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.

:)

Friday, March 04, 2005

More space for me to blab!

Oh I am happy to be here! For once my junk mail held an amazing treasure. I've never used Blogger so we shall see how this turns out. I've been writing a blog to keep me occupied since August its over at LiveJournal: belledame_merci (from the Keats poem, good name at the time but I'm having my doubts lately). Just something to amuse me and maybe you too.

When all of you are in Newport next weekend please drink, I mean think, of me. I wish I could be there too. Hopefully some of you will be interested in returning in April? I'm not positive when.

How's this for a memory: Taking the #60 bus to Providence on a Thursday evening and having no idea where to go, so I went along with a group of y'all to Bar One. That is one of my early memories of hanging with the 20 Narry girls, before there was a 20 Narry. Also I think you guys every day that I travel to Cass Lake to cover a story, because I pass a sign for the exit to a small town named... Nary.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

You can't NOT love her

Erica's attempt at learning to blog:

Kate H : you created a new blog instead of posting. DO NOT click the one that says create a new blog, you are going to POST within the blog
Erica: theres no option to post
Kate H: click it first.
Erica: click what
Erica: shit i forgot my password
Erica: and my username apparently

A potato by any other name

This is my confession. I still can't cook.

At 20 Narry, I was notorious for eating raw noodles because that meant I didn't have to put them in a pot; here at "House" I failed at making Ketatoes.

No, not potatoes... ketatoes are imitation potatoes made from soy or something. All I had to do was dump this Job Lot powder into boiling water and bam, there should be Ketato. But alas, no ketatoes to be had, just soupy sweet potato-like stuff that I dumped into Marianne's toilet. I'm sure I'll hear about that when her john backs up.

(Insert bad British accent here) "Kaaate, have you beeen bahhh-fing in my twa-let? There's baa-hf or summthing in the twa-let. You must clean UP betta, raaaaaally."
The way it was. Posted by Hello