I posted this on the blog exactly four years ago.
Some of it is completely random... but I really like the pith at the end. A message that endures no matter the year or age.
Sometimes I really hate my big boobs. They are like a catch-all for everything that makes its way into my mouth. Case in point: I spend less than 24 hours in a different television market and take along three shirts for the trip. Two of them come back to Cincinnati with ketchup on them. Both stains acquired during different meals. Thank God for stain stick and other tricks.
God, can I tell you how much I miss Lexington? Don't get me wrong - I am having a blast in Cincinnati and probably wouldn't want to live anywhere else in my life right now. But there's something about a town where basically everybody is cheering for the same team (Go Big Blue!). I'm also a big fan of all the running, white fences everywhere and the subtle genteel manner of the Bluegrass. God, I haven't been down there since April...
I guess Northern Kentucky's a pretty good compromise. (P.S. Wildcat Fans: This piece on You Tube makes me cry. 'Cause I Bleed Blue!)
My stomach is telling me I should go on a hunger strike. The hostess of Saturday night's fete really outdid herself. The morning trip for biscuits and gravy at Bob Evans was one meal I should have skipped, what with a night full of food and drink... though I don't know about those Black and Blue shots (ps. When I was looking for the recipe I found a couple others I'd like to try. Bin Laden? Bitches From Hell? Where do people make this shit up?
I hate it when my insecurities bitch slap the confidence right out of me. Sometimes I have a tough time telling those voices in my head to shut the F up, and instead all those little worries gnaw at me until I am completely turned around inside out. Doubt is such a dangerous, self destructive weapon. I am temporarily fixated with a worry that really doesn't exist (could I be any more cryptic?) and need to just put it out of my head.
As Stuart Smalley says: I deserve good things. I am entitled to my share of happiness. I refuse to beat myself up. I am attractive person. I am fun to be with. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me!
Oh, Lord. How pathetic am I? Time to go read the paper...
Kate's Random Musings by Kate the Great is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.