Sunday, December 25, 2005

Merry Christmas to all of you 20 Narry-iers. Oh I remember coming over for the Very Tacky 20 Narry Christmas. Right?

Friday, December 09, 2005

Shock me, shock me, shock me Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Newport news

Oh the poor Wave! "Car crashes into Newport statue".

Funny side note, I think it took me all of freshman year before I realized it was a statue of feet in a wave. To be honest, I never really looked at it. Even during all those times I waited for the Loser Cruiser at the post office.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Turkey-lurkey

Happy Thanksgiving all!


Sorry long time no post. I'll make sumthin' up for you all before the weekend is done.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

sending kitten pictures till someone else posts... Posted by Picasa
















Monday, October 31, 2005

My new boyfriend, Mike Jones Posted by Picasa

Saturday, October 29, 2005

Brit and K-Fed made an appearance in Nashville, baby and ugly chihuaua in tow.  Posted by Picasa

Sunday, October 16, 2005

Poetry and other things

So, Friday night I went to this poetry open mic night. It was in the ghetto kind of, over near Popeye's (yesssss). I didn't get up and drop some rhymes or anything, nor did I snap at any time. But it opened me up to this whole world I have been missing for years. And I'm not really even talking about poetry.

The room was filled with beautiful, thug lookin men. They just looked like any other dudes in the neighborhood, until they got onstage. They talked about things that mean something. One guy's poem talked about not being from a broken home, because he never had one. Another's, his name was Church. He's a real big dude with long dreads and glasses. His poem was about abortion and even as someone who's relatively pro-choice, I almost cried. But let's not get emotional and lose focus here. Hot black dudes that bring some deep shit?

HE-LLO! Where has this been all my life!?

Instead of throwing up gang signs or running around screaming GGGGG Unit, they hollered out NPG.... Nashville Poetry Group. POETRY! Almost sounds lame, but it was cute.

Then, I remembered I was there on a date and tried to stop my roving eye. Luckily, he turned out to be one of the best ones.

Sunday, October 09, 2005

Why you should all move to the South

Yesterday, I had such an "i love the south" day. Honestly, they're infrequent. I really like living here, but it's rare that I LOVE living here. But yesterday, I had two assignments: go to a gathering of Hurricane Katrina evacuees and talk to Louisiana State fans about yesterday's game against Vanderbilt.
At the evacuee gathering, I met several interesting characters. There was a woman who had suffered so much abuse in her life and felt blessed to end up in Tennessee. She got her very first birthday cake in the shelter. She hugged me about 8 times. Then there were these college students who were from Nashville but went to college in New Orleans. We all know that college is more like home than home... they wanted to go HOME. Then there was a slam poet talking about being left to die in New Orleans, the joke that is FEMA and smoking cigarettes just to get the taste of the flooded city from his mouth. And of course, how he felt when he found out that plane he got on was going to Nashville... "Woo, hoo, we're gon' meet Willie Nelson! And Dolly Parton, who I'd like to hug."
Then, on to LSU fans... now, having gone to Salve, we don't really know anything about college team loyalty. But yesterday this whole city was packed with people who drove 6, 8, even 16 hours for the game. I barely even saw any Vanderbilt fans, and they're the home team. I met a guy who hasn't missed an LSU game, home or away, for 24 years. He lost three homes and his business, everything he owns, in the hurricane. But he wasn't about to miss a party.
In short, these Southerners know what's important. It's not stuff. It's being alive... and a good party.

P.S. Love to hear what y'all are doin. :)

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Hello, my loves

Well, off I go then.

But, I'd love for you all to do the following writing prompt for me to read when I get baaaack...

Since three of you have been out here already, tell me.

What is your best Nashville moment/story?

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

My mistakes (hope you have an hour)

My mistakes. Ha ha ha. I'll start from most obvious to least obvious for all you brainiacs.

1) #1 and 2, 4-7, 9-11. If you know what I mean.

2) not agreeing with Jenn and Erica that we should all live together in Newport for one more year. especially since I'm the only one who ended up staying. although if we had stayed, House wouldn't have been. There's an interesting ad in the newport daily news this week for a housesitter, p.s.

3) f

4) Never telling My Husband that I was madly in love with him even though he had that girlfriend with the stupid bangs

5) not trying harder to get Betsy drunk sooner

and lastly, my biggest mistake was spending even a minute thinking I should've transferred or that all my student loans aren't worth it. Because I didn't spend too much time studying. I definitely spent as much time as I could having fun. Really, I wouldn't change a thing.

Except 7. I'd definitely take back seven.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

My favorite drunk memory, you say?

Wow. There are so many things I would like to write about. Many of my drunk "memories" are actually reconstructions of what people told me happened though, so as a journalist, I'll just go with one I remember experiencing firsthand.

Schrabotnik came to visit, and we were all a-twitter with the news. It had been almost a year since that crazy fuck was in town, and he did not disappoint. Although slimmer, wearing glasses and acting intelligent, he was still the same ridiculous Schrabotnik.

He was with Patty at the time, I think. We didn't really know her yet, and Schrabotnik brought her over. We were all pretty wasted, and he handed out a bunch of our beers to everyone and ran around with scissors, poking holes in the side and making us shotgun them. I didn't really get how to do it, so beer was flying everywhere. He decided the shotgunning wasn't interesting enough. He grabbed a fresh Coors Light, shook it up and cracked it open, spraying it all over me and the kitchen. Surprisingly, Erica was a little concerned about this-- and surprisingly, I was not. I began stomping around in the ankle deep beer, hair dripping wet and clothes full of brew. Schrabotnik threw out a "Let's hear it for Patty!" And I stood there with a Coors river running through my own kitchen and I splashed in it, clapping and yelling "Patty, Patty, Patty!"
Erica came running out of the bathroom with this ridiculous mop, I grabbed it from her and tried to mop it up. Shcrabotnik basically pulled a 'Welp, see you later' and took off. The next morning, Erica was furiously mopping, wringing, mopping and wringing a pretty deep river of beer in the kitchen. Hank-O and the clan were on their way over.

Next question!

What's one (or 9!) mistake from college you would take back if you could?

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Why? Because I like you

I've gotta be honest. I miss when we used to blog every day.

So, I've been thinking about perks that might get you all to write more. I contemplated a strip show reward, then remembered I'm 1,200 miles away without a Web cam. I thought about offering goodies, but I am broke. So here's where I ended up.

Honestly, I can't believe all my blogging teacher friends haven't started this. In a small way it's been done, but I think it should be done daily.

Writing prompts! Duh!

OK, I'll start. What was your favorite room in 20 narry and why?

While the bathroom's dirty deeds and the sleepovers on Erica's floor can't be overlooked, I have to say I always loved the living room most. Even in the winter when we had to cuddle under my electric blanket in tundra conditions, it was the only place we could all sit together (upright, that is).

I'd come home every day and bounce up the steps on the porch and peek into the window, that window Jenn broke into that time, to see who was on the couch. Often it was Betsy or Brian or Shaun.. or Shaun's guitar and amplifier, but no Shaun in sight. It was the first place I saw my friends when I got home and the first place people crashed when they came in the unlocked door to our house. And, of course, The Head lived there.


YOUR TURRRRRRRRRN

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

and... we ate

Gail came down this weekend, and in true "us" fashion, we ate all there was to eat in Music City.

We did the fast food- Popeyes chicken and biscuits, little White Castle burgers. We did the southern thing- pulled pork and burgers. And, lest I forget... we did the upscale romantic thing. We went to the Melting Pot and ate fondue. Man, it was great. All these couples around us delicately dipping their strawberries into their swirls of chocolate... and I smacked myself right in the face with a chocolatey fruit. Gail drank leftover chocolate with a spoon and burned her mouth. And, we nearly peed our pants and ruined the ambience for everyone else but oh man, was that fun.

And, of course, we honkytonked. We hit up several bars and chatted up a couple (wannabe) cowboys. And, I borrowed her shirt feeling all proud of myself because it was cute... and I broke the strap. Oof. Picture me even wearing a strapless bra in the first place then picture me after one of the straps busts.

I HEART NASHVILLE AND WELCOME VISITORS :)

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Let me sing you a song

This weekend I got a mix cd from a stranger through an exchange on "el jay." I like this girl's style. But there were just a couple of songs I HAD to share with 20 Narry. You may or may not know them but here are the lyrics.

Few Drinks to Fall in Love
by Gavin DeGraw

You don't understand my jokes
You're burning my eyes with your smoke
If I wasn't alone, I'd ask you to move away
So I order up another round
Sipping my last one down
You're the best deal in town
And I've only got dreams to dream of
Sometimes you need a few drinks to fall in love

If you need a few drinks
You might as well start with a couple of shots
Give a couple of winks
And later blame it all on the buzz
Sometimes you need a few drinks

And this year burned a hole in my hope
I got debts that could choke out a rope, (spoken)like college,
And it's not my approach it's the way I go summing things up
And there ain't really nothing great about this bar
Except here I am and right there you are
We're both shooting way under par
But soon we'll forget what par was
Sometimes you need a few drinks to fall in love

If you need a few drinks
You might as well start with a couple of shots
Give a couple of winks
And later blame it all on the buzz
Sometimes you, Sometimes you,
Sometimes you, you need a few,
You need a few, you need a few,
I'll buy you one too, Drinks

32 Flavors
By Alana Davis
Squint your eyes and look closer
I'm not between you and your ambition
I am a poster girl with no poster
I am 32 flavors and then some

And I'm beyond your peripheral vision
So you might want to turn your head
Cause someday you're going to get hungry
And eat all of the words that you just said

I am what I am
I am 32 flavors and then some

God help you if you are an ugly girl
Course too pretty is also your doom
Cause everyone harbors a secret hatred
For the prettiest girl in the room
God help you if you are a phoenix
And you dare to rise up from the ash
A thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy while
You are just flying past

I am what I am
I am 32 flavors and then some
I'm taking my chances as they come
I am 32 flavors and then some
I'm nobody but I am someone
Someone, yeah

I'd never try to give my life meaning by
Demeaning you
And I would like to state for the record
I did everything that I could do

I am beyond your peripheral vision
So you might want to turn your head
Cause someday you're going to be starving
And eating all of the words that you just said
That you said

I am what I am I am what I am
I am 32 flavors and then some
I'm taking my chances as they come
I am 32 flavors and then some
I'm looking for truth but there is none

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Ahe-he-HEM

Excuse me, if I may.

But, aren't we all in some kind of transition here? Right? I mean, we're all starting new jobs or looking for new jobs or learning new things about the birds and the bees, right?

So, why are only me and Erica J. blogging? Is it an English major thing? Because, I mean, I don't think so. 'Cuz we've had almost 200 entries since this thing began like 6 months ago. So uh, hello?

GOD, at least make comments so Erica J. and I can feel like you're paying attention!

Oh, the places you'll go!

This post is dedicated to the TOP TEN fun things me and Jenn are going to do when she comes to Nashville in like two weeks.

10) Go to the honky tonk bars and watch Jenn interact with Redneck Women (that one should be worth the trip alone)

9) After said honky tonk bars, get a taxi driver to take us on a tour of all the fast food joints that stay open for 24 hours- Jack in the Box, White Castle, Krystal... I know what you're saying, Jenn. Are these fast food restaurants or children's toys? Rest assured, they have chicken. But KFC will NOT still be open, Jenn, so keep your clothes on and don't ask.

8) We will cherish the expressions on the faces of the professional karaoke crowd out here when we put it down with "Magic Stick"

7) I will drive Jenn through the projects early in the morning so she can see them. Then, I will patiently explain to her that WE CANNOT GO THERE AT NIGHT FOR FUN! THEY SHOOT PEOPLE!

6) We will spoon on my aero mattress, albeit down a Guat :-( , and this time folks, my new roommate will NOT be having sex in the same room! Sorry for all you thrill seekers.

and the number one fun thing me and Jenn are going to do in Nashville in two weeks when she comes:

1) you think I'm going to give it up that easy? Ha! You'll have to come to find out for yourselves! OK, granted that two of you already came and it's only been three weeks but CAN'T YOU ALL JUST MOVE HERE?!?!

Sunday, July 31, 2005

Move over, JFB

I've found Erica's soulmate. He's a big dork and he videotapes himself dancing to 80s-early 90s rap songs, assisted by white socks and an exercise ball. His 'wave' isn't as good as yours, Erica.

http://dailydancer.com

Seriously, check him out. I ain't got nuttin on this brotha.

Of all the random things

I am sitting at my computer, waiting for my brother to call so we can make plans to go see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, reading the links at the MSN homepage when I come across this: "West Coast girl's Big Apple blog"

Well obviously I like reading blogs so I figured why not see how it got linked on MSN's website. I clicked to the page and kind of browsed around, not really reading just looking what was there. A rather large headshot of this women Alexandra draws most of your attention. There is a slide show in the bottom left corner that I flip through: Summer in the City - Fourth of July - London - Paris - Newport, RI.

There are just a few pictures of NPT and nothing truly great. She made a little post on her trip too.

Saturday, July 30, 2005

Welcome to Tennessee

Well, here I am.

Moved to Nashville.

Yep.

Honestly, the only thing I need to discuss right now is the insect situation. I have seen my first cockroach. I am pretty sure this is because of the heat and Nashville's status as the fifth buggiest city; not because I live in a slum, which I don't. Or even because we leave food out, because we don't. Although, Stella does suspect putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher as a culprit- she'd prefer to use it for clean ones, but I explained to her the whole process and she seemed a little skeptical but agreed to try.

Another progressive breed is the gotcha bug. It's skinny and jumps fast. I slam it hard with my favorite flip flop. Then I take off for a paper towel to dispose of its lifeless body only to find it shaking off our fight and standing up again. Thought I was dead, huh? Gotcha!

Anyway, good thing I spent all that time in Miss M's spider-y house. Oh, who am I kidding, I still couldn't sleep last night thinking about roaches. But I've only actually seen two and they are both dead now, so don't let that sway you from coming to visit or anything.

But overall, good city!

Monday, July 25, 2005

My j-o-b

Woman's legs jumping in yellow shoes


That is one of the posters adorning my very own cubicle at work. The other poster I couldn't find an image for on the Corbis website (that is one of the stock photo companies we work with) - it features Andre 3000. I'm jealous that two of my coworkers got to Will Ferrell before I did. The poster in the makeshift hall outside my cubicle features a construction site with a sign saying "No Dumping." It faces a poster of a toilet fastened to the wall.

Yep a toilet as decoration for a work place. We get to be "creative" like that in Photo Research. Really it just means we get to act immature. My department is all fairly young and they have just undergone a change so many of us are new to the company and in various degrees of training. We can wear jeans and flip flops to work, listen to Ipods while surfing our computer databases for pictures like "A chicken has a beak" or "Make sure to wear sunglasses on sunny days to protect your eyes." (I've been working on a lot of K-2 books, haha). We take field trips around the building and to the library as part of our training.

It's not hard work but some concepts can be a challenge to find for the right price, that the designer/editor likes. This week alot of the projects I took over from the girl who left are nearing their due dates so I'm really busy all day. I am also setting up my first shoot with a group of kindergarteners for a series on conservation.

Basically I feel like I am back in school, only getting paid to be there and never doing homework.

I <3 The Fug Girls

Please tell me you guys know about Go Fug Yourself, I discovered the site this spring and I can't remember if I've seen it mentioned on the blog, but it's just too good not to share.

The above link is talking about Molly Stanton, better known as Charity from the soap opera Passions. I remember freshman year that a handful of girls on the 3rd floor in Miley watched Passions, including Erin, Jenny and Crystal. Many inside jokes and random fits of laughter came forth because of that show. I have no idea how its remained on the air as long as it has, it's completely absurd. And absurd for a soap opera is pretty damn bad. And RIP Timmy the strange midget sidekick.

The job update to follow in about 2 minutes. Also we need to update our bios!

Monday, June 20, 2005

OK, I'll go to Nashville

In case I've kept anyone in suspense...

I realize I spent a good deal of blogging time talking about my job interview in Nashville and then the whole topic dropped off. That was because I was waiting.

I'm waiting no more... I start my new job at The Tennessean on July 18.

News to come for a quickly approaching reunion weekend. Also accepting bookings for visiting me in Nashville. It's going to be a hot summer, folks. :)

Monday, June 13, 2005

Something to amuse/distract you all



That's me as a South Park character (0f my own selection).

I know at least Betsy watches South Park (because Brian does). You should all make one at this site: http://www.planearium.de/

It's in Dutch, but on the left you can select Exclusiv and then SP-Studio, and then you can select English for that part. You have to do a screenshot to save it but there are directions in the Help section.

I want to see the rest of you!

Thursday, June 09, 2005

It's pop-u-ler

In case any one is interested:

Betsy and I have been reading the book Wicked:The life and times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire. It's been a topic of frequent coversation during the last week because I sent her songs from the Broadway musical version. I know most of you are busy, but if anyone else cared to read it we could do some sort of book club thing.

One of my favorite songs from the musical is "Popular" and I put the lyrics to it in my own blog. But here is a link if you want to download and enjoy it --

http://s43.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=2RFI5FS3RODW921XVY3PNUCFZA

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Very Good Looking, Damn Smart Woman Day

I have many things to say in this last week at House, but I just don't have the time. I will, however, share with you some chain letter wisdom I recieved from a forward today.

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming...

Damn, what a ride!

Monday, June 06, 2005

Damn you Vera!

Yes it has been over a month since I last made a post (although I do try to keep up by commenting) and my only excuse is that I don't have a life. Oh you might think I'm off being busy and simply don't post because I have no time. That is not the case.

I could have told you about going to cover the spring pow wow or interviewing 8-yr-olds for the Take a Kid Fishing event. My cousin had a baby boy a few weeks ago, my other cousin is getting married and another cousin just delivered a baby Friday night (that brings the total number of people expected for the Holidays from the Johnson clan to 70). I stood in line for the midnight showing of Star Wars Episode III and I'm watching the repeat season of "Lost" since it always interfered with other shows I liked. Only I didn't think all of that would be exciting to read about.

I could make this entry about how I curse the Newport Festival Committee for making this summer's Sunset Music Festival one of the better booked! Why couldn't you have Guster, Anna Nalick, Something Corporate in addition to Ben Folds during the summer I was there? When I went that summer it was only to see Ben Folds, who was thrilling and so much fun.

Instead I'm going to tell you that right now while I was reading my Elle magazine I saw one of those smelly ads for Vera Wang perfume. I peeled back the flap and took a sniff of the Vera Wang, it was lovely and floral, and then of the Vera Wang Sheer Veil, it was mild and fresh. I continued on my reading when I noticed my upper lip was throbbing lightly. Looking in the mirror I found my lip had swelled up like a bee sting. The damn ad gave me an allergic reaction! Therefore I refuse to ever buy anything Vera Wang created (like I could afford it right?).

There that's the kind of brilliant storytelling you can expect from me.

Monday, May 30, 2005

UGH

Big spiders. Antsy fucking dogs. No hot water. Permanently wet clothes.

14 DAYS

Sunday, May 29, 2005

Some recent good (clean?) fun at House Posted by Hello

Spring has sprung, a.k.a. Welcome to the Jungle

Well, spring/summer has sprung here at House. This means all varietals of flowers are in bloom, jasmine and roses and the really high weeds that have taken over the yard. As if it were easy trying to get myself to walk the dogs before, now I find myself traipsing all over high grasses and thinking that now, not having health insurance, is no time to get Lyme's disease.

Along with the "splendor" of summer at House comes critters. Birds are tweet-tweeting everywhere (until Fred gets hold of them) and deer are frolicking in the yard. Unfortunately, bees the size of a small fawn are standing guard at the door, so I've been going in through the garage to avoid them instead of running screaming, knowing these bees can catch me if they want to. Even as I type, there is a hornet with a long stinger trapped between my skylight and my screen, fighting to get inside and eat me.

Today, while walking the dogs through the woods/my yard, I had just dodged a couple bees. Ducked down from some low-flying bird in Alfred Hitchcock movie style. Navigated my way through the less-tall grass.
Went to step on a garden hose and IT WRIGGLED.
This was no garden hose. This was a garden snake, and a pretty long one at that. By now, I'm panting with all this activity and scream like a banshee as the snake slithers under a bush. The dogs, my alarms and my protectors, just sat there and looked at me.

Have I mentioned there is no hot water because I've apparently run out of propane ("300 bloody dollars to fill that tank," I've been told), and my third floor room with all skylights is currently 85 degrees?

I believe today is the appropriate time to start the countdown till Miss M gets home, meaning the countdown till I move out an hour before her plane arrives.

15 days.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

"Hip? Hip Hop? Hip hop anonymous?"

Well, I'm one step closer to the person I should be after an Off the Curb class with Jackie Henderson.

My friend and coworker Anne suggested we take a hip-hop class tonight, only $8. We drove over to the studio, right at the top of the projects and next to a very low-class dive bar. A Jamaican in a caravan drove by and told us we were beautiful and asked if we were already married. Of course, we said yes we were.

Jackie Henderson is the choreographer for the Off the Curb dance troupe, and in case any of you haven't seen them, they are amazing. She's such a freakin natural, too... all she has to do is throw her arm up in the air and I'm like "oooooooh. das niiiice." She's so sweet and casual in her Rocawear sweatshirt and Timbs, I guess the way a hip-hop dance diva should be dressed. I have learned the Crip walk and several other dance moves that you have to see to believe. To give you a mental picture, at one point, she said, "Shake whatever's loosest as fast as you can. But make sure you can stop it!" I thought about how I left my sports bra at home by accident and decided I'd better just shake my ass in that case.

And, then at the end, Jackie Henderson told me I'm really good and I should think about getting involved in the Off the Curb Dance troupe! ... OK, no she didn't. But that would've been cool, huh?

Next time, I'll wear my Rocawear jeans and the yellow Brooklyn sweatshirt Brian gave me. I knew I got them for a reason.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Due to Jenn's scolding, now known as "Gimme Gimme Gimme that Groupie Love"

I had this feeling the whole time that something really, really cool was going to happen, but I couldn’t exactly come right out and say that. It would’ve sounded arrogant or teenybopperish, or both. But something very cool did in fact happen.

Angie and I parked the car in Boston to find it smoking and leaking coolant. Our night seemed off to a bumpy start, but we jumped on the T (God, I love public transportation) and headed down to the Roxy for The Roots concert. Next, we stood in the wrong line for a half hour to collect our guest list passes and thought we had missed my beloved Floetry. I was bummed.

The club was packed. Angie pointed out balcony and decided if it wasn’t VIP (or was), we should get up there. We grabbed a couple beers, $6 Bud Lights in a plastic bottle. We scouted out the locations, and we settled in behind a couple Hispanic girls at a spot that looked right over the stage. I befriended one by discussing just where that weed smoke might be coming from.

“Mmm, girl if you find it you come tell me,” she said, swinging her hips. “They betta be sharin!”
“I know, right?” I said, acting like I cared.

Angie pulled on my sleeve.

“Look over there, where that sign says the Roots,” she said, pointing at a black curtain pulled back just enough to see through. “I think that’s them, right there!”

With our free tickets, we had stumbled upon a place with the best view AND right next to backstage. Holy crap, we agreed, we were looking at The Roots only a few yards and a VIP rope away. Things were looking up.

Needless to say, The Roots were outta control when they took the stage. They haven’t become one of the most legendary hip-hop groups for nothing. And wouldn’t you know, they took a break and out came Floetry! Life, my friends, was good!

During their break, the band went up and hung out on the outside of their curtain, right in our plain view. We were baffled. There they were, drinking bottles of water and actually watching the other artists performing. The girl that sings their backup vocals was right next to me, talking to a couple people. I decided I had to meet her.

I strode right up to her and told her I thought she was amazing, the whole band was amazing, her EARRINGS WERE AMAZING! God, I said, you guys are just so friggin cool! She grinned and shook my hand and said it was nice to meet me. She introduced me to her cousins who were there for the show. I walked back over to Angie with the decision that The Roots were my new favorite people. Who knew it would get even more interesting from there? Well, I did, but we’re getting to that.

So, when I was finished gushing about how beautiful and well-accessorized the Roots girl was, I turned my attention to the band members hanging over the railing right next to me. I looked at the drummer, ?uestlove, probably the most recognizable of the group because of his fro. (Note: I didn’t know his name at the time, or anyone's in the band for that matter. I have since learned everything there is to know about The Roots.) I’m looking at ?uestlove, mumbling something about how OMG, they are just standing right there like they aren’t famous, and he nods his big old fro and waves at me, not a hint of a smile but why would a badass drummer need to smile? My jaw drops, and I shriek and hope nobody can hear.


I wave back, then I look directly down at my beer to contemplate how to react
when someone famous waves at you unprovoked.

Wow, I think. This is pretty friggin great. I met the girl with the huge earrings and the drummer waved to me. I start sending Ian frantic text messages so he knows everything he was missing. I look at the people around me, paying particular attention to the Asians standing behind me with big Asian grins and dancing to the music. I think they’re probably stoned, and I talk to Angie about how much I love Asians in general.

When I get the nerve to look back over at the band, I caught the eye of the guitarist, aka Captain Kirk. He was looking at me. I try to smile, but after three beers and two famous people I’m not too confident in my muscle contractions. He keeps looking, then he and ?uestlove turn and start whispering.

I start to think they are talking about me, then I mentally smack myself in the forehead and think, shut up you dumb fuck. They are The Roots. They’re not talking about you. But still, I’m secretly thinking it, as much as you can keep a secret from your own self.

They took the stage again, rallying for another amazing hour. The crowd had thinned out when Floetry came on, because I think people thought the Roots wouldn’t come back out. So we had a good size space of the balcony to ourselves and we danced. I couldn’t help but think that Captain Kirk was looking at me, but I tried to fight it. But it was like that time that we first went to see Felix Brown. I knew from probably the third song that something was eventually gonna go down, and when Kwesi took my coat and tossed it to the back of the stage I knew where he was going later. It was kind of like that, only they couldn’t reach my coat at a real concert and this was THE ROOTS!

The show ended, and I slowly finished my beer so Angie wouldn’t try to get me to leave.


As the band left the stage, Kirk the guitar maniac came up the stairs and walked
directly over to us.
“Hi,” he said, and stuck out his hand. “I’m Kirk.”

I shook it, acting like I knew he was Kirk, and introduced myself. Ditto to Angie.
He asked if we enjoyed the show, had we seen them before, et cetera. I don’t think either me or Angie remembers much of the conversation because we were waiting for the chance to scream.

“You know what?” Kirk said. “I want to introduce you to my bass player. Can you hang out here for one minute?”
Sure, we said, trying to act cool. We could wait. He walked off backstage, and me and Angie turned and looked at each other blankly for about 7 or 8 seconds.
“AAAAHHHH!” we screamed, startling the stoned Asians. “AAAAH! He just came over here and introduced himself to US!”

A minute or two later, Kirk came back with Hub, the bass player. Kirk made Angie’s night, looking down at her pink Barbie t-shirt. She had originally felt underdressed in jeans and flip flops, but her Barbie tee pulled her through yet another night like a champ.
“Can you tell me your name again? I keep wanting to call you Barbie,” he said, probably not realizing that being called Barbie by a member of the Roots was the best possible scenario she could imagine for that night. Meanwhile, I was trying to explain to Hub how I think they are the coolest, least pretentious band I have ever seen. He was rubbing my arm.

“I mean, I just think it’s so great that you guys just come out here and meet people after the show,” I said, rambling like I do when I am excited. He put his arm around me.
“Well, how else are we supposed to meet the cute girls?”
I internally shrieked again. Hub tells me how he’s gotta get on a tour bus again at 4 a.m., they’re going to Cleveland. Yea, it’s fun touring but sometimes he wishes he could get more sleep. OK, so maybe Hub (on the right) is the kind of guy that would hit on me anyway. He’s certainly not the hottest in the band. He’s a big, black, sorta mean looking dude. But very sweet, and famous, and hitting on me. They say something like they’ll be right back. Angie shrieks, “he thinks you’re cute!” I just open my mouth but by this point I’m too overwhelmed to shriek. I just shake my head, bewildered.
Kirk comes back to say goodbye, giving me a kiss on the cheek and Angie a kiss on the cheek AND a hug (hubba hubba, Kirk is kinda hot). At some point, Kirk tells me he likes my braids. I figure maybe that’s why this is all happening, Angie's Barbie tee and my big hoop earrings and a couple little braids here and there, very Julia Stiles in Save the Last Dance. Good accessory call, I think. Meanwhile, some girl had butted in with Hub, and Angie and I just stood there waiting, smiling like we were not freaking out, and sent frantic text messages but tried to appear nonchalant about it. Hub came back.

“You are just so cute,” he said. “My boy came over and told me I had to come over here and meet you cuz he knew I’d like you.”
I thought, “What! That shit’s crazy!” And then I said, "What! That shit's crazy!"
I was still dumbfounded by this whole affair.
“Nah,” he said, squeezing my arm. “You’re so cute! It’s not crazy.”

He went backstage, and me and Angie left.

At this point, I told Angie that I knew all along this was going to happen, but who could actually say that out loud? She understood.

I know that might seem like an anti-climactic ending, just going home. You all were probably thinking I went backstage and gave him something to remember, but God, that quickie shit is so two years ago for me. We just left, with the knowledge that very famous men picked us out of a huge crowd to say hello, and that we can feel pretty good about that.

Monday, May 16, 2005

Raise your hand

Who wants to go see the Roots with me Wednesday in Boston? Ian is SO dumped.

Now recruiting anyone with a love for hip hop and who also thinks they are black. I think me and Ian might have been the only ones that fit that though.

Act now or forever hold your peas.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Ronald Must Die

I really needed a caramel sundae.
I was home alone the other night, and it was only like, 8 p.m. I thought I would pick up a caramel sundae from McDonalds, the only proper place, and try like hell to avoid eating it until i was home, warm in my bed. In one hand would be my caramel sundae. In the other would be the remote, clicking through the second season of Sex & The City before I have to return it to Netflix. Yes, I actually HAVE to return it, because I can't afford Netflix anymore.

Anyway, I got to McDonalds and entered the drive thru, since I always drive thru and since I was wearing pajama bottoms and no bra. I pulled up to the speaker and scanned the menu absent-mindedly, wondering if I wanted nuts. I noticed that the dessert section now had McFlurry's and hot fudge sundaes. No caramel. Hm.

"Welcome to McDonalds, may I take your order please?"
"Oh, hi, can I get a caramel sundae please..."
I trailed off, trying to decide if i should ask for the extra caramel on the bottom, when to my surprise, she interjected.
"We don't have caramel."
"Um, excuse me?"
"We don't have caramel."
"Oh, crap. OK I'll have an oreo McFlurry."

I drove around in a panic. Maybe they just ran out. Maybe it's just this McDonalds. On the way over, I had been contemplating whether I should go to the McDonalds on West Main or East Main; maybe I had just made the wrong choice and I was being punished.
I pulled up to the disinterested looking Hispanic girl at the window and handed her my $2 and change, far more than I should be paying if I were getting my $1 caramel sundae.

"So," I said, trying to act composed. "Are you just out of caramel or do you not carry it anymore?"
"We don't have it anymore."

My face dropped. I looked at her sadly, and I told her quite honestly that this was the saddest thing I have ever heard in my life. She smiled politely.
I went home with my McFlurry and made a couple frantic phone calls, trying to find out if this was a McDonalds-wide phenomenon. Jamie confirmed that she in fact also had tried to get a caramel sundae a few weeks ago, to no avail. Oh my god.

So, yesterday afternoon I went to my Memere's house to bring her some oatmeal in the hospital. I went instinctively to the fridge for a Diet Pepsi, and there in a blaze of glory was a bottle of caramel on the door. I reached and swiftly pulled off the cap and squirted it right into my mouth-- about a full mouthful if truth be told. God, it's good. McDonalds be damned.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

To any of you who were faithful readers of the Mosaic in the good old days, i suggest today you check out the features section at www.newportmercury.com. A scintillating story about thefacebook.com, which unfortunately has my picture but i suggest if you're nearby, you pick up the print edition. THAT one has cute pics of Angie, Abby, Brian, Dave, etc. all over the page which makes sense. that picture of me... does not. But I love you guys and I wanted to share.

A blog about my traumatic Tuesday evening will follow later tonight! Nothing serious, except it is serious.

Monday, May 09, 2005

The Black Experience

Anyone who's driven with me on a Sunday knows where I keep my dial set. Sunday is the day of rest, the day of family dinners... The day to leave the island and jam in my car to 95.5 WBRU. Any other day, this is not my station of choice, but on Sunday, the alt-rock station becomes 360: The Black Experience.

In the morning, they take ya to church with gospel in case your hangover kept you from the chapel. Evenings ease into "The Gentle Touch" slow jams. The music is interspersed with shoutouts that usually sound like this: "To JoJo, from your wifey. I love and miss you. Keep ya head up and you'll get home soon." One can guess that all the radios in the ACI are tuned to 95.5 on Sundays, as inmates listen for a personal shoutout from their own wifey, a reason to keep their head up.

Most of the DJs are horrible. They stutter, they stumble and they generally have nothing interesting to say, but I manage to block out the 30 or 40 seconds at a time to have a radio experience blissfully high on hip-hop but low on G-Unit. It's one day to listen to the old-school, the classics, the hits that don't get the overblown play on Hot 106 and enjoy being in the car. Sunday was an especially good day because I had a lucky day.

They do contests constantly, and sometimes I get the sense I should try because anyone else who's listening probably has to wait in line and call collect from the payphone. They were talking about a Roots concert in Boston and said, "call up and be the 9th caller to win and see the Roots." So, I called. Beep Beep Beep. Over and over, maybe like 9 times. Ehh, i figured, I'll call ONE more time and if it doesn't get through, I'll stop. So I did... it didn't. I put the phone down.

Still, I called one more time, because I had this feeling that I would win. Nope. Busy again.

Put the phone back down. Ugh, one more time, I thought. Ring! Ring!

"Hello, this is 360"
"Hi, I'm calling about the concert tickets?"
"Do you like the Roots, cuz you're the 9th caller!"

I like 95.5 because they don't play your conversation when you win. So I said hells, yes, I like the Roots.

In a grand sweep of serendipity, my sisters in soul, Floetry, are the opening act. Yesssss. I'm bringing Ian, which is good because I'll be on the guest list and I'm afraid I'll have to say "I'm with the Black Experience." Ian won't mind though.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

For Miss M, whenever I decide to leave

Dear Miss M,

I will soon be leaving House for the following reasons.

There is no way I can feed two dogs and a cat, keep them fresh-smelling and happy for two and a half months with $40 and I need more money. Your cat kills something nearly every day—a couple weeks ago, it was the lower half of a dead grey thing and today I was greeted with blue jay leftovers—and your dogs think they’re supposed to shit in the house. At least they stopped humping each other now that they’re out of heat, but nonetheless, it must say somewhere in the health books scattered around the house that breathing in urine and feces every morning is not good for the lungs. I thought maybe if I gave them more freedom they’d stop shitting, but they tore up your couch cushions instead. Sorry. Luckily, you probably bought the couch for $30 at Building 19 anyway.

"House" is disgustingly messy, cluttered with items still wrapped that you bought from Job Lot, and infested with a wide variety of spiders. The fact that I notice another strange object taped to the wall each day, like tea bags or the plastic thing you pull off a half gallon of milk to open it, is disconcerting. I had to clear 35 bottles of vitamins from my foot-high fridge to make room which, by the way, freezes everything no matter which way I turn the dial. The fridge in “your” kitchen is full of really old eggs, vitamins and dead lobsters, and the lack of a dining room table anywhere in this two-kitchen house is confusing. Your clothes dryer doesn’t actually get a bra dry in less than two hours and I believe it’s wasting more energy than my refusal to “switch to solar power on sunny days.” You’ll find that out when the electric bill comes, though, and you can add that to the list of complaints including “ploughing the drive, bloody expensive, and $300 to fill the propane.” Again, I apologize for my excessive needs to be warm and actually leave the house this past winter. Too bad you couldn’t get your tractor out and plough the drive yourself; I would’ve paid you the $80 to see that.

Most importantly, your water turned my hair green, and I know you stole my quarters. Fucking Cheap Brit.

Most of your plants are dead, and I've taken the liberty to have your still-wrapped Patsy Cline CD that you bought from Wal-Mart many years ago. Jenn and I ate your frozen pizzas, the only bloody edible thing in your whole fridge, so you can take that off the $30 you owe me for baths and doggie perfume. Pay no attention to those photos snapped on your disposable camera, and if it smells like weed in here, it should.

I know Zup is supposed to be my emergency contact, but honestly, I think we called him enough that time after the bar when John Fing Bozzuto asked his answering machine if he had gotten his rabies shot. I’d call you myself, but I can’t find you since you faxed me your travel itinerary in French.

The dogs are taking a holiday up the street at K-9 Instincts. Cheers!

Lots of love,
Kennel Girl

Saturday, May 07, 2005

bout time

bout time you bitches posted. have he/she contact me if necessary.

love,
kate

Monday, May 02, 2005

You can quote me

I think we should devote an entire post to the theme "Best Quote of the Weekend." So if you remember any gems let them be known!

To start us off I'll submit this one (which I think I have verbatim) -

Kim: "Jenn, I'll make out with you even if I'm not drunk"

Thoughts on my way home

Yes, I made it home from Newport, safe and sound, should anyone be wondering. I actually drove home after getting into Minneapolis because I missed my bed. I also learned that my brother's roommate happened to steal all the blankets from their apartment so he could go sleep out, in the snow, for tickets to the System of a Down concert, and I would have nothing to sleep with there anyways.

So 12 hours after leaving the island I made it to my house, thanks to 3 coffee beverages, singing loudly to my RENT cd, and bopping to a radio station playing 80's music.

I thought I had met my quota for crazy encounters back in Newport, but I found out I was mistaken during my trip home. So in addition to our new friend Kim, "Lou," "Motel 6 worker who hates his life," "Guy who told Dani what Skeet means" and "Guy who asked Dani if she had a bisexual friend" I would like to include the following 2 characters.

1 - Cesear from N'Awlins. He was very chatty and informed that even though he is 28 and has a little boy he knows how to party. In fact he had been partying since Thursday while he visited friends in Providence and NYC this weekend. Apparently the party had not stopped as halfway through the flight he leaned over to tell me that his buddy convinced him to mix vodka with his Snapple. Then he shared his Ipod list, assuring me that I could listen to anything I wanted.

2 - Mustafa and the Starbucks workers in the Minneapolis Airport. It seemed English was not their first language when they asked if I wanted my Caramel Macchiato made upside down. All I got from their explanation is that they consider their beverages to be great pieces of artwork or that they are like that Dr. Pepper commercial with the guy with the long tongue. I have no idea what commercial they were describing but I was assured I would be "hooked up."

"You want delicious drink, yes? Den, we hook you up. No worry."

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Batten down the hatches, TN, because Hurricane Kate is coming through

Business suits: check
Pointy shoes: check
Wrinkle releaser spray: check
nails did: check
Brush-Ups to prevent bangin breath: double check

I finished all my work by 5 p.m. .today, which was a huge surprise, so I just may get a decent night's sleep tonight before the plane ride at a disgusting hour (6:30 a.m.). Trying to get 10 lbs of shit in a 5 lb bag (!) so I don't look high-maintenance (which I'm NOT!), but I do pack for lots of options.

I spent a lot of time worrying about what people think this week after a coworker said something to the effect of people not supporting me like I think they do. After some long, hard contemplation, I've come to the realization that none of them ever leave the island, so they can take their opinions and shove them. I will wow them to the best of my ability until they think it;s not possible to NOT hire me. I will, I REPEAT, WILL kick ass.

Wish me luck :)

Monday, April 25, 2005

I was driving up 95 yesterday, listening to the sad twangy tunes on Cat Country. I had just spent the afternoon getting hit with reality like a ton of bricks at my grandmother's house, and I was bawling my eyes out listening to some song about a mother becoming her own mother's hero through an illness. As the song wound down, an advertisement kicked on.

"Cat country 98.1... if you want more of today's country music, you'll have to move to Nashville!"

And I couldn't help but laugh.

Saturday, April 23, 2005

blame me for the rain

WANTED: a couch, anywhere. Need temporary place to sleep and shower. Promise to clean up blankets in the morning and not have any kind of sex. Will bring wine and cheese sticks as form of payment.

I'm boiling some water for some whole wheat pasta, and as I try to come back in the living room for my book, there he is. A golf-ball sized daddy longlegs, hanging on his web right in front of my face. I've reached a point where the cat's leftover mouse guts don't bug me; scooping up pissed-on newspapers and poop is like, whatever. But looking at this stupid spider and his angular little legs, weaving his way to the floor, I scream like Neve Campbell. My eyes followed his thread up to the ceiling. Sure enough, there was this daddy's daddy. I looked across the ceiling in horror and realized that they were everywhere. A little one over the couch, a huge one near the sliding door, a skinny one over the kitchen doorway. At least six in total. So after standing there dumbfounded for a few minutes and trying not to burn my pasta, I grabbed the nearest fly swatter and starting killing. Now there are spidey corpses everywhere and I think I'm gonna have to go.

I really, honestly feel like I can no longer live here, but Marianne sent me a fax (with "lots of love") saying my emergency contact is Zup. How am I gonna call Zup and tell him I'm leaving? That man probably knows three ways to kill me by looking through his monacle.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Nashville, thou art a dream

Where I am: on my bed
Where I should be: getting off a plane in Nashville

Temperature here: 43.5 degrees
Temperature there: high of 78 degrees

Conclusion: if I am not in Nashville, then my fat ass may as well go to the gym and work myself into a frenzy.

Not to worry- I am still going for the interview, but it has been postponed to next week. Of course, this throws a kink into a number of things, including my work schedule, my mother's birthday, my grandmother's 80th birthday party, reunion weekend, picking up erica j. and betsy at the airport and getting a dogsitter, but hey, I'm flexible.

The REAL downside to this is I had myself all psyched up and ready, and now I feel quite relaxed. I think this may be a bad thing, since now I'm more worried about the job I currently have. I started planning a story the other day, and opened the stupid ProJo the next day where my story idea was plastered on their South County edition. Now I have to figure out how to do it better. Stupid ProJo. What's with this competition shit anyway? That's not my bag.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Today

I was greeted this morning by a persistent hangover and the lower half of some small animal.

The hangover was my fault; I went out and had a couple martinis with my girls last night. The lower half of some small animal, I can only assume to be the work of Fred "The Killer" Astaire.

I bolted right off the couch at 10.5 Sherman about 7:30 a.m. and proceeded to the yard to throw up. Awesome. Once I'd convinced Jamie that I wouldn't die, I went home and promptly slept in the car, parked in my yard, for about an hour. The sun was nice, the bird's were tweeting, and I wasn't about to let some hangover keep me from enjoying it. When I finally dragged my listless self into the garage past the dogs, frenzied by my being there for so long but not coming in, I stopped and screamed.

I opened the door to the food room and almost stepped down onto something gray and furry. It wasn't bloody. At first, I thought it was a stuffed animal, but I don't recall leaving a gray stuffed lower extremity lying around. The worst part of it is that I couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe a rabbit, maybe a squirrel who lost its tail... I pondered it, and Elsa came over and grabbed it in her mouth and tried to run, so I screamed some more, gave up, and took a shower.
Keep in mind that I now bring a flip flop in the shower, a.k.a. Arachno-City. I came out pukey and wet and tried to dispose of the half-animal, but I couldn't find it.

I guess it's gone now. Wierd.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Holla back youngins

My apologies for lack of posts. I spent the weekend in sunny Hartford at a writer's conference which was very cool. Heard some super speakers and got super-inspired to be a super-journalist. In other news, though, some random fun facts:

During a banquet tonight, I sat next to the publisher of my paper who I happened to know, knows Miss M and the mysterious Zup. So I name dropped a bit and discussed with him "House," a.k.a. the Glen. "Ah, the Glen that burnt down," he said. We then spent a bit of time discussing whether the house was burned down by a candle, Indians or electrical malfunction.

In the event it was electrical, since Miss M built the new house on the very same foundation, the publisher advised me that I should either sleep on the first floor or plan an escape route. He said it takes quite some time to burn through the roof, so I should plan to just stay up there until the firefighters arrive or maybe shimmy down the decks.

When asked what Zup's real name is, the publisher said R. Campbell. Well, where on God's green earth did Zup come from, I asked. He looked at me incredulously.

"Have you seen the guy? He's a Zup if I ever saw one. What a character. I mean, his clothing!"

Zup was in fact a CIA agent, and he apparently spent the Vietnam era in Southeast Asia, running the mountains with the rebels or something.

"Oh, he's got some STORIES," the publisher said. "And boy, don't get on his bad side."

Duly noted.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

A few details to figure out

Hey I was thinking I better book the Motel 6. I'm thinking 2 rooms again? I can reserve them and you guys can just pay me back there.

Confirmed: Me, Bets, Kate, Erica, Jenn = 2 nights. Jess = fri pm. Josh = sat pm?
Maybe: Meg, Courtney, Chelle, Cathy

Also I'm hoping someone could pick me up at the airport that Friday around 5:25 pm? ;)

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Add hard water to the list of things that are wrong with this housesitting gig.

If you've seen me in the last month, you may have been privy to my whining about my hair looking greenish. Not all over, just where I have blonde highlights, but it's caused a compromise on my self-esteem a bit. So, I threw myself to the mercy of the girl at Sally's Beauty Supply who with her straight black hair has never experienced the shame.

"Please! I need your help!" I said as I busted through the door, pushing aside the ghetto-looking woman near the register. "My hair is green and I need to fix it."

"OK," the lovely clerk said, looking concerned. We scoured the shelves together and I poured out my heart about how I was living in this new house and I don't know when my hair turned green, but it definitely is and I need to fix it before my job interview. We looked at swimmer's shampoo, but still it just didn't seem right... then, there it was! Shampoo for people with well water that probably doesn't get maintained or purified just like the rest of the house! (OK I added that part)

So, now I've been showering at the Y for the last two days with my hard water/well water shampoo to prevent "build up of iron, copper and magnesium from well water." And, I've been asking everyone I;ve seen in the last two days if my hair is any less green. I asked Nat at my town council meeting to which he replied,
"Kate! Every time you see me, you ask me if your hair is less green! I refuse to be part of your green hair drama any more!"
I stuck out my lower lip and sighed. He didn't budge.

I think it's a little less green though.

Saturday, April 09, 2005

SORRY

After suffering through two straight days of migraines, I started to think that the problem was my allergies, or my sinuses, or my eyes or something else because, TWO DAYS??

Then I remembered. Here's where today's random memory comes in. I pulled out my pill pack and sure enough, Thursday's was still in the foil as was today's. Miss even one of those generic puppies and I get a migraine.

"SHIT! What day is it?!?"

Friday, April 08, 2005

Why bats are ruining my life

Top 10 reasons why bats are ruining my life:
1) Since they tweet all night, I have to keep the TV on to drown it out. Since I don’t have cable, I have to put on a DVD like Finding Nemo. I know all the words to Finding Nemo, so that keeps me up anticipating the next scene, and if I put on something I haven’t seen, I can’t sleep for fear of missing something good.
2) They give me one more reason to be scared of going outside.
3) They make the dogs bark.
4) I don’t know how to harvest guano and make money off them like in Ace Ventura 2.
5) I’m afraid to open the door for too long, because if one got into “House” I don’t know if I’d even cross paths with it again, depending on which way it turned.
6) {*Tap Tap*} is that a bat trying to get in the house? {*Bang Bang*} is that a bat flying into the window? {*Hump Hump*} … no, that’s just the dogs.
7) Every once in a while, they fall silent. Just one Adolf Hitler type keeps on preaching and next thing you know they are all roaring in appreciation again. And I wonder what they’re plotting.
8) Betsy said they might actually be cicadas. When my Weatherbug came on today and started chirping, I thought it sounded vaguely familiar. Oh, hell, just get me out of this damned house.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Dollywood here I come

Thanks if anyone was "Omm"ing to Nashville... it worked.

They will be flying me out in two weeks for a day and a half worth of interviews. Can you believe there is someone who is "flying me out?" I'm not used to anyone but my mom footing that kind of bill. As a matter of fact, if I think back, there have been occasions where I have footed the bill for others during the course of biting off my nose to spite my face (but I still believe it was well worth the cost to go on that trip without Mr. Puertoriquenno).

Anyway, there are many people I am supposed to meet, one of which is the city editor who told me he was born in Pawtucket. Can ya believe that shit? Born in Pawtucket! Another is the head editor, who looks like an older, doofier version of my last sailor man. He's in the bag. Also, perhaps I'll meet George, my potential roommate whom i met on roommates.com when I started to think maybe this might happen. George is a PhD candidate at Vanderbilt in the pharmacology department (?) and, in an interesting twist of fate, is of Taiwanese descent.

I have to say, I have sat at this desk for well over two months staring at this quote Betsy sent one day. It's from AIDA.

"You don't like your fate? Change it! There are no shackles on you!"

Sometime after I wrote this out and stuck it to my desk, I decided to stay here another year. I've been kind of looking at it since then and wondering if I did the right thing, not knowing I had already lit the flame on this new course of action.

"You don't like your fate? Change it!"
I had my argument planned out. I could stay here another year rent-free and save money while becoming a better reporter and writer. Yet, I wondered if I was stagnating and staying here because it was easy.
"There are no shackles on you!"
Now I may have a chance to do something phenomenal and terrifying and so what I've been craving. I wouldn't know anyone and I'd have to make my own way; I would be thrown into a life where I really don't know what to expect. But, then again I've never known what to expect anyway. This time I'd just have to learn new highways.

I'll leave you this inspirational, somewhat sappy quote from Charles Du Bois after contemplating life beyond today.... "The important thing is this: to be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become."

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Kill them, or take them to the vet?

OK, so I was feeling a little guilty about being at work alllll day and not getting home for the dogs. I knew they'd be crazy hungry since I fed them early this morning, but I seriously worked all day nonstop and I don't do that a lot. I expected them to pee on the newspapers and I planned to not even be mad about it, considering. But things never go quite as you plan them, do they?

I cleaned out that nasty little fridge the other day that Miss M used for some wierd combo of meats, non-alcoholic beer and very, very old produce. I put it all in a garbage bag on the other side of the garage, separated from the dogs' room by a door. I guess I forgot to close that door this morning, because I came home to ALL OF IT EVERYWHERE. Now, what I'm discussing is the following refuse:
  • What the Chinese call "100 Year Eggs"
  • A package of link sausage that Miss M probably bought at Job Lot (note: they have no freezer section)
  • Their peed on and shitted on newspapers from the last week or so.

They pretty much ate all that and still tried to bite off my face when I came in. Now, I screamed so effectively that even the one in heat dropped her stupid dog-vagina between her legs and put her head down guiltily. For once, the killer cat isn't on my shit list because he managed to wait for dinner instead of going out and finding it.

IN OTHER NEWS: I was at a wine tasting class today for a story, and there was this couple sitting in the back. From eavesdropping, I learned that Heather is very impressed by herself and her beau came in from Manhattan today, looking very dapper in a tailored suit. Now, they both reeked of money and snoot, and they were both amazingly perfect looking. I wonder, do amazingly perfect people succeed more easily or does being successful and well-dressed make one seem amazingly perfect? And if a tree falls in my neighbor's yard because of his chainsaw within 100 feet of a water source, does Miss M still run down the hill to sneak pictures for DEM with her digital camera? Discuss amongst yourselves.

Ommmmm

OK, here's what we need to do. I need everyone to join me in sending a telepathic message to Nashville, Tennessee. Shut your eyes, open your mouth (stop peeking, this isn't going where you think it's going you dirty slut!) and repeat after me:

CALL KATE, CALL KATE, CALL KATE- HIRE KATE, HIRE KATE, HIRE KATE.

At least if you miss the editor, maybe you'll hit Dolly Wood and I can work as an impersonator. I already have the... voice.

Monday, April 04, 2005

Too much time on our hands

[notice she doesn't even say hello]

BetsLeigh82: blog
ericasue: already there my friend, already there
BetsLeigh82: thank GOD
ericasue: in the process of commenting
BetsLeigh82: i love comments, they are better than posts i feel
ericasue: they can be
ericasue: I am a comment whore
BetsLeigh82: haha me too
ericasue: i think we have way too much time on our hands - you, me, and kate
ericasue: we need to get erica on here more
ericasue: and some other 20 narry folks
ericasue: we need to spread the good word
BetsLeigh82: i know it
BetsLeigh82: we just need to be careful, because people we write about might find it!
ericasue: like joe lamastro?
BetsLeigh82: ha
BetsLeigh82: he can find it and go right to hell
ericasue: LOL
BetsLeigh82: and you can post me on that

And they call ME a horny bitch

In all my disdain when I realized these fucking dogs get their periods, I forgot the other key part to being in heat.
The damn dog keeps humping its mother.
Poor Elsa, who is so old she walks while shitting, keeps running around the house trying to get away from Poor Tara, who can't stop humping even when there's nothing there. She's air-humping, just wandering around in a squatted position till she happens upon something humpworthy. Don't they know they're related and doesn't Tara know she doesn't have a dick?
Also, if only dolphins and humans have sex for pleasure, that doesn't mean they're the only animals who have pleasure in sex, does it? Does anyone really care? I don't, I just want the dog to stop humping everything.

Animal updates-
Bats: still fucking tweeting. I threw a rock at the bushes where all the noise is coming from to see if anything flew out, but apparently nobody was bothered by my lame throw.
Cat: Fred "The Killer" has taken a hiatus on the mice and seems to only be eating Whiskers.
Dogs: In the words of the Divine Miss M, "quite horrrrny animals"
Pokey the tortoise: loves the broccoli

"House" updates-
Landlady status: The Divine Miss M is still in Paris. Apparently Zup is flying out to meet her there, so no need to prank call his house this month. Also, discovered interesting love letter from Zup to Miss M during routine, three-hour snooping session with Jenn this weekend. It goes a little something like this (highly condensed version), written carefully on the worst construction paper heart I've ever seen:
"Every roe has got her buck,
And every dumb its cluck.
Every up has got its chuck,
And every rink its puck.
SO every cock has got its suck,
and every nip its tuck.
Won't you be my February ___ ?"
As if that's not disturbing enough: Apparently she refers to me in correspondence with friends as "Kennel Girl"
Fridge: I have commandeered it and taken all of Miss M's vitamins out. Kava kava be damned, I need room for my Laughing Cow cheese.
Hair: highlights are slightly green tinted on account of the well water, I think. Suggestions solicited.

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Oof.

SO, call me Erica, but I've done something stupid.

I was pumping gas and trying not to mess up my freshly painted nails, so of course I dropped the gas pump, spurting fuel around. By the time I got that hose under control, I was glad to be a nonsmoker decided I wasn't wet and flammable and I got on my way. Upon my arrival back at "House," I started gathering the million bags I always come back from Warwick with and my pocketbook felt awfully light. Then, it all came flashing back.

I always put my wallet on the trunk when I use my credit card to pump gas,
and in all that hose commotion, I forgot to take it with me back in the car.

So, like any good Salve girl, I called my daddy and begged him to go look for it, since I was now 45 minutes away from Warwick. Thank God he responded with concern and not the "what the hellll do you want me to do about it" that I usually expect. In the meantime, I was greeted by snapping hungry dogs that make NO attempt to NOT pee in the house, and what has to be a dozen fruity bats howling in the trees next to my front door. Who am I, and what am I doing here?

I did what anyone in my position would do. Screamed frivolously out the door at the bats to shut the fuck up, told the dogs I hate them and cracked open the last Smirnoff when I realized that I can't even watch the fucking Red Sox opener because I LIVE IN THE WOODS AND I HAVE NO CABLE.

Don't worry, though, at least one of my problems is solved because, like a good Daddy, my father found my wallet on Veterans Memorial Boulevard. Imagine if I had to cancel my nearly maxxed credit cards.

Friday, April 01, 2005

super Zen Posted by Hello
oh we were moooooving oooouuut Posted by Hello
HOLLA ATCHA GURL Posted by Hello

NOOOOOO

Well, here we are. Me and my roomie bizzles all three spooning on my big bed in a glorious reunion. Well, we aren't spooning per se, because Erica refuses to ignore her callls she BIIIT MEEEEE
ooooooooow
they both bit me!

for those of you who don't know, if i'm not getting bit or getting sucked on it a manner that gives me unusual hickeys, my roomie bizzles are not satisfied

DjMouth1212: watch out they bite
DjMouth1212: =-O

also,

Kate H 11307: well me and my roommatres and costa are all in my bed right now is that a good start?
Scuji81: thats what I like to hear .
Okay folks how about another Newport Reunion?

Granted I know it's a little last minute and that many of you were there for St. Patty's Day. I was waiting to hear from a friend about her engagment party but apparently now it will not be there until the end of May or maybe not even until next fall. I CAN'T WAIT THAT LONG!

So which is a better weekend for everyone?
1.) April 22-24
2.) April 29-May 1
3.) Other

Ask around and get back to me and hopefully I will book a ticket (and hotel rooms?) this weekend.

Thursday, March 31, 2005

Random thoughts at bedtime

Since random thoughts are trendy today...
1) I successfully used the word "caboose" today in a story. OK, fine, it was a story about a train.
2) My yard is a venerable wildlife sanctuary and houses several varieties of birds' nests, including various birds of prey like a hawk and I think even some kind of eagle. One bird, however *definitely more like a titmouse than a bird of prey* seems to be nocturnal and tweets an average of once per minute at night. Does anyone know a bird with a sweet twitter who is nocturnal, and also how I can kill it?
3) Why do the dogs only pee in the house once the Divine Miss M has left the country? She probably thinks I'm lying, but they seriously start peeing in the house as soon as her British ass hits the end of the driveway. Now I leave for two hours and they've shit up the garage. What the f?

4) F!
I haven't posted any photos yet so here are some random ones that I'm sure we'll all appreciate.

First up, our very first Reunion Weekend. The 20 Narry girls really loved those cones. Where are they now? Are they well taken care of?


We went to the Pelham for Brian's 21st birthday and on our way home, or Via Via, he had me stop and snap a pic of him and Kate in the gazebo next to the Newport Blues Cafe. I just remember him being really enthusiastic about it.


And just in case Anonymous really is Joe Lomastro I wanted him to feel special with his very own picture. He really loved living on a floor with 35 girls keeping him up all night. Oh Miley.


Random Memory (that really only Mel and Erin would get but I don't think they are aware of this blog): Hanging out in my and Mel's room with Erin and Joe was sitting at Mel's computer singing songs. One of which was "Lets Get it On" and Erin telling him he sounded like Jack Black at the end of High Fidelity.

AAAHHH!!!!!!!!!

I'm freaking out, so please excuse me if I don't make any sense. I just got off the phone with the editor at the Nashville paper. When I called, the secretary asked if I wanted to leave a message and I told her my name and she said, "Oh, didn't he call you yesterday?"
"No," I said, "I talked to him over the weekend though."
"Oh, well he's in a meeting but I'm going to go pull him out of it, hold on."


OHMIGOSH SHE'S PULLING HIM OUT OF A MEETING FOR ME?!?!? My mind was swirling.
He came on the phone and thanked me for my package and for sending it so expiditiously (overnighted, at the brilliant suggestion of Betsy). He said he can see a lot of talent in my work and a lot of growth, and he's working with a lot of reporters over the years and can see me going places. (ME?!?!?) Then, he said he's glad he's gotten hold of me before the Boston Globe and New York Times are out looking for me. (MEEE?!?!?!??!?!??!) He said he's definitely interested and he'll be in touch to get me down there to discuss my long-term goals and possibilities with the paper.

The whole time, I was internally screaming, and thinking "holy crap, I hope he can't hear me squealing because I think it's internal but it might be leaking out."

He really means me? He means ME?!?!??!?!

AAAAH!!!!

And for the record, I was asked (by Brian) whether I sent a picture with my package, on account of the editor being a big intelligent African-American man. No, you assholes.

:)

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Stand proud!

Thought I'd share, since I'm sitting here at the computer at night again avoiding writing a dry story, that there's been a brilliant advancement in the world of candy. They now have Junior Caramels... like Junior Mints, except caramel inside. "Soft milk caramels in pure chocolate." I'm here with a box of them and a York peppermint patty hot chocolate. I couldn't be happier if I had a big jar of caramel and a spoon, much like the one I used to keep in my desk during particularly stressful semesters.

p.s. who is this anonymous commenter that says we are ALL HELLarious... I couldn't help but notice the capitalization of ALL HELL. Are you trying to tell us something? You've gotta be either Sister Marianna or Joe Lomastro... Also, no new KNEWS? Is that a purposeful misspelling or are you mocking my profession? These are questions that must be answered!

Oodles of Googles

I googled "Tom Toohey" for the hell of it. I was curious. There were 206 results but none were this blog. There were Salve baseball roster/scores that came up.

Did you know that if you google "20 Narry" the second entry is Kate's lovely farewell article. I remember sitting in New Media class on one of the first days when DHL was talking about search engines and how you have to submit your webpage to be included in Google. She said its something Mosaic should consider, and Kate goes "oooh yeah I just did it." Kate you were very on top of things like that for the paper.

And since I brought it up can we please talk about the poor editing of Mosaic Online this year? No offense to the current staff should they be reading this. But we always took such pains to make it at least look the same with consistent font size and proper line breaks even if it we missed a spelling or punctuation on occasion.

Today's issue had
an article missing its ending:
"From the assortment of muffins and scones to the moist and ap"
I don't know about you but I want to figure out what "the moist and ap..." is.

Random Memory: Well why type it out when you can
go read it and relive the genius moment!

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

A few random thoughts while I put off writing some crappy article on outsourcing for just 10 more minutes.
  1. On the Salve Web site, Dr. Eula Fresch has two interesting interests listed in her profile: global issues (how specific) and the historical preservation of cabooses. Now, here is where Eula and I differ, because if I were going to preserve a caboose, I would hope it's a nice round one (no offense, Jenn).
  2. I have come to associate writing at the computer at night with eating candy. This is a problem because I write 40 hours a week. I cannot eat candy 40 hours a week ANYMORE
  3. I think I've found Osama Bin Laden. According to the police scanner that's been buzzing for the last hour, he's the contact at Bahras' Market and he's been calling 911, then saying everything is fine when they call back.
  4. Have you guys ever considered that this shit we write on here is potentially being read by people we don't know? Do you think strangers understand our sense of humor? (If any strangers are reading this and think we're funny, speak now or forever hold your peas.)

Here I am!

Oh, hello! Pardon my absence, I haven't been able to produce any logical thoughts since Saturday that don't have to do with Nashville. What was that? You don't know what I'm talking about because I DIDN'T call you screaming yet? My bad, I thought I called everyone.

It may not turn out to be anything to get excited about. But I got a call from the editor at the Tennessean in Nashville saying he liked the stuff I sent him and he wanted me to send another package with more stuff. No, I didn't send him a kite with my panties attached (Josh!); he liked my writing! He's a big black dude. I'm SO in.

So, my mind has been swirling with the possibilities, although I've unfortunately told my present employer I will stay on another year. Oh well, they would deal. Besides, this paper is exactly 14.08 times the size of mine in circulation, and I'm still secretly thinking they called me by accident. That is pretty huge- think twice the size of the ProJo- and truth be told, it's probably out of my league. Also, it's a religion reporting job... turns out that religious studies minor might turn out to be worth more than just extra classes with Dr. Cowdin. Pray he likes this stuff and calls for an interview!

Random memory: I was job hunting last spring and wanted nothing more than manila envelopes and big Sharpies to address them. Jenn later bought me two of them, mostly so I would stop taking hers but it really touched me.

:)

Friday, March 25, 2005

I have been up for 4 hours already this morning, sent out a few resumes, read all my blogs and online news, so now I'll make a post while I wait to go do errands.

I was supposed to do a story with the president of the bank in Cass Lake today. I was given this assignment yesterday evening after the bank closed so I woke up early this morning to call the bank to make arrangements. I spoke with a woman there who put me on hold and promptly came back to tell me the president has declined doing an interview. How about a last day photo? No, he'd rather not. Could I ask you for a little information about how long he's worked there and such? I don't really know that but I can find someone who will call you back. After a little discussion with the newspaper's other reporter (there are only 2 full-time reporters and then me) I didn't get information on why the guy is leaving just a statement on what will be happening.

It is apparently good enough for them so I guess it is good enough for me. But now it's only noon and I have to figure out what to do with my day. I will probably do some more resumes and reading unless there are any other suggestions? :)

Oh look what Salve's doing now: Students publish their academic records with ePorfolios
And look DHL immortalized in a sample porfolio for all of the world wide web to see. I particularly like this quote from the sample:
"If nothing else, this is teaching me that I was definitely meant to be a journalistic writer...this scholarly crap is not for me."
Ah to be in thesis class once again.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

3/24/05

Things that were right with today:
  • I got very Zen at my first ever yoga class. I also felt proud because I already knew the cat/cow poses from the Carmen Electra Striptease video.
  • I was a super journalist and accomplished much.

Things that were very wrong with today:

  • I sprayed hairspray directly into my right eye while trying to maintain my new professional/cute like a baby hairdo.
  • Fred killed a mouse and left it for me on the sink downstairs. As usual, my coping mechanism tells me to deal with it later, which may not be smart considering the following little rhyme I've just written: If it can't walk away, it will only decay.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Teal is the new black, I hear

I'm starting to think a week is the new two days.

When did men start getting the idea that a week is an appropriate time frame to wait to call a girl? I don't know about everyone else, but after three or four days, I forget and lose interest. What brings this on, you ask? Sidney, of course!

Sidney = another name on the list of wierd foreign men who leave odd messages on my answering machine. I met him last week at the Kell's in Boston; he's a little Brazilian dude with braids and a sideways trucker hat. Cute. We danced all night and made out a little. He asked me if I was thirsty and gave me the rest of his beer, and handed me one of those sticker nametags to write my phone number on. I don't know where he got that.

Of course the next morning I slapped my forehead when the hangover wore off and thought "why did you give another man your number who has another primary language? It never works!" But alas. I did. So he just called, a week later, and leaves the following message in a Brazilian accent:

"Hi Kate, it's Sidney. Call me back, OK? Bye. oh, thank you."

With a message like that you'd think I know the guy, and wonder why he's thanking me.

P.S. I can't carry this blog forever. Get off your asses and post!

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

If that's your REAL name...

According to the phone book, the interminable CIA agent with the monacle is not really named Zup. His listing is R.C. James. Also, when googling the name Zup, there is not a SINGLE hit. Nobody on the earth/Internet goes by the name Zup.
So he and the Divine Miss M both go by names not their own. Riiiiight. Is that some kind of rich people thing?
Cue the Twilight Zone music.

Doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo

Monday, March 21, 2005

Of course (slaps forehead)

Well, phew. Here I was thinking that the contents of my coin jar, which I've been putting my silver change into for months, was emptied by the divine Miss M... Turns out it was just the ghosts. Some years back, "House" suffered a devastating fire and it burnt to the ground after some candles set the third floor ablaze. This was not the result of careless candle usage or an unfortunate draft, however. According to the Divine Miss M, it was the Indians.


This house was built on an old Indian meeting ground, and about 70 Indians of years past had taken to converging on the site. They were less than thrilled when the house went up and they waited for the perfect moment to strike back. They threw portraits off the walls and broke glass sculptures, biding their time until the stepson left the room empty, with a couple open flames. This is all according to Miss M and the "douser" hired to check the house. He discovered a veritable pow-wow playground of spirits, apparently, and advised for an exorcism after the house was rebuilt. In other words, this house should be cleaaaaaaar. But, perhaps not, since things like a bucket of quarters are suddenly disappearing from my room.


"Has anyone been in my room you don't know well, because I'm missing some change," I asked, watching for a flinch or blush, some evidence of guilt. I did catch a visible twitch, and a little flushing of the cheeks. "Well, that's bizarre, one guy with the radiator may have been here and I will certainly find out," she said. "I mean, I am pretty sure the ghosts are gone, but perhaps it was them."


Ghosts. Right. Like it's not bad enough living in the woods, without a door, and ignoring all the weird noises that I’ve acclimated myself to. Now, she is going to tell me I’m sharing the third floor with some pissed off natives?


This raises some interesting questions. If people I can't see took $20 in silver, does it still clang in their pockets? Could they be in need of ghost money, like the Buddhists burn for their dead relatives, and they can't buy any hot dogs in heaven without my money? Have they taken my money for reparations? Should I call Foxwoods and see if some transparent fuckers with feather headdresses are having a blast on my quarters while “giving back to the community?” At least these ghosts are probably civic minded, and I mean, I care about what we did to the Indians, but I really wanted those quarters to play poker.



“Perhaps I’ll consult my astrologer before I go away,” she said.


Oh. Please do.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Ahem [clears throat]

I went up to this thug gangster and he was like "yo, muthafucker, weeeee." Then, I saw this kid and he was going really fast in a wheelchair down a hill and i was like "weeeee!" When you're a kid and you wanna go "Weee..." but you ain't got drugs yet... Hold out for your life.
Hold on to your little gonads... and STRIFE !
Gonads and strife, gonads and strife, gonads and
strife, gonads and strife

[CUE
RON JEREMY]


GONADS IN THE LIGHTNING! IN THE LIGHTNING! IN THE RAIN!

Look, what I'm trying to say here is, WHERE ARE YOU FUCKS?!?!?!

Monday, March 14, 2005

23.

How old I feel!

I started off my 23rd with a phone call from my mom reminiscing about labor pain and more calories than the USDA recommends in a week, courtesy of IHOP. After a lazy afternoon at Steph's house I had possibly the best mudslide ever created at Brick Alley... followed by the best martini ever created... along with the best dessert ever created. Up total calorie content to 2 weeks worth.

I met two other March 13 babies at O'Briens, the first of which was singing a spirited rendition of "My Way." He was clearly in his 60s at least, and judging by the long mink coats of his lady companions, probably a little bit rich. He hugged and kissed me a lot, and then we took pictures. We promised to meet again next year, same time, same place. I didn't even get his name... [sigh] The second birthday baby was a very nice girl who came out of the bathroom with toilet paper stuck to her shoe. I liked her.

Steph and I sang a rendition of "I Will Survive" that had even Cathy's ex-boyfriend Tim (okay, maybe it was ONLY Cathy's ex-boyfriend Tim) singing along with a fervor. "Shoop" brought the house down, as usual. One of the copy editors here at the paper sang me a Happy Birthday before his gravelly "What a Wonderful World" and he didn't even know that me and Erica's mom both love that song! Like fate!

Surprising to me was how quickly my former Panini Grill crush got old. You all remember him. Blue eyes, blond hair, all "I've been a philosophy major for 6 years" hot. This fella used to be fiiiine and a damn good reason to show up for work, but he was all raggedy and wearing a coat with a fur-lined hood. And ladies and gentlemen, before you comment on my probable hypocrisy, that only works when you're ghetto.

When I'm not on company time I will offer a summary of this eventful weekend unless someone else would like to jump in...

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Happy Birthday Kate! You're not online for me to wish you well so I will do it here :)

I'm sure you've heard some 50 Cent's "In Da Club" today so I've selected another musical group through which to wish you a happy day:

"Happy birthday to you, you're still young.
Age is just a number, don't you stop having fun.
This is your day, your day, happy birthday to you.
This day only comes once every year,
Because you're so wonderful with each and everything you do, hey!

Happy birthday to you, this is your day.
On this day for you we're gonna love you in every way.
This is your day, your day, happy birthday to you, to you.
This day is only for you, 'cause you're so special in every way,
happy birthday to you!"

-New Kids On The Block

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Magic Stick

"I got the magic stick
I know if I can hit once, I can hit twice
I hit the baddest chicks
Shorty don't believe me, then come with me tonight
And I'll show you maaagic
(What? What?) Maaagic
I got the magic stick"

I haven't heard this song in awhile. So I knew it was fate telling me I should make a post when it came on while I checked the 20 Narry Blog.

I have a good random memory attached to this song (I am sure there are others so please share 'em): One morning after Writing and Editing for New Media, Kate, Courtney, and I drove to Ma's for some coffee when this song started playing. Courtney was so excited and of course Kate was doing her Lil Kim perfectly. Then Courtney started doing these great "What? What?" dance moves while driving. I'm sure anyone who saw us thought we all were suffering from some seizures or just plain crazy.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

RIP Christopher Wallace

Keep the f a secret, why not?
Why blow up my spot 'cause we both got hot?
Now check it
I got more Mack than Craig, and in the bed
Believe me sweetie, I got enough to feed the needy

Today is the 8th anniversary of Biggie's death. If you don't knoooow, now you know, n*gga

Monday, March 07, 2005

A little Mary J.

I woke up this morning, opened up my eyes and prayed
Lord, it's just a beautiful day
No matter what nobody say...

Despite the face that I woke up this morning to find that not only had i set my alarm clock to p.m. instead of a.m. (this discovery being made when I should've been on the way to work) AND that Elsa left not one or two but three 'surprises' for me to clean up, I'm feeling pretty damn good today. The day had virtually no potential but I stepped outside and the sun was shining and the snow was melting and I haven't stopped smiling since.

Despite the fact that I met another hot, fun, perfect-for-me guy this weekend and he also turned out to be a jerk. This one may have held a bit of potential had he not spent all night dancing/flirting with me and turned out to have a girlfriend.

Despite all this, I would like to remind my ladies that it is in fact a beautiful day.

:)

Sunday, March 06, 2005

What makes me laugh every time

Random memories: following are two memories that I can't help but crack up every time I envision them. Like picture me with tears streaming down my face when I tell these stories and nobody else knows why they're so funny, but I can picture them and they're still hysterical.
  1. Last February, a certain Ma I know was celebrating her birthday. Now, I know Betsy already touched upon this memory but in light of the upcoming reunion weekend, I have to elaborate. I was talking outside to a certain naval officer and trying to find a reason not to let him drive me home. Betsy had just finished making out with a basketball player or two as I said, "no we are going to walk." Cue Betsy, jumping up and down and screaming "I MADE OUT WITH SAM ADAMS I MADE OUT WITH SAM ADAMS!!!" On a treacherous sidewalk like Thames Street, sure enough she jumped up and down right into a pothole.

"I MADE OUT WITH (thump)... waaaaa my annnnnkle"

The naval officer looked at me with a cocky grin.

"She wan't walk on that ankle, I'll have to give you a ride."

Limp limp limp into one of my more memorable mistakes. But damn, that was funny shit.

2. Jenn was flailing around in her room on her rolly chair and went garral-ing into the hallway. She worked up some speed across her room and headed for Erica's.... (thwack) Chair tipped over, Jenn everywhere. Yeaaaa she forgot the small incline in Erica's doorway and lay sprawled there while I tried not to pee myself.

LOVE YOU ALL!

:)

Saturday, March 05, 2005

Make room on the bandwagon

Embarassing me in hysterical ways seems to be the tone of the day, so let me save you all some time.

Places Kate has puked:
  • Town Hall on her first day having a 'real job'
  • In her closet, directly in the laundry basket and surrounding areas
  • On a coworker's couch after too many tequila shots
  • On Brian, Dani and probably Jenn and Erica at some point
  • On a Lexus

Probably too embarassing to repeat, but I will:

  • Chased after Joel repeating "you are so hot," puked all night, then kicked her leg through an important press conference and promptly slept in her car at the Tiverton police station parking lot.
  • Dated Josh again (self explanatory)
  • That night someone in her room was 'heard' throughout the house when he really shouldn't have been there in the first place... the next day she fell asleep in the fridge at work and called Jenn and Erica from the payphone and said "Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God."
  • On her giddy 22nd birthday in New Orleans, a still drunk Kate (and Erica, for that matter) told strangers on the airport shuttle that if she were on death row, she would request Popeye's chicken and mashed potatoes as her last meal.

That oughtta tide you over.

Tell me 'bout the good old days

First things first. I'm not in favor of censorship. I think the FCC is a load of crap and nobody should burn books, but I had to take off the picture of me ass-up in the toilet. I can't have that shit floating around on the Internet, because someday I'm going to be up for an important job and I can just picture it. I'm sitting in a leather swivel chair across from a balding man with a Sharpie holding my resume and career in his hands, and his assistant will come in, whispering something in his ear, and hand him a paper. He'll look shocked, then appalled, then look at me sternly.
"Is this you?" he'll say, handing over the dreaded picture that has hung over my
head since Josh McGinn's parents went away and I drank too much Bacardi.
I'll nod, having nothing to say for myself, and leave with my tail between my legs. So you see, it's really my life we're talking about here, not just my ass.

The prom last night hosted by 10.5 Sherman was fabulous. We danced, drank, groped, Brian lifted my dress over my head- in short, everything I had hoped for. This morning, though, as I was tiptoe-ing around looking for my stuff, I got a little sentimental. The stench of beer hung heavy and the red party cups were still all over the beirut table. People were sleeping anywhere and everywhere, pizza boxes and empty bottles strewn about, and I suddenly remembered mornings doing the same thing, trying to get sober and dressed for work after a long, drunken, fabulous night.

Which leads me to my first random memory: that time I was leaving for Ocean Breeze and those three dudes were sitting at the kitchen table sleeping, with their heads just sort of down, and I
had no idea who they were. I think Cathy drove them to the Warwick Mall.

:)