As I type this, I am struggling with the sniffles, a runny nose and a hacking cough (sexy, I know).
Much to my chagrin, my body decided to catch a cold this New Year's Eve.
I guess that's what happens when you decide to walk downtown to work on your photography... without a coat.
It was about 60 degrees yesterday when I set out with my camera... with only a top and a silk pashmina around my neck (before you ask, I had jeans on, too). By the time I started walking back from downtown... the temperature probably had dropped to the mid 50s.
Now I may spend New Year's Eve in bed, wearing flannel pajama pants and a mud mask.
So much for my Fun Clothes and the Pink Wig.
Not so random, but I'm still musing.
Friday, December 31, 2004
Thursday, December 30, 2004
What Would You Do For Money?
It's a question I'm chewing on as the I count my numbered days of gainful employment.
While I scan the want ads and network with the connected people I know, I am also contemplating the very worst; that first day when I realize I can't bank on money coming in (okay, I had to use it.)
That's one of my all time, greatest fears. Not a dime to anticipate.
Nada.
I don't need to be rolling in the cash, I long got cut off from my silver spoon, thrust into the world with two fists and a sponge for brains. Somehow I managed to putter along nicely in the world of television journalism. But my love affair with five second soundbites and nickel words is over, and now I'm working to find my next day's work.
However, until I slip into that spot I'm destined to fill, I may have to pass the days and save my dimes the all-American way: with old fashioned sweat equity (or at least in a few jobs I'd rather omit from my resume.)
The options:
Waiting Tables
I did this in the summers of my high school and college years. It's a lucrative job if you can find the right spot. I don't know if my many years off the circuit has 86ed the serving talents from my internal hard drive... I may soon get a chance to see if I can remember the difference between a martini and Gibson (well, okay, I know that one...)
Babysitting
I still moonlight as a babysitter for three different families. Very lucrative but not as predictable. Maybe I could whore myself out to the Soccer Mom set. Picture it: Black business cards with "Mother's Little Helper" printed in silver with a hip font. I could hand them out at playgrounds, malls and at the gym... hmm. This could work, but I don't want to babysit for the rest of my life... so I may need to consider other options.
Selling Plasma
Never done it. I dunno, it smacks of medical prostitution, but there are days when I think I'm hard up enough that I'd give it a try (I live paycheck to paycheck folks, and I don't put a whole lot of planning into my budget. Yes, this is a huge mistake). I know folks who have gone under the needle for a quick 35 bucks, "You get to watch movies," they say. I don't know... somehow the chance to watch Weekend at Bernies doesn't seem to make it all better, you know?
Retail,
This option really isn't one. Lots of folks make great money selling stuff at the mall, but they probably don't have Retail Therapy issues. I know that if I put a week of honest work in at The Gap, I'd still end up owing them money. I'd take home every damn sweater set or cute little jacket before they even made it to the front of the store. I suppose I could work in a store where I really wouldn't buy stuff... I'm just at a loss for what kind of store that'd be. I'd buy shoes, candles, diamonds, lotion, cosmetics or just about anything else featured in any store. This option is trouble with a capital T.
Hmmm. I need to consider my options a little more.
While I scan the want ads and network with the connected people I know, I am also contemplating the very worst; that first day when I realize I can't bank on money coming in (okay, I had to use it.)
That's one of my all time, greatest fears. Not a dime to anticipate.
Nada.
I don't need to be rolling in the cash, I long got cut off from my silver spoon, thrust into the world with two fists and a sponge for brains. Somehow I managed to putter along nicely in the world of television journalism. But my love affair with five second soundbites and nickel words is over, and now I'm working to find my next day's work.
However, until I slip into that spot I'm destined to fill, I may have to pass the days and save my dimes the all-American way: with old fashioned sweat equity (or at least in a few jobs I'd rather omit from my resume.)
The options:
Waiting Tables
I did this in the summers of my high school and college years. It's a lucrative job if you can find the right spot. I don't know if my many years off the circuit has 86ed the serving talents from my internal hard drive... I may soon get a chance to see if I can remember the difference between a martini and Gibson (well, okay, I know that one...)
Babysitting
I still moonlight as a babysitter for three different families. Very lucrative but not as predictable. Maybe I could whore myself out to the Soccer Mom set. Picture it: Black business cards with "Mother's Little Helper" printed in silver with a hip font. I could hand them out at playgrounds, malls and at the gym... hmm. This could work, but I don't want to babysit for the rest of my life... so I may need to consider other options.
Selling Plasma
Never done it. I dunno, it smacks of medical prostitution, but there are days when I think I'm hard up enough that I'd give it a try (I live paycheck to paycheck folks, and I don't put a whole lot of planning into my budget. Yes, this is a huge mistake). I know folks who have gone under the needle for a quick 35 bucks, "You get to watch movies," they say. I don't know... somehow the chance to watch Weekend at Bernies doesn't seem to make it all better, you know?
Retail,
This option really isn't one. Lots of folks make great money selling stuff at the mall, but they probably don't have Retail Therapy issues. I know that if I put a week of honest work in at The Gap, I'd still end up owing them money. I'd take home every damn sweater set or cute little jacket before they even made it to the front of the store. I suppose I could work in a store where I really wouldn't buy stuff... I'm just at a loss for what kind of store that'd be. I'd buy shoes, candles, diamonds, lotion, cosmetics or just about anything else featured in any store. This option is trouble with a capital T.
Hmmm. I need to consider my options a little more.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
What Are You Doing New Years Eve?
My page-a-day calendar tells me it's almost time to party like it's 1999, er, 2004.
That means it's time to get my affairs in order.
Not those affairs, the affairs that involve any activity for a such a prominent day in a single gal's social calendar.
So far, here are my options:
A) Go to a party with all my married friends, hang out next to the chip-and-dip table and play some mean Trivial Pursuit (ooohh, useless information is just oozing out of my brain thanks to the practice at Christmas).
B) Round up all my single gal pals (including my friend in the red leather pants), put on the fun clothes and my pink wig and hit the bar/club scene to rub elbows and bump and grind (okay, not so keen on that second part) with every other singleton in LexVegas.
I am leaning towards B) only because of the wig factor. It's so cool, almost chin length and flippy. It's a la Kelly Osborne (in fact, some jackbag yelled out "Yo, Kelly Osborne," one time when I took it to the hip streets of Lexington.) I love playing dress up, and a wig is no better way to jerk you into a different personality.
In some ways I hate New Year's Eve. It's a night full of imposed pressure that intensifies as that second hand sweeps up towards the top of the clock. Without question, in every bar in every town in every state across the country, no, the world, people look to see just who they'll be locking lips with at the stroke of Midnight.
Some folks are lucky to walk into a bar or party, arm in arm with their spouse or significant other, full well knowing who they'll be planting a wet one on when The Ball drops.
.jpg)
Not me.
Other folks start panting around 11:30... scanning the room for another sole soul in the room to grab and hold onto as the world welcomes the New Year. I hate that because it's just too damn familiar... I mean, really, how can you have a great kiss with someone you've only just met? My stomach starts sinking as the clock marches on, counting time and carrying the burden of bringing us through to a new year, a new challenge, a new opportunity.
Nooo, when the clock strikes midnight, regardless of the scene, I'll likely be standing alone, my heart beating with a giant thud: loud from nerves, loud from emptiness and loud from regret.
I hate New Year's Eve because of the stares I draw from those folks sharing the moment with another soul. You know, the pity glares, "Oh, Kate. Kiss my husband. Every girl needs a kiss on New Year's Eve, plus ****'s always admired your rack."
Really.
I declined.
No. Not this year. I shall stand strong in my pink wig with my friend in the red leather pants, waiting for a day without so much significance.
That means it's time to get my affairs in order.
Not those affairs, the affairs that involve any activity for a such a prominent day in a single gal's social calendar.
So far, here are my options:
A) Go to a party with all my married friends, hang out next to the chip-and-dip table and play some mean Trivial Pursuit (ooohh, useless information is just oozing out of my brain thanks to the practice at Christmas).
B) Round up all my single gal pals (including my friend in the red leather pants), put on the fun clothes and my pink wig and hit the bar/club scene to rub elbows and bump and grind (okay, not so keen on that second part) with every other singleton in LexVegas.
I am leaning towards B) only because of the wig factor. It's so cool, almost chin length and flippy. It's a la Kelly Osborne (in fact, some jackbag yelled out "Yo, Kelly Osborne," one time when I took it to the hip streets of Lexington.) I love playing dress up, and a wig is no better way to jerk you into a different personality.
In some ways I hate New Year's Eve. It's a night full of imposed pressure that intensifies as that second hand sweeps up towards the top of the clock. Without question, in every bar in every town in every state across the country, no, the world, people look to see just who they'll be locking lips with at the stroke of Midnight.
Some folks are lucky to walk into a bar or party, arm in arm with their spouse or significant other, full well knowing who they'll be planting a wet one on when The Ball drops.
Not me.
Other folks start panting around 11:30... scanning the room for another sole soul in the room to grab and hold onto as the world welcomes the New Year. I hate that because it's just too damn familiar... I mean, really, how can you have a great kiss with someone you've only just met? My stomach starts sinking as the clock marches on, counting time and carrying the burden of bringing us through to a new year, a new challenge, a new opportunity.
Nooo, when the clock strikes midnight, regardless of the scene, I'll likely be standing alone, my heart beating with a giant thud: loud from nerves, loud from emptiness and loud from regret.
I hate New Year's Eve because of the stares I draw from those folks sharing the moment with another soul. You know, the pity glares, "Oh, Kate. Kiss my husband. Every girl needs a kiss on New Year's Eve, plus ****'s always admired your rack."
Really.
I declined.
No. Not this year. I shall stand strong in my pink wig with my friend in the red leather pants, waiting for a day without so much significance.
Most Expensive Things 2004
In my next life, I want to drive this:
Courtesy Forbes Most Expensive Things 2004
Courtesy Forbes Most Expensive Things 2004
Prayers of Hope
Photo courtesy of reuters.com
I see and read about crazy news stories all the time, few of them really elicit an emotional rise out of me. The catastrophic tragedy brought on by the tsunami in Asia is heartbreaking.
You can help the folks over there recover from this disaster.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Who's been reading my blog???
I know I sound somewhat pathetic on this blog... talking about my lackluster love live... but did you have to go and tell John Stossel about it?
20/20 featured a special edition tonight all about finding the right mate.
It seems I'm not alone in this boat...
20/20 featured a special edition tonight all about finding the right mate.
It seems I'm not alone in this boat...
Kentucky Woman
I'm back in the Bluegrass, and I even have my luggage with me.
The station's already put me to work... on the 11 tonight... the 5 tomorrow and then back to my noon sched. by Thursday. then New Years Eve. No plans then.
I'm so tired... if only y'all were in Lex. This newscast should be a good one. I don't even know if I'll be able to string coherent sentences together by then.
Monday, December 27, 2004
Third Time's A Charm
Call it Comairgate.
The damn airline has cancelled my flights for a second time.
I was to leave CT Sunday night... then it got pushed off to Monday night. I show up in Hahtfed and they tell me (well actually Susan with Delta Airlines calls me) my flight was cancelled yet again.
Now I leave tomorrow morning.
I am beginning to realize I am not super human... and all this family togetherness (Middle Sister * and the brother-in-law got cancelled as well tonight on US Airways) is starting to wear me down.
I even called my mom a bitch.
I'm soo going to hell for that one.
The damn airline has cancelled my flights for a second time.
I was to leave CT Sunday night... then it got pushed off to Monday night. I show up in Hahtfed and they tell me (well actually Susan with Delta Airlines calls me) my flight was cancelled yet again.
Now I leave tomorrow morning.
I am beginning to realize I am not super human... and all this family togetherness (Middle Sister * and the brother-in-law got cancelled as well tonight on US Airways) is starting to wear me down.
I even called my mom a bitch.
I'm soo going to hell for that one.
It was nice while it lasted...
11:57 am on a Monday morning.
My bags aren't packed, I need a shower, and I just feel like curling up in my bed embryo style.
This trip home has been a sweet surprise. From the walk by the water to the two rounds of Trivial Pursuit (score: Boys 1, Girls 1. Rematch tentatively planned for June.), this has been a fabulous trip home.
Which says a lot.
I come from a family of yellers. We communicate and do more than our part to express our emotion. I unfortunately did not get the yelling gene (my fighting style relies on more of a pouter/retreater technique), which comes in handy during regular, familial chit-chat.
Basically, I have a hard time getting a word in edgewise.
This trip though, there wasn't much fighting, well, except for one time when little sister + pulled a less than sisterly stunt that I'll avoid expanding on. But all in all, everyone got along splendidly.
Now, I am probably five pounds heavier and chock full of some excellent memories I'll chew on when I'm laying alone in bed some night, thinking about the happy times, the moments I really felt loved.
What is this drivel? It's as though some man with a smoking jacket and a musty pipe has overcome me.
Anyway. We all had a great time mugging for my new digital camera, and there are even a few pics on the memory card I won't delete (true sign of vanity: when you flip through all the pictures, and some are even great, but you say "Oh no. Delete that one... it shows my double chin. Eeewww. That one you can see my pooch in.")
My dad will soon be home with lunch: a white clam pizza. It's something I've only ever had in the Northeast, and we want to share the experience (and oh, boy, it's one heck of an experience) with my brother-in-law. Then we'll all hit the showers (what is this, gym class?) before we head up collectively to Hahtfed Hartford for our respective flights.
I'm looking forward to getting back to Lex. Now I just have to bust hump finding a job...
My bags aren't packed, I need a shower, and I just feel like curling up in my bed embryo style.
This trip home has been a sweet surprise. From the walk by the water to the two rounds of Trivial Pursuit (score: Boys 1, Girls 1. Rematch tentatively planned for June.), this has been a fabulous trip home.
Which says a lot.
I come from a family of yellers. We communicate and do more than our part to express our emotion. I unfortunately did not get the yelling gene (my fighting style relies on more of a pouter/retreater technique), which comes in handy during regular, familial chit-chat.
Basically, I have a hard time getting a word in edgewise.
This trip though, there wasn't much fighting, well, except for one time when little sister + pulled a less than sisterly stunt that I'll avoid expanding on. But all in all, everyone got along splendidly.
Now, I am probably five pounds heavier and chock full of some excellent memories I'll chew on when I'm laying alone in bed some night, thinking about the happy times, the moments I really felt loved.
What is this drivel? It's as though some man with a smoking jacket and a musty pipe has overcome me.
Anyway. We all had a great time mugging for my new digital camera, and there are even a few pics on the memory card I won't delete (true sign of vanity: when you flip through all the pictures, and some are even great, but you say "Oh no. Delete that one... it shows my double chin. Eeewww. That one you can see my pooch in.")
My dad will soon be home with lunch: a white clam pizza. It's something I've only ever had in the Northeast, and we want to share the experience (and oh, boy, it's one heck of an experience) with my brother-in-law. Then we'll all hit the showers (what is this, gym class?) before we head up collectively to Hahtfed Hartford for our respective flights.
I'm looking forward to getting back to Lex. Now I just have to bust hump finding a job...
Sunday, December 26, 2004
That First Sip of Wine...
I have started living life the way "other" people do, it seems.
I had my first sip of wine (other than that served at communion) on Christmas Eve. It was an event that passed by without much fanfare (just the way I wanted it) and yet I was SO proud to be able to be just a normal person, enjoying a glass of wine with family.
I stopped drinking alcohol November 30th (You can read here and here for the gory details) of 2003 as an opportunity to get my affairs in order. Most aspects of my life are back to normal (save for my ultimate fears of being financially responsible and organized) and I feel I have made a full recovery from a dangerous trek on that troubled path called Party Girl Avenue. No more drinking until 4:30 in the morning. On a Tuesday. Only to go to work then next morning (really). No more popping open the Crystal (yeah, right. More likely the Woodford or Absolut. Or the Guinness. Or the merlot. Or if desperate the Vendage.) to rock out until I'd turned out every light in Lexington.
Now I really don't even get wild. Sometimes I get a wild hair and put on my dancin' shoes and my fun clothes (doesn't every girl have fun clothes?) and spend some quality time on the dance floor of my favorite hip-hop club.
But I digress.
Christmas Eve I decided I'd dabble in the world of responsible drinking. I know the naysayers will warn me... no, scold me for crossing that line in the sand... the gray space between sobriety and all-out drunkenness. But I firmly believe I have done enough work on me personally and have given this matter enough consideration. I absolutely believe I can drink responsibly, and will now be instituting a two drink max per evening for myself. I know I can handle these ground rules, and what better way to start this next phase of my life, than at a holiday dinner surrounded by my family?
The meal was pasta carbonara (with ham instead of bacon, and peas thrown in for a bit of green), cooked by my brother-in-law. The wine was a chardonnay (not my favorite). I started out with only half a glass... and I didn't even finish that much. However, the moment was a little triumph in my book.
In AA... they talk about how "other" people can drink responsibly. "Other" people don't binge drink the way alcoholics do. "Other" people don't stare at the bottle at the table, scan the glasses at each setting and size up just how much wine is considered their "share" at one setting. "Other" people don't write bad checks to buy alcohol.
By the same token... alcoholics aren't consumed with anything but drinking. Those folks haven't yet cultivated other interests and passions to keep themselves occupied, activities and people they can count on to fill their days, instead of happy hours, late nights and drink specials.
I don't really know where I fit on that continuum between the two contrasting lifestyles. I've been wet and I've been dry. Both phases have been a blast for varying different qualities, but both have been miserable, too.
It will be interesting to see how this next phase works out.
Oh, and that first sip? It was great.
I had my first sip of wine (other than that served at communion) on Christmas Eve. It was an event that passed by without much fanfare (just the way I wanted it) and yet I was SO proud to be able to be just a normal person, enjoying a glass of wine with family.
I stopped drinking alcohol November 30th (You can read here and here for the gory details) of 2003 as an opportunity to get my affairs in order. Most aspects of my life are back to normal (save for my ultimate fears of being financially responsible and organized) and I feel I have made a full recovery from a dangerous trek on that troubled path called Party Girl Avenue. No more drinking until 4:30 in the morning. On a Tuesday. Only to go to work then next morning (really). No more popping open the Crystal (yeah, right. More likely the Woodford or Absolut. Or the Guinness. Or the merlot. Or if desperate the Vendage.) to rock out until I'd turned out every light in Lexington.
Now I really don't even get wild. Sometimes I get a wild hair and put on my dancin' shoes and my fun clothes (doesn't every girl have fun clothes?) and spend some quality time on the dance floor of my favorite hip-hop club.
But I digress.
Christmas Eve I decided I'd dabble in the world of responsible drinking. I know the naysayers will warn me... no, scold me for crossing that line in the sand... the gray space between sobriety and all-out drunkenness. But I firmly believe I have done enough work on me personally and have given this matter enough consideration. I absolutely believe I can drink responsibly, and will now be instituting a two drink max per evening for myself. I know I can handle these ground rules, and what better way to start this next phase of my life, than at a holiday dinner surrounded by my family?
The meal was pasta carbonara (with ham instead of bacon, and peas thrown in for a bit of green), cooked by my brother-in-law. The wine was a chardonnay (not my favorite). I started out with only half a glass... and I didn't even finish that much. However, the moment was a little triumph in my book.
In AA... they talk about how "other" people can drink responsibly. "Other" people don't binge drink the way alcoholics do. "Other" people don't stare at the bottle at the table, scan the glasses at each setting and size up just how much wine is considered their "share" at one setting. "Other" people don't write bad checks to buy alcohol.
By the same token... alcoholics aren't consumed with anything but drinking. Those folks haven't yet cultivated other interests and passions to keep themselves occupied, activities and people they can count on to fill their days, instead of happy hours, late nights and drink specials.
I don't really know where I fit on that continuum between the two contrasting lifestyles. I've been wet and I've been dry. Both phases have been a blast for varying different qualities, but both have been miserable, too.
It will be interesting to see how this next phase works out.
Oh, and that first sip? It was great.
Saturday, December 25, 2004
A Year of Romance
I am looking forward to a wonderful year, thanks to a gift I found beneath the Christmas tree.
Let me backtrack for a moment, and tell you about something I got a year ago. Last year my littlest sister + asked for Clinique Happy perfume. My mother, thinking it would be a great gift for all her girls, decided to give Happy to my middle sister * and myself.
The irony in this gift back then was not lost on anyone in my family. If you go through my posts, you'll discover I had been going through an awful, terrible, no good situation a year ago. I won't go through all the gory details because I don't have the time (and besides, why dredge up all the yuckyness of the past on such a happy day, right?), but I will say that I was in a funk, no a deep depression last Christmas.
Well. I wasn't too impressed with the Happy. It sure smelled nice, it just wasn't on my list of things for Christmas. Few things were, in fact. All I wanted was to make everything okay, to put it all back to "normal."
Fast forward a year, and it turns out this has been the happiest year of my life. All the turmoil and pain has led to tons of self discovery (it's okay, you don't need to get out the crystals and Deepak Chopra for this part) and growth. Now, I am SO SO happy with where my life is going, the person I am and the life God has dealt me.
So. Dare I draw a parallel between the perfume and the way I feel? Who knows, it could be incredibly hokey, but why mess with what works, right?
Several months ago I decided I would push for more romance in my life. My love life is like a well that's yet to be discovered. It's only dry because nobody's discovered the riches that lie beneath the surface. I'm just waiting for a Prince Charming to tap the spring that will burst and flow with abundant passion. I asked my mother for Ralph Lauren's Romance perfume, hoping it would be just the thing to do the trick.
Well. Guess what I found under my Christmas tree last night. No, go on, guess.
The whole fam damily came home last night from Midnight Mass when Mother announced we could open one, just one gift before we went to bed. How cute, making us wait until morning, even though we're all old enough to vote in the last presidential election (vote tally: 5 Kerry, 1 Bush). I plucked a bag out of the piles and piles of shiny, gold paper and glimmering red bows. Inside the bag was none other than a bottle of Romance.
"The big bottle," my mother was careful to point out.
Who knows if this little test of mine works or not. It's a fun game to play to get a great bottle of perfume, and it's nice to think maybe this year will bring to me a few great hugs and kisses, some roses, and dare I say a diamond? (Okay, I'm not counting on that last part, but who knows, right? Besides, I already have a lovely wedding all planned, and I'd hate to see it go to waste. Instant Wedding: Add groom and a cup of water, and stir vigorously.)
Now I have a great big bottle of Romance to enjoy, and I still have half a bottle of the Happy stuff. That should make for one year full of bliss.
Does that come in a spray?
Let me backtrack for a moment, and tell you about something I got a year ago. Last year my littlest sister + asked for Clinique Happy perfume. My mother, thinking it would be a great gift for all her girls, decided to give Happy to my middle sister * and myself.
The irony in this gift back then was not lost on anyone in my family. If you go through my posts, you'll discover I had been going through an awful, terrible, no good situation a year ago. I won't go through all the gory details because I don't have the time (and besides, why dredge up all the yuckyness of the past on such a happy day, right?), but I will say that I was in a funk, no a deep depression last Christmas.
Well. I wasn't too impressed with the Happy. It sure smelled nice, it just wasn't on my list of things for Christmas. Few things were, in fact. All I wanted was to make everything okay, to put it all back to "normal."
Fast forward a year, and it turns out this has been the happiest year of my life. All the turmoil and pain has led to tons of self discovery (it's okay, you don't need to get out the crystals and Deepak Chopra for this part) and growth. Now, I am SO SO happy with where my life is going, the person I am and the life God has dealt me.
So. Dare I draw a parallel between the perfume and the way I feel? Who knows, it could be incredibly hokey, but why mess with what works, right?
Several months ago I decided I would push for more romance in my life. My love life is like a well that's yet to be discovered. It's only dry because nobody's discovered the riches that lie beneath the surface. I'm just waiting for a Prince Charming to tap the spring that will burst and flow with abundant passion. I asked my mother for Ralph Lauren's Romance perfume, hoping it would be just the thing to do the trick.
Well. Guess what I found under my Christmas tree last night. No, go on, guess.
The whole fam damily came home last night from Midnight Mass when Mother announced we could open one, just one gift before we went to bed. How cute, making us wait until morning, even though we're all old enough to vote in the last presidential election (vote tally: 5 Kerry, 1 Bush). I plucked a bag out of the piles and piles of shiny, gold paper and glimmering red bows. Inside the bag was none other than a bottle of Romance.
"The big bottle," my mother was careful to point out.
Who knows if this little test of mine works or not. It's a fun game to play to get a great bottle of perfume, and it's nice to think maybe this year will bring to me a few great hugs and kisses, some roses, and dare I say a diamond? (Okay, I'm not counting on that last part, but who knows, right? Besides, I already have a lovely wedding all planned, and I'd hate to see it go to waste. Instant Wedding: Add groom and a cup of water, and stir vigorously.)
Now I have a great big bottle of Romance to enjoy, and I still have half a bottle of the Happy stuff. That should make for one year full of bliss.
Does that come in a spray?
Friday, December 24, 2004
Happy Christmas Eve...
First, the essentials:
Cold toes - check
Three cups of coffee and a full bladder needing to be emptied - check
Four presents still needing to be wrapped and five stockings waiting to be filled - check
Stinky body waiting for my turn in the shower - check
Anxious, no dying for a walk by the water at the end of the street - check
Six loved ones gathered under one roof for 2 1/2 more days - check
My middle sister * and I are having a great time hanging out, though she gets along better with my mom than I do (they're cut from the same cloth), so I am a pinch jealous * wants to hang out with mom... when I would like a wee bit of time with * to myself.
The baby sister + is 18, so she's pretty indifferent about the whole lot of us, and actually would rather spend time with her best friend A, on break from college. + does, from time to time, kiss my ass because she is hoping to get in to The Greatest University in America, and she'd like my help, the proud alumna that I am.
I better go. + just got home, and she's the most likely to bust me about my blogging habit. I'm still in the closet, so to speak. Mine is a family that, I think, just wouldn't understand.
Merry Christmas if I don't post before then :) I hope you find everything you want underneath The Tree.
Cold toes - check
Three cups of coffee and a full bladder needing to be emptied - check
Four presents still needing to be wrapped and five stockings waiting to be filled - check
Stinky body waiting for my turn in the shower - check
Anxious, no dying for a walk by the water at the end of the street - check
Six loved ones gathered under one roof for 2 1/2 more days - check
My middle sister * and I are having a great time hanging out, though she gets along better with my mom than I do (they're cut from the same cloth), so I am a pinch jealous * wants to hang out with mom... when I would like a wee bit of time with * to myself.
The baby sister + is 18, so she's pretty indifferent about the whole lot of us, and actually would rather spend time with her best friend A, on break from college. + does, from time to time, kiss my ass because she is hoping to get in to The Greatest University in America, and she'd like my help, the proud alumna that I am.
I better go. + just got home, and she's the most likely to bust me about my blogging habit. I'm still in the closet, so to speak. Mine is a family that, I think, just wouldn't understand.
Merry Christmas if I don't post before then :) I hope you find everything you want underneath The Tree.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Your Moment of Zen
I found this while checking my favorite blogs this morning. It's from The Daily Column, and it's hilarious.
Warning, this is hard to look at, and also makes fun at the expense of another (**slaps hand with a ruler**), but will bring a chuckle (or gasp) to your face.
http://hem.bredband.net/perman/cp/varning.html
Warning, this is hard to look at, and also makes fun at the expense of another (**slaps hand with a ruler**), but will bring a chuckle (or gasp) to your face.
http://hem.bredband.net/perman/cp/varning.html
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Connecticut: The New Calcutta
Who knew this place was so primitive? The drinking water here is awful, there's no protection from the elements, and the internet connection? Don't get me started.
Okay, so New York's home away from home isn't THAT rustic, but there are a few things that make this place, how do you day, less comfortable?
First off, my parents keep a cold home. This is a fact of life that comes from extremely expensive heating bills in Connecticut and a mother charging through the heart (and heat) of menopause. So I am always freezing here. As I pound away at the keyboard, my fingers feel like little, frozen snakes just dying to steal some warmth on a sunny rock. My dad sent me an email a couple days ago. Dress Warm it said, but when I think of packing for warmth, images come to mind of little Ralphie's brother, walking outside with his arms straight out because of all the layers, more staggering through the snow than he is taking steps.
Yeah, that look doesn't really work for me.
In fact, I only packed one sweater for the trip. Mostly I am wearing lighter weight tops and shirts (with little camis underneath). Yes, I am still smuggling raisins. This morning I got all dolled up, flat ironed my hair, I even put eyeliner on (that's a bellwether of just how dressed up I was) to go to the grocery with my mom. Not exactly the kind of place you want to pick up a date, but I was certainly the best dressed chick there. I can just picture it... TO THE PRODUCE GUY: "So, how are the melons. No not those, these." My mom would just die.
As for the internet connection, I feel a whole lot better. When I started this post, I was working on my little sister's computer, which is chock full of crap like songs from Maroon 5 and downloaded games. The computer was slower than trying to get a prom dress off a girl at a Baptist school. My dad told me my lil' sis apparently takes naps while she's trying to boot up her computer. Naps. Plural. Now I am working on my dad's computer with a swift DSL connection, and I am a very happy girl.
The water here can be bad, especially if you're sipping off well water. Our house is within the village limits so we have city water, and it's not that bad, actually. But you'd never know it, with as many people drinking l'eau mis en bouteille I would be inclined to think ol' Montezuma had taken a ski trip to the Northeast.
Middle Sis and her husband arrive tonight from the ATL... so anxious to see them. Finally some normal people to hang out with.
Where's the vicodin?
Okay, so New York's home away from home isn't THAT rustic, but there are a few things that make this place, how do you day, less comfortable?
First off, my parents keep a cold home. This is a fact of life that comes from extremely expensive heating bills in Connecticut and a mother charging through the heart (and heat) of menopause. So I am always freezing here. As I pound away at the keyboard, my fingers feel like little, frozen snakes just dying to steal some warmth on a sunny rock. My dad sent me an email a couple days ago. Dress Warm it said, but when I think of packing for warmth, images come to mind of little Ralphie's brother, walking outside with his arms straight out because of all the layers, more staggering through the snow than he is taking steps.
Yeah, that look doesn't really work for me.
In fact, I only packed one sweater for the trip. Mostly I am wearing lighter weight tops and shirts (with little camis underneath). Yes, I am still smuggling raisins. This morning I got all dolled up, flat ironed my hair, I even put eyeliner on (that's a bellwether of just how dressed up I was) to go to the grocery with my mom. Not exactly the kind of place you want to pick up a date, but I was certainly the best dressed chick there. I can just picture it... TO THE PRODUCE GUY: "So, how are the melons. No not those, these." My mom would just die.
As for the internet connection, I feel a whole lot better. When I started this post, I was working on my little sister's computer, which is chock full of crap like songs from Maroon 5 and downloaded games. The computer was slower than trying to get a prom dress off a girl at a Baptist school. My dad told me my lil' sis apparently takes naps while she's trying to boot up her computer. Naps. Plural. Now I am working on my dad's computer with a swift DSL connection, and I am a very happy girl.
The water here can be bad, especially if you're sipping off well water. Our house is within the village limits so we have city water, and it's not that bad, actually. But you'd never know it, with as many people drinking l'eau mis en bouteille I would be inclined to think ol' Montezuma had taken a ski trip to the Northeast.
Middle Sis and her husband arrive tonight from the ATL... so anxious to see them. Finally some normal people to hang out with.
Where's the vicodin?
Monday, December 20, 2004
The Lady Has Left The Building...
8:12 AM.
I am outta here! Home Sweet Home, here I come!
I'm looking forward to being cooked for, being showered with kisses and hugs, and looking forward to not having to make my bed.
Wait, I don't make my own bed in Lexington.
Anyway... I will be in Connecticut for Christmas (Yes Micah, that IS a movie) and so my posting may not be as regular. Guess I'll have to start a fiber diet.
Have a wonderful holiday to all... I hope Santa brings you exactly what you want!
Cheers,
Kate
I am outta here! Home Sweet Home, here I come!
I'm looking forward to being cooked for, being showered with kisses and hugs, and looking forward to not having to make my bed.
Wait, I don't make my own bed in Lexington.
Anyway... I will be in Connecticut for Christmas (Yes Micah, that IS a movie) and so my posting may not be as regular. Guess I'll have to start a fiber diet.
Have a wonderful holiday to all... I hope Santa brings you exactly what you want!
Cheers,
Kate
Rainy Days and Mondays...
At least it's not raining. But I might prefer a downpour to the arctic freeze that's blanketed Lexington. I mean really... my nipples could cut glass, folks.
I'm simultaneously catching up on my favorite blogs around the globe... and producing my morning show. Let's just say blogging is way more fun than producing a newscast.
But I digress.
Here's a few things I've been mentally chewing on:
---I am counting the seconds, really, until I go on vacation. I haven't even started packing, but I HAVE started mentally putting outfits together (the Midnight Mass outfit, the "Oh fancy bumping into a hot high school crush 10 years later" outfit, the "Let's walk on the beach in Connecticut because we're crazy and we can" outfit. The "This Old Thing? at the Bar but it really looks good" outfit) and piling up other necessities, like the digital camera and CDs. My family is a close one, and at least once when all five of us (and now the new Bro in Law) get together... we all dance in the living room. Really. It's kind of cute... first seeing the three of us girls gettin' down with mom and dad to the Supremes and other Motown favorites. As the little dance progresses, us girls start whipping out other fun songs from our family past, like Funky Town and the Stones' Miss You. Then we start rounding up today's music to school my dad on the latest tunes.
It's gonna be a great time.
---I'm getting a bit nervous about a lunch date I have today. As these things go... I can handle them beautifully (by behaving like it's an interview, rigid and all) or I can fail miserably (because I say things before I think and get incredibly uncomfortable when there's a lull in the conversation). I prefer the latter in some respects because it's the genuine me... not the I-could cut-you-with-a -knife-because-I'm-really-Sidney-Bristow act. I guess where the lulls are concerned, I need to remind myself of what Mia says to Vincent about uncomfortable silences: "That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence."
---The Scissor Sisters CD is the next one on my list to get. It really makes me move. I was listening to it today @ the book store and I caught myself breakin' it down, wearing the earphones. Sexy or dorky, you pick. Sidebar: Lexington's Joseph Beth has one of the best lunch/brunch menus around. I had a delicious cinnamon french toast dish. Made with croissants. Stuffed with fruit. Orgasm on a plate.
---My hands, my legs, my face in fact my whole body is so, so dry. I keep slathering the lotion on the appropriate spots... but my hands look like they've been put through the ringer. My cuticles are already cracking, which is no good for my nervous habit of picking at my nails/fingers. The UK/Louisville game singlehandledly left my hands with little scabs and cut up spots around my thumbs. UK barely won, though, and I'd gladly sacrifice my hands for a win against the God forsaken Cardinals. Blech. There's this great Rosebud salve that I picked up a while back at a cute boutique here in town... it smells like roses (an instant favorite) and it's supposed to do the trick... but we'll see. I do know one thing, it does wonders for the lips.
Well. I've got to get back to my show... otherwise the anchor and the weather girl are going to have a lot of chat time... and that can be dangerous.
I'm simultaneously catching up on my favorite blogs around the globe... and producing my morning show. Let's just say blogging is way more fun than producing a newscast.
But I digress.
Here's a few things I've been mentally chewing on:
---I am counting the seconds, really, until I go on vacation. I haven't even started packing, but I HAVE started mentally putting outfits together (the Midnight Mass outfit, the "Oh fancy bumping into a hot high school crush 10 years later" outfit, the "Let's walk on the beach in Connecticut because we're crazy and we can" outfit. The "This Old Thing? at the Bar but it really looks good" outfit) and piling up other necessities, like the digital camera and CDs. My family is a close one, and at least once when all five of us (and now the new Bro in Law) get together... we all dance in the living room. Really. It's kind of cute... first seeing the three of us girls gettin' down with mom and dad to the Supremes and other Motown favorites. As the little dance progresses, us girls start whipping out other fun songs from our family past, like Funky Town and the Stones' Miss You. Then we start rounding up today's music to school my dad on the latest tunes.
It's gonna be a great time.
---I'm getting a bit nervous about a lunch date I have today. As these things go... I can handle them beautifully (by behaving like it's an interview, rigid and all) or I can fail miserably (because I say things before I think and get incredibly uncomfortable when there's a lull in the conversation). I prefer the latter in some respects because it's the genuine me... not the I-could cut-you-with-a -knife-because-I'm-really-Sidney-Bristow act. I guess where the lulls are concerned, I need to remind myself of what Mia says to Vincent about uncomfortable silences: "That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence."
---The Scissor Sisters CD is the next one on my list to get. It really makes me move. I was listening to it today @ the book store and I caught myself breakin' it down, wearing the earphones. Sexy or dorky, you pick. Sidebar: Lexington's Joseph Beth has one of the best lunch/brunch menus around. I had a delicious cinnamon french toast dish. Made with croissants. Stuffed with fruit. Orgasm on a plate.
---My hands, my legs, my face in fact my whole body is so, so dry. I keep slathering the lotion on the appropriate spots... but my hands look like they've been put through the ringer. My cuticles are already cracking, which is no good for my nervous habit of picking at my nails/fingers. The UK/Louisville game singlehandledly left my hands with little scabs and cut up spots around my thumbs. UK barely won, though, and I'd gladly sacrifice my hands for a win against the God forsaken Cardinals. Blech. There's this great Rosebud salve that I picked up a while back at a cute boutique here in town... it smells like roses (an instant favorite) and it's supposed to do the trick... but we'll see. I do know one thing, it does wonders for the lips.
Well. I've got to get back to my show... otherwise the anchor and the weather girl are going to have a lot of chat time... and that can be dangerous.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
A Day Behind...
Appetizer
What is something that never fails to grab your attention?
Something that's very sensual: Bright colors, sharp cologne, sweet/savory foods.
Soup
Who was the last person who gave you money, and what was it for?
A lady named Katie. I frequently babysit for her two girls (6 and 20 months). It's a nice way to have some slush fund cash.
Salad
If you were a Smurf, what would your name be?
Too easy: Sexy Smurf.
Main Course
Do you believe in astrology? Why or why not?
Hmm. I always check out my horoscope... but I don't necessarily look to it as gospel.
Dessert
Have you seen any snow this year yet? What's the weather like today in your area?
Yes, I did today! I was going to mass with some friends, and the flakes were flittering around the Cathedral... it was just gorgeous. We were a colorful bunch, with bright fuzzy scarves and hats in the cutest part of town... it was so Norman Rockwell. It's freezing at night though... in the teens. Brrr!
What is something that never fails to grab your attention?
Something that's very sensual: Bright colors, sharp cologne, sweet/savory foods.
Soup
Who was the last person who gave you money, and what was it for?
A lady named Katie. I frequently babysit for her two girls (6 and 20 months). It's a nice way to have some slush fund cash.
Salad
If you were a Smurf, what would your name be?
Too easy: Sexy Smurf.
Main Course
Do you believe in astrology? Why or why not?
Hmm. I always check out my horoscope... but I don't necessarily look to it as gospel.
Dessert
Have you seen any snow this year yet? What's the weather like today in your area?
Yes, I did today! I was going to mass with some friends, and the flakes were flittering around the Cathedral... it was just gorgeous. We were a colorful bunch, with bright fuzzy scarves and hats in the cutest part of town... it was so Norman Rockwell. It's freezing at night though... in the teens. Brrr!
Friday, December 17, 2004
What You Waiting For?
Oh, to be a fly on the wall inside my brain.
The things that bug would see...
Right now my brain loses all control over my body movements any time I hear Gwen's song What You Waiting For?
At a moment's notice, my ass will pop out of the seat it's sitting in and start shaking around like it's my job. Earlier the song came on Launch Radio... and in a reaction akin to Pavlov's Dog, I popped out of my seat and started wiggling around like a hoochie in a rap video. SIDEBAR: I have this one dance move I like to use when I'm out at the clubs (more infrequently these days) where I shake my butt like, well... I guess you could say "a Polaroid picture." Years ago I started calling it my Carmen Electra move (when I did it at ICE in Vegas... the guy I was dancing with asked me if I was a dancer."What kind of a dancer?", I replied. Yes, he thought I was that kind of dancer. I took it as a compliment). So tonight, while the rest of the world is sleeping, I'm working the graveyard shift and shaking my moneymaker in blue velvet pants.
She's SO Hot
Every time I hear this song of Gwen's, it gets me thinking: What am I waiting for? Lots of us roam the earth waiting for the next best thing to come our way. It started when we were young: Waiting for High School, Waiting to Graduate, Waiting for The First Job. As time marches on, we're always waiting. Waiting for the good life, waiting for the day that everything's gonna be alright. Passing the days until we get that promotion, fall in love, have a baby, retire. Turning the pages of the calendar until we make it to that place where we can thrust our arms out and say "I've Arrived."
But if we sit around on our asses, waiting for that day to arrive... our rears will get pretty sore. John Lennon said "Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans." I've come to realize just how true that is. Life is all about making things happen on your own. Sometimes destiny/God will step in and help us out with the direction we're headed, but the gift of free will lets us have a hand in where we end up, too.
So what are YOU waiting for? Is there something you really want out of life? Do you think everything will be all good once you get it?
Well then, go get it. Sure, it sounds way easier than it really is... especially if what you want is a new husband, a new career or a new baby (all on my list). But with a little hard work, anything's possible.
"Look at your watch now. You're a super hot female. You got your million dollar contract. And they're all waiting for your hot track... Take a chance you stupid ho."
The things that bug would see...
Right now my brain loses all control over my body movements any time I hear Gwen's song What You Waiting For?
At a moment's notice, my ass will pop out of the seat it's sitting in and start shaking around like it's my job. Earlier the song came on Launch Radio... and in a reaction akin to Pavlov's Dog, I popped out of my seat and started wiggling around like a hoochie in a rap video. SIDEBAR: I have this one dance move I like to use when I'm out at the clubs (more infrequently these days) where I shake my butt like, well... I guess you could say "a Polaroid picture." Years ago I started calling it my Carmen Electra move (when I did it at ICE in Vegas... the guy I was dancing with asked me if I was a dancer."What kind of a dancer?", I replied. Yes, he thought I was that kind of dancer. I took it as a compliment). So tonight, while the rest of the world is sleeping, I'm working the graveyard shift and shaking my moneymaker in blue velvet pants.
She's SO Hot
Every time I hear this song of Gwen's, it gets me thinking: What am I waiting for? Lots of us roam the earth waiting for the next best thing to come our way. It started when we were young: Waiting for High School, Waiting to Graduate, Waiting for The First Job. As time marches on, we're always waiting. Waiting for the good life, waiting for the day that everything's gonna be alright. Passing the days until we get that promotion, fall in love, have a baby, retire. Turning the pages of the calendar until we make it to that place where we can thrust our arms out and say "I've Arrived."
But if we sit around on our asses, waiting for that day to arrive... our rears will get pretty sore. John Lennon said "Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans." I've come to realize just how true that is. Life is all about making things happen on your own. Sometimes destiny/God will step in and help us out with the direction we're headed, but the gift of free will lets us have a hand in where we end up, too.
So what are YOU waiting for? Is there something you really want out of life? Do you think everything will be all good once you get it?
Well then, go get it. Sure, it sounds way easier than it really is... especially if what you want is a new husband, a new career or a new baby (all on my list). But with a little hard work, anything's possible.
"Look at your watch now. You're a super hot female. You got your million dollar contract. And they're all waiting for your hot track... Take a chance you stupid ho."
Thursday, December 16, 2004
What You're Looking For
Some of you all are ending up at MRM because you want to read about a life more pathetic than yours, others are oddly entertained by my wacky writing style.
Still, others are ending up here through some totally bizarre Google searches:
"Japan junior high school girls underwear colors" ???????
"Youngstown Ohio ghetto drive by shooting" Okay, that one makes sense.
"My embarrassing moment" Again... makes sense.
"I peed in my white cotton panties." Who's searching for that topic?
"My embarrassing moment" Wow, more people interested in my messed up life.
"Livestrong celebrities Matt Damon pics". Nope, not here.
Still, others are ending up here through some totally bizarre Google searches:
"Japan junior high school girls underwear colors" ???????
"Youngstown Ohio ghetto drive by shooting" Okay, that one makes sense.
"My embarrassing moment" Again... makes sense.
"I peed in my white cotton panties." Who's searching for that topic?
"My embarrassing moment" Wow, more people interested in my messed up life.
"Livestrong celebrities Matt Damon pics". Nope, not here.
This Is Stunning
From my favorite jewelry site
Reminds me a bit of Lady Diana, whom I worshiped way back in the day when I was, like, 5... and dressing paper dolls up in her wedding dress.
Ahhh. This ring is gawgeous... If only I hadn't been a bad girl this year... maybe Santa would stuff this in my stocking.
Oh well, there's always next year.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
My "To-Do" List for Wednesday December 15th...
In order of the time they'll be accomplished... certainly not by priority:
-Make a pot of coffee (more of the Gevalia stuff.) I'm shooting to do this around 1:45 am... but my body is telling me I should have gotten my ass out of this chair an hour ago to make the damn coffee.
-Produce 1 1/2 hour long newscast. Will I get in trouble if my exhaustion leads me to disseminate wrong information? Hmm. That's an option to consider...
-Get my hair done. Woo Hoo. A hair appointment is like a meeting with God. It's the moment a woman gets to reflect on what kind of image her hair portrays (super tramp/soccer mom/high maintenance Barbie/etc.) and decide which direction she'd like to steer that image. I'm going for the "Dear God, if you talk to me... you'll never need another woman for the rest of your life." Who knew blonde highlights and some layers could express that sentiment?...
-Sleep. It's tough to maintain some semblance of a normal sleep schedule while on this F'ed up shift. I've been sleeping for 4 or 5 hours when I get off work... and then staggering little cat naps through out the day. Needless to say, hit me at the wrong time... and Kate can be a cranky girl.
-Whip up a side dish for a Christmas party tonight. I've been asked to do mashed potatoes/green been casserole/stuffing or another "main stream" side dish. Being that I'm kind of a closet "Martha" (except not so bitchy or psycho) I am considering just how I can out-do regular ol' mashed potatoes. Any suggestions?
-Babysit. This particular set of children is very demanding (I've never met a less pleasant 20 month old in my life. I'm wondering whether the youngest child has some physical problem that inhibits her ability to crack a smile.) but the mom pays me well... so I don't complain.
-Catnap.
-Run home and toss on a cute outfit for the above Christmas party. I'll be relying on some of my old standbys... the Black Knee High boots... the red off-the-shoulder shirt, a pair of gray slacks and a beautiful red and gold plaid wire trimmed bow to tie around my neck. I may very well be the best Christmas present a man could ever get.
-Attend said party with my Dirty Santa gift. I put together a basket of things based on a theme I'm going for: The Metrosexual Man Who Just Can't Get It Right. The items include: A gold plastic steering wheel cover "for the man who wants to show off his tricked out ride" and a Du Rag "for the guy who wants to keep his hair nice and neat when he be ballin'."
-Catnap.
-Go back to work at 11:30 Wednesday night...
ANYONE HAVE A LOADED GUN OR DR. KAVORKIAN'S PHONE NUMBER?
-Make a pot of coffee (more of the Gevalia stuff.) I'm shooting to do this around 1:45 am... but my body is telling me I should have gotten my ass out of this chair an hour ago to make the damn coffee.
-Produce 1 1/2 hour long newscast. Will I get in trouble if my exhaustion leads me to disseminate wrong information? Hmm. That's an option to consider...
-Get my hair done. Woo Hoo. A hair appointment is like a meeting with God. It's the moment a woman gets to reflect on what kind of image her hair portrays (super tramp/soccer mom/high maintenance Barbie/etc.) and decide which direction she'd like to steer that image. I'm going for the "Dear God, if you talk to me... you'll never need another woman for the rest of your life." Who knew blonde highlights and some layers could express that sentiment?...
-Sleep. It's tough to maintain some semblance of a normal sleep schedule while on this F'ed up shift. I've been sleeping for 4 or 5 hours when I get off work... and then staggering little cat naps through out the day. Needless to say, hit me at the wrong time... and Kate can be a cranky girl.
-Whip up a side dish for a Christmas party tonight. I've been asked to do mashed potatoes/green been casserole/stuffing or another "main stream" side dish. Being that I'm kind of a closet "Martha" (except not so bitchy or psycho) I am considering just how I can out-do regular ol' mashed potatoes. Any suggestions?
-Babysit. This particular set of children is very demanding (I've never met a less pleasant 20 month old in my life. I'm wondering whether the youngest child has some physical problem that inhibits her ability to crack a smile.) but the mom pays me well... so I don't complain.
-Catnap.
-Run home and toss on a cute outfit for the above Christmas party. I'll be relying on some of my old standbys... the Black Knee High boots... the red off-the-shoulder shirt, a pair of gray slacks and a beautiful red and gold plaid wire trimmed bow to tie around my neck. I may very well be the best Christmas present a man could ever get.
-Attend said party with my Dirty Santa gift. I put together a basket of things based on a theme I'm going for: The Metrosexual Man Who Just Can't Get It Right. The items include: A gold plastic steering wheel cover "for the man who wants to show off his tricked out ride" and a Du Rag "for the guy who wants to keep his hair nice and neat when he be ballin'."
-Catnap.
-Go back to work at 11:30 Wednesday night...
ANYONE HAVE A LOADED GUN OR DR. KAVORKIAN'S PHONE NUMBER?
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Oversharing on A Tuesday Morning
Thanks to Jay for the idea. Sorry for the thievery.
LAYER ONE:
– Name: Kate
– Birth date: December 1
– Birthplace: Charlotte
– Current Location: Work
– Eye Color: Blue
– Hair Color: Blonde
– Height: 5′8″
– Righty or Lefty: Lefty
– Zodiac Sign: Sagitarius
LAYER TWO:
– Your heritage: Irish/English/Scotch/Welsh/French/German/Austrian
The shoes you wore today: black loafers
– Your weakness: good food and men
– Your fears: Being alone and poor
– Your perfect pizza: white clam
– Goal you’d like to achieve: being a good mom
LAYER THREE:
– Your most overused phrase on AIM: I don't use it
– Your first waking thoughts: Can't I just stay here a little longer?
– Your best physical feature: Eyes... but most men would say my chest
– Your most missed memory: Missed as in missed out? Then that would be a good boyfriend
LAYER FOUR:
– Pepsi or Coke: Coke
– McDonald’s or Burger King: McDonalds
– Single or group dates: Single
– Adidas or Nike: Nike
– Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Neither
– Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate
– Cappuccino or coffee: Cappuccino
LAYER FIVE:
– Smoke: No
– Cuss: Of course
– Sing: Practically daily
– Take a shower everyday: Most of the time
– Do you think you’ve been in love:Hmmm... no... I've loved but not been in love.
– Liked high school: I survived it...
–Want to get married: Absolutely
–Believe in yourself: 100%
– Get motion sickness: No
– Think you’re attractive:How vain. But, yes...
– Think you’re a health freak: Uh, no.
– Get along with your parent(s): Very well
– Like thunderstorms: Never really considered it
– Play an instrument: No
LAYER SIX:In the past month…
– Drank alcohol: No
– Smoked: No
– Done a drug: No
– Made Out: Yes
– Gone on a date: Yes
– Gone to the mall?: Yes
– Eaten an entire box of Oreos?: No-never.
– Eaten sushi: Nope
– Been on stage: Nope
– Been dumped: No
– Gone skating: Nope
– Made homemade cookies: Nope
– Gone skinny dipping: Nope
– Dyed your hair: No
– Stolen Anything: Nope
LAYER SEVEN
Ever…
– Played a game that required removal of clothing: Yes
– If so, was it mixed company: Yes
– Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: Yes
– Been caught “doing something": Yes
– Been called a tease: Yes
– Gotten beaten up: No
– Shoplifted: No
– Changed who you were to fit in: I hate to admit it, but yes
LAYER EIGHT:
– Age you hope to be married: 30
– Numbers and Names of Children: Some day I'd like to have between 3 and 5... the names TBD
– Describe your Dream Wedding: How much time do you have?
– How do you want to die: In my sleep
– Where you want to go to college: Been there done that
–What do you want to be when you grow up: That changes from day to day
– What country would you most like to visit: Right now Italy
LAYER NINE:
– Number of drugs taken illegally: 1
– Number of people I could trust with my life: Off the top of my head 4... but probably more
– Number of CDs that I own: 200 or more
– Number of piercings: One in each ear and the remnant scar of a tongue ring
– Number of tattoos: none
– Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper?: Oh... too many times to count
– Number of scars on my body: A few insignificant ones
– Number of things in my past that I regret: Only really one
LAYER ONE:
– Name: Kate
– Birth date: December 1
– Birthplace: Charlotte
– Current Location: Work
– Eye Color: Blue
– Hair Color: Blonde
– Height: 5′8″
– Righty or Lefty: Lefty
– Zodiac Sign: Sagitarius
LAYER TWO:
– Your heritage: Irish/English/Scotch/Welsh/French/German/Austrian
The shoes you wore today: black loafers
– Your weakness: good food and men
– Your fears: Being alone and poor
– Your perfect pizza: white clam
– Goal you’d like to achieve: being a good mom
LAYER THREE:
– Your most overused phrase on AIM: I don't use it
– Your first waking thoughts: Can't I just stay here a little longer?
– Your best physical feature: Eyes... but most men would say my chest
– Your most missed memory: Missed as in missed out? Then that would be a good boyfriend
LAYER FOUR:
– Pepsi or Coke: Coke
– McDonald’s or Burger King: McDonalds
– Single or group dates: Single
– Adidas or Nike: Nike
– Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Neither
– Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate
– Cappuccino or coffee: Cappuccino
LAYER FIVE:
– Smoke: No
– Cuss: Of course
– Sing: Practically daily
– Take a shower everyday: Most of the time
– Do you think you’ve been in love:Hmmm... no... I've loved but not been in love.
– Liked high school: I survived it...
–Want to get married: Absolutely
–Believe in yourself: 100%
– Get motion sickness: No
– Think you’re attractive:How vain. But, yes...
– Think you’re a health freak: Uh, no.
– Get along with your parent(s): Very well
– Like thunderstorms: Never really considered it
– Play an instrument: No
LAYER SIX:In the past month…
– Drank alcohol: No
– Smoked: No
– Done a drug: No
– Made Out: Yes
– Gone on a date: Yes
– Gone to the mall?: Yes
– Eaten an entire box of Oreos?: No-never.
– Eaten sushi: Nope
– Been on stage: Nope
– Been dumped: No
– Gone skating: Nope
– Made homemade cookies: Nope
– Gone skinny dipping: Nope
– Dyed your hair: No
– Stolen Anything: Nope
LAYER SEVEN
Ever…
– Played a game that required removal of clothing: Yes
– If so, was it mixed company: Yes
– Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: Yes
– Been caught “doing something": Yes
– Been called a tease: Yes
– Gotten beaten up: No
– Shoplifted: No
– Changed who you were to fit in: I hate to admit it, but yes
LAYER EIGHT:
– Age you hope to be married: 30
– Numbers and Names of Children: Some day I'd like to have between 3 and 5... the names TBD
– Describe your Dream Wedding: How much time do you have?
– How do you want to die: In my sleep
– Where you want to go to college: Been there done that
–What do you want to be when you grow up: That changes from day to day
– What country would you most like to visit: Right now Italy
LAYER NINE:
– Number of drugs taken illegally: 1
– Number of people I could trust with my life: Off the top of my head 4... but probably more
– Number of CDs that I own: 200 or more
– Number of piercings: One in each ear and the remnant scar of a tongue ring
– Number of tattoos: none
– Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper?: Oh... too many times to count
– Number of scars on my body: A few insignificant ones
– Number of things in my past that I regret: Only really one
12:10 am... Kate The Great reporting for duty...
Okay, so I'm not quite "bright-eyed and bushy-tailed" but I feel a whole lot better.
Three sleeping pills, 6 hours of sleep, half a bag of chocolate chips and one shower later, I am decidedly content with my week-long assignment, producing the morning show at our fine, little hell-hole TV station.
And I even look cute, I might add.
I'm sipping on my first of probably 8 or 9 cups of coffee to help me make it through the night. Since I'm not too enthused about arriving at the 'ole ranch (what I affectionately call this little hell-hole) at 11:30 PM, I decided to bring in my own coffee. This is the point where I admit I'm actually a coffee snob and refuse to drink the sludge the Corporation shells out to keep the worker bees busy. So tonight, I'm treating everyone to cinnamon flavored Gevalia coffee straight from Columbia. That tiny country is singlehandedly responsible for keeping both coke (the kind that makes for Hollywood "nose jobs") and coffee addicts tied to their respective crutches.
But I digress.
My earlier post indicated (as Michael aptly commented on) that I was less than happy with how my life is living at this juncture. But today (amidst my dreaming during Dr. Phil) I rationalized that this is just a phase... and that the planets are all probably lined up in some crappy formation that makes Kate the Great live a crappy life. The great thing is that at some point those same damn planets have to orbit a little bit here, and rotate a little bit there, and my crappy phase will be all gone.
At least I hope so.
So my rent's late. It's probably going to be about a month late before it's all said and done. Fortunately my landlord isn't a jerk. He's actually a really great guy and quite forgiving when it comes to girls in their late 20s who are trying to straighten out their lives before they're done growing up.
The greasy hair (did I mention that in my last post?)... well that was taken care of by a fabulous shower (they're always too short this time of year, aren't they?) with that shampoo that helps keep blonde hair (chemically treated or otherwise) looking fab. I blew my hair dry and put in those big velcro rollers to give it some bounce, volume and body.
Yes, I looked just like this.
The "uniform" of my black Gap turtle neck and Long and Lean jeans (Poppy, have you tried them yet?) has changed into a nice pair of red cords and a black V neck. Girls on the Graveyard Shift can look sexy, too.
And I even managed to smear some Amber Glass on my lips before I headed out the door.
I realized that even with as crappy as I feel about my life, it could be a whole lot worse. This time last year, I would lay in my bed every day... hours at a time... thinking there was no reason to live. I was battling a huge bout of depression and even stopped eating for a while (this in itself was a huge sign for my friends that something was afoot).
One year later, I am really happy with my relationship with Christ (now, don't write me off as being overly churchy). I'm also so excited and anxious to get home for Christmas. It's so cliche, I know, but there's nothing better than having your mom tuck you in at night, no matter how old you are. I'm looking forward to visiting with my sisters and having a good time in my hometown. I am so thankful my nuclear family is still in one piece (despite lots of struggles and heartache) and that we all actually talk to each other from time to time.
Sometimes, you've got to take a long hard look at what you're missing to realize just how much you have.
Three sleeping pills, 6 hours of sleep, half a bag of chocolate chips and one shower later, I am decidedly content with my week-long assignment, producing the morning show at our fine, little hell-hole TV station.
And I even look cute, I might add.
I'm sipping on my first of probably 8 or 9 cups of coffee to help me make it through the night. Since I'm not too enthused about arriving at the 'ole ranch (what I affectionately call this little hell-hole) at 11:30 PM, I decided to bring in my own coffee. This is the point where I admit I'm actually a coffee snob and refuse to drink the sludge the Corporation shells out to keep the worker bees busy. So tonight, I'm treating everyone to cinnamon flavored Gevalia coffee straight from Columbia. That tiny country is singlehandedly responsible for keeping both coke (the kind that makes for Hollywood "nose jobs") and coffee addicts tied to their respective crutches.
But I digress.
My earlier post indicated (as Michael aptly commented on) that I was less than happy with how my life is living at this juncture. But today (amidst my dreaming during Dr. Phil) I rationalized that this is just a phase... and that the planets are all probably lined up in some crappy formation that makes Kate the Great live a crappy life. The great thing is that at some point those same damn planets have to orbit a little bit here, and rotate a little bit there, and my crappy phase will be all gone.
At least I hope so.
So my rent's late. It's probably going to be about a month late before it's all said and done. Fortunately my landlord isn't a jerk. He's actually a really great guy and quite forgiving when it comes to girls in their late 20s who are trying to straighten out their lives before they're done growing up.
The greasy hair (did I mention that in my last post?)... well that was taken care of by a fabulous shower (they're always too short this time of year, aren't they?) with that shampoo that helps keep blonde hair (chemically treated or otherwise) looking fab. I blew my hair dry and put in those big velcro rollers to give it some bounce, volume and body.
Yes, I looked just like this.
The "uniform" of my black Gap turtle neck and Long and Lean jeans (Poppy, have you tried them yet?) has changed into a nice pair of red cords and a black V neck. Girls on the Graveyard Shift can look sexy, too.
And I even managed to smear some Amber Glass on my lips before I headed out the door.
I realized that even with as crappy as I feel about my life, it could be a whole lot worse. This time last year, I would lay in my bed every day... hours at a time... thinking there was no reason to live. I was battling a huge bout of depression and even stopped eating for a while (this in itself was a huge sign for my friends that something was afoot).
One year later, I am really happy with my relationship with Christ (now, don't write me off as being overly churchy). I'm also so excited and anxious to get home for Christmas. It's so cliche, I know, but there's nothing better than having your mom tuck you in at night, no matter how old you are. I'm looking forward to visiting with my sisters and having a good time in my hometown. I am so thankful my nuclear family is still in one piece (despite lots of struggles and heartache) and that we all actually talk to each other from time to time.
Sometimes, you've got to take a long hard look at what you're missing to realize just how much you have.
Monday, December 13, 2004
Signs a Major Change Is Overdue:
The balance printout at the ATM says your checking account is 360 dollars in the hole... and you haven't even paid the rent.
Management at work says they want to "ask you a favor... Would you be willing to take on a shift change this next week?"... It's the Graveyard Shift.
You shove the old newspapers, loose batteries, your broken TV remote, an empty popcorn bag and a knitting project (a fuzzy pink scarf with those little, wild loose hairs that pop out to make it look similar to a feather boa or something equally textured) to one side of the bed to make some room for yourself once returning home from said Graveyard Shift.
You have to run out to buy a special battery for your vibrator because you long wore out the old one.
You've worn the same outfit three days in a row and it's starting to develop that "wellworn patina" like fine silver... only it's not as becoming and has a distinct fragrance all its own.
You're still driving around on your spare tire after you got a flat... four weeks ago.
You scoop some chocolate chips out of a bag for breakfast because it a) is conveniently sitting on the floor next to your bed and b) you're too lazy to buy groceries or fix anything else.
Management at work says they want to "ask you a favor... Would you be willing to take on a shift change this next week?"... It's the Graveyard Shift.
You shove the old newspapers, loose batteries, your broken TV remote, an empty popcorn bag and a knitting project (a fuzzy pink scarf with those little, wild loose hairs that pop out to make it look similar to a feather boa or something equally textured) to one side of the bed to make some room for yourself once returning home from said Graveyard Shift.
You have to run out to buy a special battery for your vibrator because you long wore out the old one.
You've worn the same outfit three days in a row and it's starting to develop that "wellworn patina" like fine silver... only it's not as becoming and has a distinct fragrance all its own.
You're still driving around on your spare tire after you got a flat... four weeks ago.
You scoop some chocolate chips out of a bag for breakfast because it a) is conveniently sitting on the floor next to your bed and b) you're too lazy to buy groceries or fix anything else.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
I always knew I was a 60's pin-up queen...
You're a BOMBSHELL.
You're kitten-like and sexy. You don't need
expensive rocks, you're so classy you overpower
your gems. You tend to put glamour before
comfort, but it doesn't take much for you to
look glamourous anyhow.
Men beg for a chance with you, and you can take
your pick because, frankly, you're too good for
almost all of them.
Which female sex symbol are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Friday, December 10, 2004
Midnight Breakfast Brunch
Appetizer
Make up a word and give us its definition.
Insanitize - when a person goes crazy cleaning stuff.
I am guilty of this from time to time (not frequently, thank God.)
Soup
What is currently your favorite song?
My car radio is broken right now so I don't hear tuneage as often as I used to... but right now I'm a big fan of that new Gwen Stefani song with the whole Tic Toc... "Whatcha waitin' for" chorus. It's bubble gum pop and I luuuuuv it.
Salad
What's at the top of your Christmas wish list this year?
Stealing a line from one of my closest friends Mara, "A bag of 20s."
Other than that, I really just want a bottle of RL Romance perfume, a nice dinner with my family, peace on earth and the rest of that crap.
Main Course
Name a scent that reminds you of someone special in your life.
A few fragrances remind my of my mom and dad. English Leather sends me back to my days at Nana and Papa's house (Papa never was on the cutting edge, and that's what made him sooo cool.)
Dessert
Who is someone on television that you feel probably shouldn't be, and why?
How appropriate for the woman who works in local television news. I'll save several of my coworkers from international embarrassment, and I won't even pick on the competition (it wouldn't be smart since the other stations consistently beat us).
I hated that Jillian bimbo who was on Good Day Live, but I really haven't been keeping track of her career, so who knows... she could be handing out Slurpees at a 7-11. I think she greatly insulted the intellectual level of a majority of her viewers, and appealed to the most base level of society.
I also think The Donald shouldn't be on TV while he has that hideous comb-over. Bald is Beautiful, Trump. Embrace it. Love it. Be One with the Baldness.
Make up a word and give us its definition.
Insanitize - when a person goes crazy cleaning stuff.
I am guilty of this from time to time (not frequently, thank God.)
Soup
What is currently your favorite song?
My car radio is broken right now so I don't hear tuneage as often as I used to... but right now I'm a big fan of that new Gwen Stefani song with the whole Tic Toc... "Whatcha waitin' for" chorus. It's bubble gum pop and I luuuuuv it.
Salad
What's at the top of your Christmas wish list this year?
Stealing a line from one of my closest friends Mara, "A bag of 20s."
Other than that, I really just want a bottle of RL Romance perfume, a nice dinner with my family, peace on earth and the rest of that crap.
Main Course
Name a scent that reminds you of someone special in your life.
A few fragrances remind my of my mom and dad. English Leather sends me back to my days at Nana and Papa's house (Papa never was on the cutting edge, and that's what made him sooo cool.)
Dessert
Who is someone on television that you feel probably shouldn't be, and why?
How appropriate for the woman who works in local television news. I'll save several of my coworkers from international embarrassment, and I won't even pick on the competition (it wouldn't be smart since the other stations consistently beat us).
I hated that Jillian bimbo who was on Good Day Live, but I really haven't been keeping track of her career, so who knows... she could be handing out Slurpees at a 7-11. I think she greatly insulted the intellectual level of a majority of her viewers, and appealed to the most base level of society.
I also think The Donald shouldn't be on TV while he has that hideous comb-over. Bald is Beautiful, Trump. Embrace it. Love it. Be One with the Baldness.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Secret Santa
I'm toying with the idea of writing greeting cards. It's certainly something I could take up once my contract expires at the end of February.
My latest idea:
Picture a smartly sketched woman, slender and wearing some type of garish holiday outfit. Maybe a red cat suit or a green sequin dress, with a slit up to *here*. You know where I'm going with this... the kind of gal who puts the ho in Ho Ho Ho. Very Kim Catrall in Sex And The City.
Anyway. She'd have one of those little fuzzy red hats you can buy at the neighborhood Walgreens, the ones that have a white pom-pom at the end... and she'd be dangling a shiny glass ball ornament from the tips of her beautifully manicured nails.
The caption below the sketch would say "Forget the Christmas tree..."
On the inside... it would say...
(Please keep in mind my dirty brain was acting up yesterday)
"I'm the holiday gift every man wants under him."
If I see that on a Maxine card in a year or two... I'll cut your liver out.
Just kidding. Violence is really bad, kids.
***********
I was visiting Cathy's site Domestic Psychology (one of my favorites) when I discovered a link to a huge Secret Santa exchange for bloggers.
I am a sucker for presents (giving and receiving) so I signed up. Basically you make up a wish list at Amazon (click here to see all the cool things I want)... and that list gets sent to someone, who will buy something for you (15 buck limit.) You have to buy someone something, too.
The only question I have of this whole deal is... I'm not sure how I actually receive the item, since I've yet to give anyone my mailing address.
My latest idea:
Picture a smartly sketched woman, slender and wearing some type of garish holiday outfit. Maybe a red cat suit or a green sequin dress, with a slit up to *here*. You know where I'm going with this... the kind of gal who puts the ho in Ho Ho Ho. Very Kim Catrall in Sex And The City.
Anyway. She'd have one of those little fuzzy red hats you can buy at the neighborhood Walgreens, the ones that have a white pom-pom at the end... and she'd be dangling a shiny glass ball ornament from the tips of her beautifully manicured nails.
The caption below the sketch would say "Forget the Christmas tree..."
On the inside... it would say...
(Please keep in mind my dirty brain was acting up yesterday)
"I'm the holiday gift every man wants under him."
If I see that on a Maxine card in a year or two... I'll cut your liver out.
Just kidding. Violence is really bad, kids.
***********
I was visiting Cathy's site Domestic Psychology (one of my favorites) when I discovered a link to a huge Secret Santa exchange for bloggers.
I am a sucker for presents (giving and receiving) so I signed up. Basically you make up a wish list at Amazon (click here to see all the cool things I want)... and that list gets sent to someone, who will buy something for you (15 buck limit.) You have to buy someone something, too.
The only question I have of this whole deal is... I'm not sure how I actually receive the item, since I've yet to give anyone my mailing address.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
The Little Blue Box
Every girl deserves a piece of Tiffany, even if they have to go out and buy it themself.
Tif's the only girl I'd ever pursue, fight over, worship and love.
In honor of a major life accomplishment and my 28th birthday (an accomplishment in itself), I picked up one of those sterling silver bead bracelets. At about a hundred bucks, it's the most affordable thing at the bastion of baubles and luxury jewelry. It doesn't scream "Tiffany", but then that's not my style. I'm more of the classy, understated type (surprising, I know.)
Anyway.
My little blue box came in the mail today, and is solely responsible for the permasmile plastered across my face.
Men, if you're doing your holiday shopping, may I suggest something from this fine retailer? Every woman goes mad for that little blue box.
Thank You, Blogger!
Thank You Thank You Thank You.
Thanks to Steve at Blogger Support for getting My Random Musings back up and running.
He figured out what was putting my posts at the way bottom of the page.
I haven't figured out how to return my fonts to the scrolly ones I had before, but this is a minor concern, to be sure.
Now my cranial ooze has a place once again to come out on.
Thanks to Steve at Blogger Support for getting My Random Musings back up and running.
He figured out what was putting my posts at the way bottom of the page.
I haven't figured out how to return my fonts to the scrolly ones I had before, but this is a minor concern, to be sure.
Now my cranial ooze has a place once again to come out on.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
This is F'ed Up!
For some reason the post about the Price of Happiness keeps knocking all my posts to well below the header...
Any suggestions?
I am so frustrated about this!
Any suggestions?
I am so frustrated about this!
Friday, December 03, 2004
The Price of Happiness
How much would you shell out for bliss?
Five bucks to turn that frown upside down?
100 bucks for a rush of euphoria?
5000 bucks for utter, orgasmic extacy?
'Cause that's the price that's staring me in the face.
I had a job interview two days ago. It was swell as those kinds of things go. I always do really well on interviews, what with an innate sense of overconfidence and the kind of stressful-moment-cool that would make 007 jelous. The guy was actually doing more of a sales pitch on the position than I was doing on myself. Let's face it, I'm wonderful, and the man would be crazy not to hire me, right?
Okay... lemme press the OFF button on my UberEgo.
Anyway. As I was saying. This guy started our meeting off with the bad news: "HR is tying my hands on the salary. We can only pay you $piddlysalary.00 (he says as he lowers his head in consolation.) Since this is a new position for our department, they had to compare it to something else within our system. Turns out there's a person doing a similar type job for Section Z... and they've been working for 15 years at $piddlysalary.00."
This was the point in our discussion where I fought to conceal my big swallow. You know... that instant reflex in your throat that comes when you're shocked and trying to digest the blow?
"I've had 43 applicants for this job. Harvard grads. Adjunct professors. I really want to pay this position $dreamycash.00, but the Corporation won't let me. I know that the only person we're gonna get in here... at least with any experience... has to be working at a miserable place."
Brother, now you-a talkin' my language.
There are some pluses for this gig:
-It's actually a job at my Alma Mater, so I'd be very familiar with the place.
-I'd get to take free classes (up to six credit hours per semester.) Hello, free MBA.
-There would be some travel involved (up first on the itinerary, Sunny San Francisco)
-I'd be getting some valuable Marketing/PR experience to round out my skills.
-The man told me the position could at some point be reassessed to make for a better salary.
-It's hard to get into their system. Once you're in... you can be pretty mobile and move around from department to department for the right spot.
Since I pretty much detest where I work, and since I've spent almost 6 years toiling it out here, a move is definitely on the horizon. My contract here is up at the end of February, so I have a limited time frame to find a job.
This possibility is a way to keep a constant flow of cash... but at a diminished rate. That kind of scares me (I'm HORRIBLE with money) but as my dad said, this could be one immediate step back, but may make for two steps ahead in the future.
Something to chew on.
Five bucks to turn that frown upside down?
100 bucks for a rush of euphoria?
5000 bucks for utter, orgasmic extacy?
'Cause that's the price that's staring me in the face.
I had a job interview two days ago. It was swell as those kinds of things go. I always do really well on interviews, what with an innate sense of overconfidence and the kind of stressful-moment-cool that would make 007 jelous. The guy was actually doing more of a sales pitch on the position than I was doing on myself. Let's face it, I'm wonderful, and the man would be crazy not to hire me, right?
Okay... lemme press the OFF button on my UberEgo.
Anyway. As I was saying. This guy started our meeting off with the bad news: "HR is tying my hands on the salary. We can only pay you $piddlysalary.00 (he says as he lowers his head in consolation.) Since this is a new position for our department, they had to compare it to something else within our system. Turns out there's a person doing a similar type job for Section Z... and they've been working for 15 years at $piddlysalary.00."
This was the point in our discussion where I fought to conceal my big swallow. You know... that instant reflex in your throat that comes when you're shocked and trying to digest the blow?
"I've had 43 applicants for this job. Harvard grads. Adjunct professors. I really want to pay this position $dreamycash.00, but the Corporation won't let me. I know that the only person we're gonna get in here... at least with any experience... has to be working at a miserable place."
Brother, now you-a talkin' my language.
There are some pluses for this gig:
-It's actually a job at my Alma Mater, so I'd be very familiar with the place.
-I'd get to take free classes (up to six credit hours per semester.) Hello, free MBA.
-There would be some travel involved (up first on the itinerary, Sunny San Francisco)
-I'd be getting some valuable Marketing/PR experience to round out my skills.
-The man told me the position could at some point be reassessed to make for a better salary.
-It's hard to get into their system. Once you're in... you can be pretty mobile and move around from department to department for the right spot.
Since I pretty much detest where I work, and since I've spent almost 6 years toiling it out here, a move is definitely on the horizon. My contract here is up at the end of February, so I have a limited time frame to find a job.
This possibility is a way to keep a constant flow of cash... but at a diminished rate. That kind of scares me (I'm HORRIBLE with money) but as my dad said, this could be one immediate step back, but may make for two steps ahead in the future.
Something to chew on.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
What's Your Favorite Age?
I'm only a couple hours into 28. So far, so good. I've had donuts, flowers, hugs and songs. Even my bosses are easing up on riding my a** today (although that could change at a moment's notice.)
28 is good.
Up until today, 27 had been my favorite age. A year ripe with heartache and hard lessons, it was an age that really helped steer me in the direction I know with which I'll be most happy. 27 was one of those make-it-or-break-it years for me, and I am proud to say I made it.
I hated 26. I hated 22. I hated 16. But I moved on from all my toils and troubles and now can bask in the glory of being decidedly late 20s.
Late 20s.
I don't know how I feel about that. It's a phrase that echoes like the slamming of a big door on the vault of my childhood. My dad sent me an e-mail just today saying 28 means I'm still a kid... that I really don't have to be a "full fledged" grown-up until I hit 35 or so (tell that to my boss and landlord, Dad!) But in my book, 28 is chock full of responsibilities.
And I'm okay with that.
In itself, another sign of maturity.
SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?
Are you 28 yet? What's that age like for you? When's your favorite age? Do you look forward to a year ahead (I think the collective 30s sound delicious)? Do you reminisce on a particular phase of "way-back-when?"
I'd love to hear about it ;)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)