm the school girl? You're the one holding the cootie catcher!
Mark (sitting a few cubes away): You know, Jeannie makes a pretty good case.
Me: I hate you both.

Her answer, I'm sorry to say, was "hell no".

But who's going to believe a cootie catcher?... Don't tell it I said that, though, just in case it reads this.