Friday, June 29, 2007
Forbes ranked Cincinnati 18th in the country in a comparison for the best cities for young professionals to call home.
The Cincinnati Business Courier says the rankings are based on affordability, income, number of never-married single people and the number of big and small businesses.
That's five spots better than Columbus, eight spots better than Cleveland.
Here's a look at the top ten:
2) San Fran
Tampa took lost place.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
We made it back from Ikea and I was dying of exhaustion. Who knew the pregnant-couple-with-the-baby-on-the-way could tire out the Swingin' Single?
When I considered how much time it would take for me to beautify and primp and preen for our evening out - I realized I had like 15 minutes to take a nap.
After the briefest of power naps and a shower and quick change, we hopped in the hoopty (okay, my sister doesn't actually drive a hoopty, but I thought it made the story better) destination: Buckhead.
We cruised by Puffy's restaurant and Jermaine Dupri's restaurant and Emeril's restaurant and went to a dining spot literally on the Buckhead/Midtown line. Taurus (25th and Peachtree) was voted Best New Restaurant in Atlanta in 2006 and is the latest culinary creation of chef Gary Mennie. He is the chef behind four-star rated Canoe, one of Atlanta's hottest restaurants.
Taurus is glam. glam. glam. You enter a door and are greeted by a hostess in a sort of three story alcove. Beside the hostess stand are two elevators ready to whisk you to the actual restaurant in the floors above.
Once you're allowed passage on the elevator you arrive to a floor that pulsates with a Vegas, rat pack vibe. Massive red velvet lounge seats are arranged in a circle below a round, cascading light fixture that practically takes up the whole ceiling.
A long, marble bar lines a wall to the side and a spacious al fresco seating area wraps around the outside, complete with intimate dining tables and lounging areas spotted with comfy, cushioned chairs.
We sat down and our waiter was instantly attentive. I could tell this guy doesn't just serve food. He eats food and he cooks food. Our waiter carefully described each dish and the variety of flavorful ingredients used in them. After I wiped the drool from my mouth, I settled on a young arugula salad with candied pecans and citrus dressing and a charred flatiron steak and garlic mashed potatoes.
The salad was amazing. The dressing was just light enough to offer a hint of sunny, citrus flavor. The arugula was beefy and fresh and the scattered pecans had just enough carmelized sugar on them - I didn't feel like I was eating candy with my salad. The beef was just as impressive. A medium temperature offered up the most lovely pink meat that my knife cut through so smoothly. The steak was served atop a bed of patiently beaten potatoes with just a faint flavor of garlic.
Bridge was served seared Maine scallops that were about the size of Kennedy half-dollars. The scallops came with the most sophisticated of Southern citrus grits and tomatoes in a vinaigrette.
Scuba ordered the daily special - an oak roasted pork rack and marscapone polenta drizzled with sweet onion marmalade. I didn't manage to snag a bite of this dish, but the meat was just about as big as the oven mitt worn by the chef manning the kitchen.
For dessert the three of us shared a lavender shortcake topped with organic strawberries (the flavors burst in my mouth) and sweet cream.
After we rolled out of the restaurant - we headed to the Whole World Improv Theatre on Spring Street.
This place is an in-person version of that show Who's Line Is It, Anyway. The performers act out a variety of scripts based on audience suggestions. The stage emcee is a bit of a diva and consistently berated the audience for coming up with sub par offerings (the audience suggestions tended to relate to things of a sexual or depraved nature. Unfortunately the establishment did not offer any prior guidelines that these topics are not acceptable).
Aside from the consistent criticism from the emcee (hey, dude. Sometimes sex can be pretty funny. Sorry y'all get the same five suggestions every night), the performance was quite delightful and at times downright hilarious. The performers at Whole World are definitely on their way to things bigger and better.
We fought off exhaustion with just enough time to make it back to Duluth safely.
All good things must come to an end, and so, too, my trip to the A-T-L.
My brother-in-law treated Bridge and me to a heaping pile of chocolate chip pancakes while we sat around and bitched about the crazy women featured on We's Bridezilla. After enough lounging (maybe it was 3 o'clock or so?) we decided to rally for my big drive north. Scuba and Bridge and I piled in our respective cars and headed to a Mexican restaurant on Peachtree Industrial for a final bite before I left. After I had my fill of rice and refried beans, we took some pics (I've promised I wouldn't post any of the bare, baby bump) and said our goodbyes.
This is where I admit I am such an emotional sap.
I cried as I drove away from Bridge and Scuba and the baby yet to be. I cried as I had to say goodbye to our weekend of fun and family time. I cried as I had to part with this little family bursting with new chapters to celebrate and enjoy.
And that's when I got the new appreciation for life I mentioned earlier - A new appreciation for what's to come for everyone.
Well, I guess this one slipped through the cracks.
Today, the doctor revealed that Bridge is actually having a GIRL in October!
So goodbye (for now) Liam Michael.
Hello, Maeve Elizabeth.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
I hit i-75 southbound at 8 am. The radio gave me a heads up I was in the Bluegrass when I heard in succession while flipping through the radio A) John Michael Montgomery and B) the beef futures.
Everything was smooth sailing until a massive tanker decided to have a run-in with a UPS tractor trailer. I called a media connection in Lexington and was told the interstate was closing for at least 10 hours (actually 18). Fortunately for me I saw a traffic sign on I-75 and managed to take a detour.
A two-hour, 16-mile detour that traveled through the sweet town of Berea Kentucky.
So far, this trip was anything but smooth.
After a quick bathroom and drink break, I continued smoothly through Knoxville (thought about y'all - Southern Son and D-Money) and the Nooga and I was pretty much whistlin' Dixie when I crossed the Georgia state line.
The convoy of cars convened on 285 East towards Greenville and I hit a pretty nice traffic jam through Buckhead all the way to Peachtree Industrial.
But patience persevered and I grooved along to one of Atlanta's many hip-hop stations before arriving at Bridge and Scuba's house, who practically greeted at the door with a beer.
I was so surprised to see my sister and her baby bump. This is the same little girl with whom I played Barbie dolls when we were growing up. The same sister who would stay up late with me and fantasize about who she'd marry. What kind of family she'd raise.
And now that family is well on its way.
Bridge and Scuba prepared a wonderful meal - a delicious shrimp salad roll with the most tender, baby shrimp, corn on the cob, an incredible pitcher of homemade mojitos and s'mores for dessert.
Are we hungry yet?
We stayed up late, giggling about past relationships, our wacky family, and hopes and dreams for the future. Bridge and I both fought back that phenomenon of heavy eyelids and decided it was time to rest and get ready to conquer another day.
Bridge battled pregnancy's queasy morning greeting to whip up Paula Deen's great blueberry crumble coffee cake. After some visiting we washed our hair and slapped on the pancake (well, Scuba doesn't wear make up because he's a dude) for an outing to the Big City.
Atlantic Station was our first destination. It's an interesting, mixed-use concept of parking garages, shopping and living space, quite like what developers want to do with Cincinnati's Banks project. We meandered through a street fair there (I scored the most amazing mother-of-pearl and red coral necklace for 20 bucks) before heading to Rosa Mexicano for a bite.
Rosa Mexicano isn't your average, hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint. It's super trendy with a cascading waterfall wall featuring tiny sculptures of angels diving vertically to an imaginary pool below. Each chair is made of sturdy crimson seat belts and the tables are draped in stark white tablecloths.
Rosa Mexicano serves up an uber-sophisticated version of food from South of the Border and is said to have Atlanta's best guacamole. As freshness goes, I'd agree, but my dining party agreed we could make something just as wholesome with more depth of flavor at home. The dip is prepared table side on a rolling cart and served in a lava rock mortar. At 12 bucks a pop, it's pricey, but it's a bit ceremonial and worth the experience.
We moved on to stop #2 - Ikea, and I instantly discovered why folks in Cincinnati are anxious for our own outpost to open.
Ikea virgins, I don't know if I can express my delight and awe for this incredible store. This home furnishing mecca showcases how to make the space in your home work for you. You can buy a 16 piece cutlery set for three dollars (yes, three dollars) or wooden side table for 13 bucks. The products aren't necessarily shoddy, it just depends on how minimalist you want your furnishings etc.
I made it out with a dish scrubber, travel coffee mug and tube of delicious lemon cookies for about four bucks.
Ahead... Saturday night.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Q. What is your salad dressing of choice?
A. Balsamic vin and olive oil
Q. What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
A. I don't eat fast food - Subway
Q. What is your favorite sit-down restaurant?
A. Hmmmm. That's a toughie. Too many places to pick. Greenup Cafe is close to the top though.
Q. On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
A. at least 20%
Q. What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick off of?
Q. What are your pizza toppings of choice?
A. Usually something of the veggie variety
Q. What do you like to put on your toast?
A. rasberry jam
Q. What is your favorite type of gum?
A. The whitening kind
Q. Number of contacts in your cell phone?
Q. Number of contacts in your email address book?
Q. What is your wallpaper on your computer?
A. A pic of me in London with a glowing *30* street sign above my head. I am so vain.
Q. How many televisions are in your house?
Q. Are you right-handed or left-handed?
Q. What’s your best feature?
A. I am going to avoid the obvious and go with my bigger than life personality and my lips
Q. Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
A. In a surgical way, no.
Q. Which of your five senses do you think is keenest?
A. I suppose my sense of taste?
Q. When was the last time you had a cavity?
A. i can't remember
Q. What is the heaviest item you lifted last?
A.I helped my brother-in-law move a dresser yesterday
Q. Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
A. Briefly while trying to jump a horse
Q. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
A. No. I want to live for today, not tomorrow.
Q. Is love for real?
A. Absolutely and the best is yet to come.
Q. If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
A. Hmm. Mia Wallace?
Q. What color do you think looks best on you?
A. Blue or red. I also love my black.
Q. Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
A. No comment.
Q. Have you ever saved someone’s life?
Q. Has someone ever saved yours?
A. In an emotional way absolutely.
Q. Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000?
Q. Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
Q. Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000
A. I don't know. I use them to type pretty frequently
Q. Would you never blog again for $50,000?
A. That would be real hard...
Q. Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
A. As Double Platinum likes to say, "It's just the human body..."
Q. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
Q. Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?
A. Absolutely not.
Q. Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000?
A. I don't watch that much tv... so probably so.
Q: What is in your left pocket
A. Uh, nothing.
Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
A: Wood. Ha ha. I said wood.
Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
A: Umm, what kind of freak show sits in the shower?
Q: Could you live with roommates?
A: It depends. There would be a screening and application process. And of course then we'd have an extensive physical challenge segment...
Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
A: 2? 3?
Q: Where were you born?
A: Charlotte, NC
Q: Last time you had a run-in with the cops?
A: Oh, maybe a year ago...
Q: What do you want to be when you grow up?
A: A kept woman
Q: Who is number 1 on your top 8
Q: Friend you talked to?
A: Double Platinum
Q: Last person you called?
Q: Person you hugged?
A: My brother-in-law
Q: Person you kissed?
A: my brother-in-law
Q: Missing someone?
A: My ATL kin
A: A bit tired but otherwise swell
Q: Listening to?
A: ambient newsroom news including scanner chat
A. The cursor move across the monitor
Q: Worrying about?
A: Nothing... Life is good and I am happy.
Q: First place you went this morning?
Q: What can you not wait to do?
A: Go to sleep
Q: What’s the last movie you saw?
A: Man of the Year
Q: Do you smile often?
A: quite a bit actually
Q: Are you a friendly person?
A: of course
Q: Now that the survey's done what are you going to do?
A: The stocks for Double Platinum then go home
Let others know a little more about yourself, repost this as your name followed by “ology.”
Four bathroom breaks.
One stop at an outlet mall.
Two gas fill-ups.
One tall, non-fat, sugar free vanilla latte from Starbucks.
Four traffic jams (including one two-hour stretch to go 16 miles).
One run-in with a cop avoided.
Hours of non-stop fun singing along to Supertramp and Lisa Loeb.
Three meals out (including one amazing restaurant).
One pitcher of mojitos and one pitcher of sangria.
An outing to an improv comedy club.
Quality time watching Bridezilla.
One amazing hour in Ikea.
A beautiful, handcrafted necklace at a street fair.
And a chance to see my amazing sister, b-i-l and baby-in-progress.
So much to say about the sojourn to Hot-lanta. I'll try to de-brief after work today but I am in rough shape and may need a nappy-nap.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
I think I've talked about the Bacchanalian Society before. Picture it: A thousand people, 600 bottles of wine, a bit of food and a lot of fun.
The wine throws so freely that even one of the volunteer hosts passed out.
Luckily I was a bit more in control of my faculties.
We moved on to the afterparty at J. Hall after the event, and it appeared the crowd followed us. Mingling among the beautiful people was one handsome man whom I was fairly certain I knew.
I didn't think much of it though, this person after all, was Kentucky Royalty. A former baller who didn't lead the team in free throws or dunks, but had enough time on the pine to make a name for himself.
But what would this wayward Wildcat be doing so far from the celebrity and fame in Lexington?
I didn't give it much thought until my friends and I passed this character a couple other times.
Finally I got the up the gumption and asked him.
As soon as I opened my mouth, his friends shook their heads at the sky as if to say, Oh no. Here we go again.
And the tall, rusty brown haired man in the white, button-down shirt confirmed that yes, he was in fact A.B. Klevins*.
We exchanged pleasantries Hello, I'm Kate So-and-So, Class of 99. Oh, it's so nice to see you this close to the Mason - Dixon line. blah blah blah.
My friends and I moved on and headed out to the back patio before we meandered towards the dance floor. That's when A.P. came over and asked if my friends and I would be interested in heading his friends' direction to talk to them.
I said maybe and danced a little more before I approached my friends.
Yeah, I was a little bit excited.
We walked that way and I asked A.B. how he felt about being recognized in Cincinnati, considering it's not Lexington and all (I realize now how insulting that sounds). I asked him what he's up to (working at P & G and considering getting his MBA) and where he lives (with a roommate in Ft. Wright). We talked about how much we both miss Ramsey's and he mentioned that he'd never been to the Montgomery Inn before. I told him it was great and that's when he turned to my friends (who had long dropped out of the convo and started talking amongst themselves) to ask if they've ever been.
The scene pretty much was like how a record would sound if you could still hear it playing after you pulled the cord out of the outlet.
Oh. So that's what this was all about.
A.B. wanted to talk to my friends.
And herein lies my complaint: Why did he approach me on the dance floor if he wanted to talk to my friends? Why didn't he have the cojones to chat with them directly? I suppose some of Kentucky's greatest athletes fail to learn the skills of artful conversation when they're busy studying tactics on the hardwood. And I suppose UK's basketball alums get complacent and used to being pursued by a bevy of women.
They never actually learn how to pursue a woman on their own because they're so busy beating them off with a stick.
Oh, poor A.B. He doesn't realize he's now a little fish in a big pond.
It's pretty sad, actually.
*The name is changed for obvious reasons, but any true Wildcat fan will know who I'm talking about. KtG
William's You Tube channel has quickly become the fourth most subscribed to on the web.
On the surface, he seems like an unlikely source for smart fashion advice. He is, after all, a manager at the Gap in Paducah, Kentucky.
But what William delivers is brashy, sassy fashion sense with an outer than out gay attitude. Flamboyant really doesn't do enough justice for William. He is passionate, open and honest about what works and what doesn't.
I've written him to see what works and what doesn't for a girl with a curvy frame. We'll see if my favorite fashionista writes back.
William's been mentioned on The View and Leno and word is he has a deal in the works with NBC.
Kudos to the Kentucky boy, indeed.
Monday, June 18, 2007
At least, that's how my brain operates at work.
But if I could give a song to every story - no doubt I'd be able to remember every damn murder, sex crime or robbery we report.
I've talked about it before. My history is a mental catalog of music videos.
This past weekend I remembered one of my crushes, courtesy of the passionate and embattled James and his little ditty called Laid.
There was a time when my sister and I both had a crush on the next door neighbor. James and I were classmates in high school way back in the mid 1990s. James was a guy cool enough to be embraced by the popular crowd but classy and smart enough to be kind to everyone.
He played football (though I don't think he was really stellar on the gridiron). He drove a sweet, white Mustang - you know - the redesign that came out when Mustangs became cool again. James was in my French, AP History and Honors English classes. I think maybe we had some math classes together, too.
Bridge and I would get the binoculars and peer through the trees whenever James had a party. We'd crack open the window and strain to listen for any telling noise - a cool song, a celebratory whoop. With eyes squinted, we'd strain to see who got invited to the bash.... always with the lights off so no one would catch us watching.
Out of the two of us - Bridge was the cute one. She was a cheerleader and a bit leaner than I was, and James would always flirt with her. It drove me crazy - watching James flatter my younger sister. I'd get her back by bumming rides with him to the SATs and other places.
Whenever Bridge and I heard Laid, we'd sing it and smile, knowing our shared secret crush. We certainly were never the neighbors who complained about the noises above, beside or near... especially where James was concerned.
Good ol' James.
To be young again. I'd definitely have more confidence... strutting through the halls with my head held high.
Gosh, I was such a dork back then.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
It's her tongue-in-cheek memoir of living with a disease that can taint virtually every cell in your body.
It's a simple, six letter word but carries with it the same powerful anguish that's unleashed by hurricanes, tornadoes and floods.
A physical phenomenon that ravages a body and devastates a family.
A battle over a single body that surgeons, internists, oncologists and the like suit up to fight.
A grim whisper that can change the emotional landscape of a loved one's heart.
I'm really lucky. No one in my family, immediate or otherwise, has died of the wretched disease. We've struggled with heart disease. We've battled alcoholism. We've beaten brain tumors, but we haven't had to tangle with that trespasser called cancer.
But lately the disease has weighed heavily on my heart. My mother had her thyroid removed Monday after doctors grew concerned over inconclusive test results. The gland got sent off for more analysis and we were to have the results yesterday.
But that wasn't the case.
I called home to check up on Mom and she sounded crushed and desperate. I could only imagine the tense anguish that comes with waiting for results that very well could shatter a person's future.
I calmed her down, playing up a scenario involving some lazy hospital hack not getting the job done on time, but anxiety rushed through my veins the minute I hung up the phone.
Last night I sat on my front porch, tears streaming down my face. I subjected myself to the painful thought of a Christmas without a perfectly roasted turkey and the candles in the window. A future without a grandmother for my children. The challenge of weathering the rest of womanhood without the one person I trust to hold my hand along the way.
It was like pushing pins into my skin - forcing myself to feel the pain while bracing for something worse.
There's so much I need to learn about life, adulthood, womanhood, motherhood. And I just can't stand the idea of going down that road without my mother.
Thankfully we were blessed with a negative test result.
The verdict came in this morning.
I am so grateful. I know full well that these past few days of terror and concern are a dim comparison to the actual torment others experience while fighting cancer.
And now, we are stronger - and ready for the next challenge.
The American Cancer Society hosts its annual 24 hour Relay for Life event at Shea Stadium in Norwood. The event kicks off at 6 pm tomorrow night and wraps up at noon Saturday. Come out and walk a lap or two and light a luminaria to honor your favorite cancer fighter. I'll be there for the duration and am looking forward to the 3 am karaoke competition.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
There's something romantic about World War II, the polka dots and cars as big as whales.
Here's a great group to help take you back in time.
The Puppini Sisters have such a tight harmony - it's stunning. This is a cover of Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights. Unfortunately I couldn't find a quality version of their I Will Survive cover.
Here's a nice, long post to catch you up.
A girl can get a bit unnerved when seeing her mother hooked up to oxygen tubes and IV drips.
I prepared myself the whole way to the hospital. This is a simple procedure. She's only staying there one night. The incision will heal in no time. Unfortunately every tune on the radio was full of Emo melodrama (that speaks volumes about the kind of music I listen to, doesn't it?) Even my Girl Power Sheryl Crow rock got me a bit misty as I drove over to Good Sam.
My mother was undergoing a regularly scheduled surgical procedure. Nothing glamorous here - just a thyroid removal after some tests came back inconclusive. A while back my mother was diagnosed with Graves' Disease. Her doctor did some tests to see if any cancer was present and they didn't have a definitive answer. Surgery was the best option, so Mom went under the knife yesterday.
Doctors were able to save three of the parathyroid glands, so that will help my mom in the future as she tries to regulate her hormone levels. The doc wants to do a biopsy of parts of the thyroid to get a final answer on the cancer situation - and the good news is he says there's an 80 percent chance everything is healthy.
So right now we're really positive and looking forward to my mother's long, healthy life.
Here's a nice, silly thing we were joking about in the hospital room yesterday:
My dad had a dream involving his father the night before Mom's surgery. Papa had one of the most generous hearts I've ever been blessed to know. He'd give you the shirt on his back or the last five bucks in his wallet to help you out. Well, yesterday was not only Surgery Day - it would have been my Papa's 90th birthday. In the dream, my papa told Dad he wanted to give my mom his birthday gift - the birthday gift was that my mom would get to live to 90 instead.
I teased my mom that I didn't know if I could deal with her for another 32 years. Obviously it was a joke. Tears well up in my eyelids at the thought of a world without my mother.
There's something wrong when a taken man is overly generous with compliments for a single woman.
That's the consensus among the voices in my head after an outing to two parties this weekend.
The events were lovely and I had a great time getting to meet a bunch of new people and seeing some stunning homes. Unfortunately I was introduced to the reality that married men like to flirt and perhaps even pursue single girls.
The first scenario wasn't as startling as the first. I went to a progressive dinner with Bluegrass Brit. At the third house - a practically married man (whom I had never met before) came up to me and whispered, "You look really beautiful tonight."
That's all I could say, right? Considering this man lives with a woman whom he's been dating for a very, very long time. And what's with a taken stranger (and host of the party) complimenting a single girl? It would be one thing if GOP Big Wig's husband or Big Blue Blood's serious boyfriend paid me a compliment about my appearance - these men are friends and in no way would their kind words be interpreted as a come on.
But an unfamiliar man in a serious relationship - the whole thing is hooey in my book.
Party #2 - wouldn't you know it - the same damn thing happened.
We were walking up this steep staircase to the top of a hill in Covington. The home clung to the hill and had a spectacular view of the Cincinnati skyline. We were approaching this amazing front deck when a man dressed as Spicoli (oh, I forgot to tell you this party was an 80s Prom theme party, didn't I?) brushed by me and said, "Gosh, you're cute."
We progressed up the stairs and this same, bleach blond wigged man said to his friend, "Really. That girl couldn't be cuter."
What a way to make a chick feel good. Compliments from two men in one night. Immediately, I knew this night was going to make the blog. Unfortunately I had no idea how rapidly the story would change.
Pleasantries exchanged, drinks poured and I felt quite welcome by the people dressed in ruffled taffeta and bolero jackets.
Spicoli came back and he and I took to a bench along the deck's edge. A third time he said, "Really. You couldn't be any cuter."
I was beginning to wonder whether this guy was a wind-up doll who only had one line.
Spicoli and I chatted quite well. I asked to see what was under the wig and remarked that I thought he looked cuter without the Malibu Barbie hairstyle. We talked about our respective origins (his Kentucky-born-and-raised to my checkered rearing east of the Mississippi) and where I went to college. When he remarked that I was a Wildcat, I saucily replied that I was - in more than one respect.
That's when the angry lady came up to us.
She stomped over in a huffy in her red, ruffled prom dress. She tersely asked "Where are the keys?" and he casually responded about their whereabouts being near some guitar. The angry lady seemed like some drunk and unhappy friend, considering that's how this flirty man responded to her inquiry.
Spicoli kept chatting until he said he had to check on something - but that he'd be back in a moment.
He never came back.
Instead, he stared at me from a distant spot on the wrap-around deck.
I was totally bewildered. I really thought things were going well (what with all my cuteness, and all) and had no idea what would motivate his instant distance.
That's when I asked Bluegrass Brit about him.
Her reply: "Oh. Didn't he tell you he was married?"
He wasn't wearing a ring. Not once did he drop a "My wife..." From where I sat, he intentionally concealed his less-than-singleness.
Bluegrass Brit later told me she said there was talk these people were swingers - an arrangement of which I'll not get tangled up.
As if it's not bad enough for a single girl out there. Now I gotta worry about the married men and the swingers?
I hereby propose that every woman insists her husband gets a ring tattooed on his finger immediately after vows are exchanged.
That'll take care of that.
I don't know if you ever get a chance to watch Local 12's Good Morning Cincinnati (damn, what a great newscast). If you haven't checked it out this week - give it a look. Mr. Bob Herzog is filling in on the anchor desk this week. Regular anchor John Lomax offers some big shoes to fill, but Herzog is just the right guy to step in for vacation relief.
Herzog is known for his daily dose of humor on The Cooler, and it turns out this guy has a serious side, too. I suppose that can be expected considering Bob has a law degree from Chase.
Who knew Mister Funny Guy was such a smarty pants??
Keep up the good work, Bob.
Your fans are watching.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Thursday, June 07, 2007
So many people are incensed by the the way this non-celebrity has become famous.
Paris Hilton can't act. She can't sing. She can't write. Paris likely can't even apply her own make up.
This woman has no talent worthy of global celebrity, and so that's why I'm applying to replace her.
I can write. Take a look at the blog - you'll notice I can manipulate the English language from time to time.
Believe it or not, I can sing, too. I almost majored in Voice in college and I still love to test out my pipes at the local karaoke watering hole.
I like to make jewelry. I've got a couple necklaces made from beads I've collected on my travels around the globe - and never fail - someone asks me if I make jewelry for a living when I wear them.
And I can cook, too. I make a mean pie crust (from scratch) and I love love love to make cakes. I know my way around a saute pan, too, and you'll just have to trust me when I say that my Chicken Pot Pie is the best you'll ever have.
I am certain I have more talent to offer this globe than Paris Hilton, and that's why I'm applying for the job Celebrity.
*The research constitutes of how many people voted on a local news poll on Paris Hilton. More than 1600 people had voted on their pleasure/displeasure by 4:15 pm. It's a poll that normally sees 700 votes by the same time period.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
I don't think you could call me an Earth Mama (I still love to drive my car and I am horribly wasteful when it comes to leaving my lights on) but I am trying to make changes where I can.
Natural deodorant is my latest foray into the environmental initiative.
It's a lemon smelling scent made with a natural glycerin related substance, water, aloe vera, witch hazel, hops and other organic material.
The deodorant cost five bucks but I suppose it's a small investment in saving the Earth.
I'm about three days in, and I am fairly certain I don't stink (Double Platinum would have totally launched a rubberband at me if I did). Tom's deodorant doesn't include an antiperspirant so sometimes I feel like I'm glistening, but I don't know that you could call me a Sweaty Beast.
the deodorant stings a little bit every time I put it on (especially after shaving) but the sensation sort of disappears after a while.
Hmm. The jury's still out.
At 13 acres, my environmental footprint is taking a toll on the environment. How's yours?
Monday, June 04, 2007
I know you must be having a rough day. I remember my first night in jail, so many years ago. I woke up and found a packed lunch with a bologna sandwich, carton of milk and some Oreo cookies. Not what a girl living the Ghetto Fabulous life is accustomed to, right?
I, fortunately, only had to spend one night in the Drunk Tank. That was enough to rattle me to responsibility. Unfortunately you've got a little bit more time to serve in the county lock-up. Those orange jump suits can be a bit unbecoming for a gal with your coloring, don't you think?
Well, my day certainly isn't as bad as yours, I'll admit. But I've had to weather a couple hiccups of my own today. First, I discovered this afternoon that my underwear's inside-out. If that isn't an omen, than I don't know what is, honey. On top of that - I'm trying to do the Green thing and use natural deodorant. I love Tom and he makes a good toothpaste but I don't know if those Mainahs have cornahed the mahket on deodorant while they'ah pahkin' the cah' in Havahd Yahd.
Do you get what I'm saying, Paris? The natural aluminum-free deodorant isn't really working at 100 percent yet. At least it's not a sweltering 90 degrees today.
So much to look forward to.
Another bummer: I am trying to brace my body for performance in regular soccer games. On second thought, I don't know that I should call this a bummer more than it is a fear. A team will depend on my athletic prowess (or lack thereof) on a regular basis.
I can't remember the last time I did crack, but it most certainly must have been when I offered to particpate in such a physical endeavor.
My good friend Bluegrass Brit is on said soccer team and she convinced me to participate.
I am certain I will die of embarrasment or exhaustion (or both) during the first game, scheduled for June 13th.
Paris, I imagine you won't be getting much physical activity in while you're behind bars, considering the county is giving you one whole hour to shower, exercise and spend some time outside.
That totally puts a kink in those epic showers I imagine you like.
Kate the Great