True Story

Cross-posted everywhere, because I can't sit still and this is the longest morning ever.

Fuck yeah, Horoscopes

Now that Saturn is out of your true love sector for the first time since September 2007, you truly have a sensational outlook for finding the emotional closeness that you've been seeking for a long time.

With Venus, your ruler, in perfect angle to Neptune, you may also be swept away with sentimental thoughts. If you are dating (or even if you are not), a romantic moment that happens in November could thrill you. You are ready to chart a new direction, so there's no more reason to hang back.

With Venus gliding through your relationship house November 7-30, creating a tender "full moon" effect, your relationship should feel especially sweet this month. One outstanding, four-star day for love to mix perfectly with friendship will be November 14 - plan a party or a big dinner with many friends.


WORD UP, UNIVERSE. I am ready.

Happy Halloween...

..from Miss Piggy.





And just because it's the best crossover ever:

Meanwhile, Sarah Rose drops some knowledge

So as you can see by my previous entry, things are clicking away nicely for me and The Scotsman, as I've decided to call him here.

I'm one part giddy excited blushing school girl one part trying too hard to be practical. The situation is complicated, to say the least, and I'm trying to keep an even head on my shoulders...mostly for his sake.

Just when I was having an "Oh my god! Are we getting too attached too soon? Am I taking advantage of him?" moment, Sarah Rose dropped this truth bomb on me:

I guess what I'm saying is – if the shoe were on the other foot, I'd say you knew what was best for you because you're a grown woman. He seems to have his wits about him – so just ride the sweetest rollercoaster, which is called love and is made of cotton candy, sweet phone calls and weekly Wednesday dates :D

Maybe what we didn't understand when you first met him is that the universe might owe you for Brisket being such an a-hole. So maybe he was just the cover-band before the real show.

Well, if that's not salient advice, than I don't know what is.

Blush-worthy conversation

The Scotsman: [looking at my Facebook profile] Oh, this is a nice picture. I like this picture of you a lot.

Me: ...Thanks! That was taken at Seth's wedding. It was a fun day.

The Scotsman: You look very pretty.

Me: [forcing myself to take a compliment] Thank you.

The Scotsman: So you mean to tell me there's no one else interested in dating you? How is that possible?

Me: I...Well, frankly, I'm still reeling from the fact that you want to date me. So, no, I guess. Or if they do, I don't know about it.

The Scotsman: Good. So I get to have you. I mean, you know. If you want.


Me: I know.

===

People. It is like I'm in high school again. I can't stop grinning all goofy-like. Don't know what's wrong with me.

Leslie's Bachelorette Party

As you can imagine, I've got a plethora of pictures to go through these days, and very little time to actually edit and upload them.

So even though I'm posting these photos from Leslie's bachelorette party, I still haven't had time to go through the entire group I actually took. I probably have about 120 more or so to look at and edit.

But time is ticking away, so I thought I'd give you at least a little preview.




Bitches for life!







I had my brand new fake fish-eye lens, and I was anxious to test it out. (Hence the blurry factor)



Um, we drank a lot of wine at the Hibachi place. A LOT.



And then we headed to Ice Nightclub.









Leslie became very sad when the vodka ran out. But Kelly purchased a fishbowl drink and we kept the party going and got the dancing started:









More photos here. Hopefully in a few weeks even more pictures will appear in that set.

Back in the saddle

At lunch today, while waiting for my dining companion to arrive, I finally deleted all the text messages inexplicably still in my phone from Brisket.

Progress? Or sublimation? Not really sure if I care. In any event, it feels sort of liberating.

The Weekend (abridged)

6 hour drive, rain, cold, Cat calls: "Heeey Girls, lalalalalala!", Salt marshes, tiny hotel rooms overlooking the water, Kittastic and Timmy 2 Tall, rehearsal, little black dress, Chicago kids, pumpkin cake, B Fry, wine, happiness, ghost tours, high-fives, early to rise, gray skies and drizzle, nervous energy, camera checks, lens checks, beautiful bride, silly groom, thumb-wrestling, infinite joy, sneaky kisses, laughter, pig roast, shutter bug, polariod, holga, "I get a kick out of you", friends, dancing, sore feet, muddy toes, horse and carriage, after party, flip cup, potent wine, fire pit, roasting marshmallows, tipsy phone calls to a handsome gentleman, sweet drunken texts, "You are my grasshopper", warm heart, glow, drunk bus, bed, 7am, wobbly legs, 6 hour drive, Where the Wild Things Are, 2-hour phone call, more glow, collapse, pleasant dreams.


Photos to come.

Open and honest

Sarah wants me to delete my entry from Saturday morning/Sunday night, but I am not going to. Because at that moment, that is exactly how I was feeling. Awful, dejected, and sad. Come Sunday I had had time to process everything and, you know, it's fine.

Curious as to what was going on? Fine, let me fill you in.

It was Leslie's Bachelorette party (oh my goodness, pictures are on the way. Stay tuned for that). We were in Ice Nightclub, which is appropriately trashy for such an occasion. Bride-to-Be was shaking her groove thing on the dance floor. Justine, being an awesome friend, was finding men for her to dance with. Justine would go up to a gentleman, lean in close to him and say, "Hi my name is Justine. Do you dance?" They would smile and nod and she would lead them blithely to the dance floor to get down with Leslie for a few minutes. I had consumed enough liquor by this point in the evening that I decided to be Justine's helper. So I went off with her, in search of reasonably attractive men to dance with our bachelorette.

Justine and I spotted them at the same time. Two guys opposite ends of the bar. I went to the one, she went to the other.

"Hi," I said to the guy, whose tie was loosened around his neck in that sort of roguish, attractive way. "My name is Katie. Do you dance?"

"Not with you," was his immediate reply, before turning his back on me.

WHAT I SHOULD HAVE DONE

1. Tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Congratulations, you're an asshole."
   
   
2. Took off my heel and started beating some manners into him with it.
   
   
3. Let it go.

WHAT I DID INSTEAD

1. Turned it around on myself and felt like shit.

I stood there stunned for a minute before heading into the bathroom. I looked over my shoulder and could see Justine leading her guy to the dance floor. I could feel my face growing hot and my throat getting tighter. I walked into the bathroom and came face to face with a bunch of girls from the group and tried to play it all off all, I'm fine! What, my eyes are a little wet? Must be all the vodka! before blubbering into the A boy was mean to me and I'm so sad I might as well go back to the bell tower with all the other Quasimodos! confession.

It ended up being fine. Vodka and girlfriends can cure anything. Special hat tip to Krista, for counseling my drunken ass outside (where we witnessed an epic, Jerry Springer-worthy girl fight).

Bullshit like this is the reason I have self-esteem issues. One dickish comment by that guy and BAM, I was back in junior high.

This is a bad pattern for me. If we look back at key incidents, some chronicled in this blog like Skirtgate, My conversation with B, and recent events with Brisket, it's not about them being the bad guy, or being tactless, or not having their shit together. I mean, it is, obviously, and I am aware it on some level because I admit it in those entries. But I ultimately make it about me -- something must be wrong with me to make them behave this way. I must be ugly, or "asking for it," or not worthy of their time and consideration.

Let me just tell you, this is a fucked up way to think and behave. It's not healthy and it's certainly not productive.

I'm learning, though. I'm trying. And these entries are part of that. This place has always been about me expressing myself in a candid manner, and I hate to edit that moment out, just because some sobriety and personal reflection has made me wiser a few days later. It stays here as a reminder of how I felt in that moment. And I should I feel that way again, I'll read a few entries ahead and remember I have wonderful friends who love and care about me. I'll remind myself that I am complete within myself. And just like Scarlett O'Hara would say, "Tommorrow is another day."

Getting over my damn self

All right, all right, all right, ALL RIGHT.

Ugly

Facts on Facts: I have never, in my life, felt pretty.

Ever.

Tonight, Krista and I played true confessions. I admitted:

1) I would change everything about me if I could.

2) Anytime a guy has liked me, anytime, ever, I have always considered it a momentary lapse; a temporary insanity.

3) I hate how seemingly easy it is for other people. I admitted to a lot of envy and jealousy for girls in our group. Girls that I love. Girls that I would trade places with in a heartbeat. Girls who I have analyzed, studied, and copied in an effort to be that careless and light when it comes to attention from members of the opposite sex. Girls who don't realize how lucky and easy they have it. How fucking nice it must be to be thin, and pretty.

4) How fucking douchey men can be.

5) How despite all my accomplishments and talents, I will always be less. Second best because I don't fit into a nice package.

6) How all it takes – after fooling myself and building myself up for months – is one asshole comment from a guy to tear it all down again.

I hate being this way.

Edit: Realize now that I was being a self-loathing wanker and need to MOVE ON ALREADY, because this kind of thinking, behavior, and attitude is frankly getting old and boring. See two entries above for why it's not deleted completely.

Chicago!

It's been a month since I went on my jaunt to the Windy City, and I've finally uploaded all the photos from the trip. So I feel like I'm allowed to talk about it now.



It was this girl's birthday!



She's in love with this guy!

Despite my flight being delayed two hours, we still made the most of my time in Chicago. On Saturday, we headed into the city for a gorgeous day exploring.









We went on the architecture tour, so I took approximately 20 bajillion photos of buildings...









LOOK AT THAT SKY. And this brings me to my first point about Chicago: It's deceptive. It's all well and good when you visit in August. Because let me just tell you, that city is beautiful. It's clean, the river is pretty, it has kick-ass architecture (see above), and it never feels over-crowded. So it tricks you, see. You think, "Oh how nice, maybe I'll move here." But come late autumn, the inevitable happens: winter. Renee says to buy a parka and suck it up, but no. I can barely stand winter in Philadelphia. In Chicago, I might have to kill myself during the winter.

Anyway. After the tour, we headed to Navy Pier, one of Renee's favorite places for lunch/dinner with Wildman Mike! And also: drinks.









Renee has a very real (and possibly valid) fear that Joe! will leave her for Wildman Mike. Joe! is listed in Wildman's phone as "God."



Ah, who are we kidding? His heart could belong to no one but her.

Chicago also gave me some opportunity at trying my hand at some Tilt/Shift photography.

After the Navy Pier we headed to Wrigleyville for more bars and drinks and fun.

We took the bus to Wrigleyville, and this brings me to another love of Chicago: Its public transportation. SEPTA could seriously do with taking a few notes from Chi-town's book. Like, the fact that the Blue line and Red line run consistently every 10 minutes. And they're reasonably priced, like $2.50 a ride. $2.50! It's $6 to Philly from Malvern (one way). And the buses are those hybrid buses that actually have oodles of room inside, allowing for – get this – personal space whilst riding. Also, trains run practically all night long. AND (I swear this was truly amazing to me), the Blue line was undergoing some construction so at one point we had to get off the train and take a shuttle. There were, like, 14 announcements, 10 signs, and actual transit employees available to answer questions and guide you to the shuttle. Had it been SEPTA (and I know this from experience), all you would have gotten was a garbled PA announcement followed by being dumped on the platform and having to wait 20 minutes for the shuttle. SEPTA, you are dead to me. CTA is my new boyfriend.

Anyway...





I had a great time in Chicago, albiet a short time. I need to go back, for like a week, and see so much more of the city. More Chicago photos here.

I'm not cheating on you, I swear...

...But in this time of busyness and ADD, I've started tumbling.

Sorry! I know. But it's fast, quick, and filled with lots of images.

Proper writing and photo blogging to return here, I promise. But in the meantime, you can see my super quick thoughts here.

Stop looking at me that way. Stop it, I said. I don't love Tumblr more than you. I don't. It's just hard for me to write long things and recaps right now. I know, I know, I KNOW.

Look, they have things to follow like Fuck Yeah Men in Suits and Heck Yeah Nerdy Men. COME ON. I CAN'T RESIST THAT. And also I'm being exposed to a lot of cool art and photography there. So it's good for me.

And again, I swear I'm not leaving you. You're still my number one, baby.

3sixty5

So the play is over, and I deem it to be a success. Namely in the sense that I did not fall down, which was a very vivid and real possibility given that the carpeting of our set was a nightmare and I was wearing heels. Also, I remembered all my lines, which I am so thankful for. God, thanks for doing me a solid on both gravity and memorization.

But now that my stint on the stage is done, I find myself both relieved and sad: I have my life back, but now I no longer get to see my castmates. Who, by the way, I really enjoyed being with. They're a fun group and after our final show we sat at the bar for hours cracking each other up.

But as the play was waning, I began to turn towards my next big time-suck: photography. Wedding Palooza 2009 is just around the corner. It is time to gear up, friends. And because I am an insane person, I signed up for a year-long photo challenge on Flickr. As in one photo everyday for a year.

I did this to push myself a bit, and get my brain into photographer-mode and creative mode and discipline mode. But it's hard because there are some good photographers in this challenge; ones who do nothing BUT photography all day, so they're a lot to live up to. And after 14 days, already I feel a challenge in the sense that it's hard coming up with unique photos every single day.

Some of my favorites so far:



Taken at a quasi-dress rehearsal for Murder!, Liz and Craig's legs.



Liz, at our final dress rehearsal.



I got hired (!) to take photos for the N Crowd. Here poor Kristen is afraid of corners whilst riding a gyroscope.



I initially hated this photo, as I was mad at myself to resorting to cat photos already this early in the challenge. However, Stephanie has pointed out that Dill has some gravitas here. I'll let Stephanie explain it in her own way:

I was looking at your 365 stream, I think...or it could have been 30/30 or some other combination of numbers and you had one of Dill in profile looking like his ass was running for president like, you could put an American flag behind his Dillhead and launch a campaign. VOTE DILL IN 2009. DILL -- HE'S AN UPRIGHT CAT
DILL ...FOR AMERICA

She makes a good point and South Carolina certainly could use a new Senator. Thus, I am launching the Dill for Senate champaign. DILL -- HE MAY PEE IN YOUR CORNER, BUT AT LEAST HE WON'T ACT LIKE A BOORISH ASS DURING A JOINT SESSION OF CONGRESS.



A self-portrait in which I look terrible, and yet I sort of like this one because it shows just how wiped I was on Friday and how little I cared. It was after our show so I have remnants of my whore-red lipstick, mussed and falling curls, and dead eyes. Check it. Now remind me again why I don't have a boyfriend?



A photo of Kate in the Doc's office, cleaning. I would have tried to get more of the chaos of the office in this picture, only I couldn't fit.

I am also doing a "30/30" challenge on Facebook, which isn't a challenge at all, since I am pulling from my archive. But it's been fun trying to interpret the challenges in different ways.

My life has been really busy and it's going to continue to be so for at least through Wedding Palooza 09. This means that for awhile it might just be photography in these parts. Fair warning.

I guess you can call me an actress now

(The first show)(went very well)(and I did not fall down).


Now to do it alllllll over again. Four more shows people. You know you want to come!

The Uncollected Poems of Sheri St. Pierre

In Murder!, my character, Sheri, is described as a 20-something poet. Not to ruin things for you, but she's also a tramp and then uses her experiences as fodder for her poems. At one point in the show, Craig's character, Woodrow, pulls Sheri aside for a few minutes of private conversation stage right. Every night, as Craig pulls me aside and fake-talks to me, we mouth random words and phrases to each other, "I like your log cabin," or "Landen broods too much," and "Do you like my dress? It shows off my boobs." This is both a practical exercise (we need to look like we're really talking) and a dangerous one (we keep cracking each other up). At one rehearsal Craig jokingly asked that I recite some of Sheri's poems to him while we're doing our aside. But after I mouthed "There was a man from Nantucket..." to him, I was at a loss. Because I don't really know any poems off the top of my head, much less erotic ones. And while I can make a mean Indian Buffet Haiku, a poet I am not.

However, one of our other castmates (Courtney) is a poet, and a thumpin' good one. And today, she made up the following poems on the 32 bus. She claims that she doesn't want them associated with her, because they are awful. But I think she, (Courtney, that is) did a wonderful job of capturing Sheri's delightfully tacky spirit in these poems (that Courtney wrote).

And so I am happy to present: The Uncollected Poems of Sheri St. Pierre (which is a nom de plume)(For Courtney)

1. Daybreak

for Jackson

The night woods slumber--
stars so cool, the moon so bright.
My lover loves me like the night.

But morning is a flower, opening
to the touch of my Sable Apollo.

O, caress the earth, your mistress
who rests waiting for the rays
that warm and penetrate.

Morning is a flower
opening to your touch.


2. Twilight

for Martha

O summer's lush green heat
cools to autumn's ashen void,
but here he's found a summer
still supple and yielding.

Why fetter Man to the calendar,
to the endless march of day to night?
The warmth of the sun becomes
only the distant, cool moon

unless he untie the bonds
and reach out a sure, free hand
into the soft warmth of sunshine,
the open lap of day.

--

After the Harvest

after "Death in the Evening"

The old woman cries,
realizes the mist of morning will never
again dampen her hem.

She gathers the last berries and fruit
to sustain her through the winter -- a feast!
Bounty fit for gorging, indulging, but she must

peck like a bird, savor each morsel.
Though her appetites rage inside her,
she wears a mask of satiety.

Oh, that she were young again --
to wear the lace and curl her hair!
To move among men like smoke!

She cries a lot now, tasting
the last fruit of the harvest --
juice burst and spent on her tongue.

When her basket is empty and the last fruit
is eaten, still must she survive.
So she forages, collects

the scraps of other gardens,
her mouth full of a sweetness
that sours at the close of day.

--

The Depths

for Woodrow

You are your island --
a chill wind on all sides,
deep water concealing
sediment and muck.

You are your island, unreachable
untouchable without the boat
that skims a skin of blackness

The oarsman heaves his might
against the deep, his eyes
see only the hidden longing
for land, for warmth.

O Charon, row us all to safety!
Row us far from home.

--
Dialogue of Self and Self

for Landen

Here he spins in his circle, here
he can watch the clouds gather, he
knows that she can feel his heart beating.
But she looks to another --

Here he sits in his sorrow, here
the night's darkness looms -- night
holds us until the sunrise brings the ferry.
And she still cannot see --

Here he waits for his moment, here
he feels the ice melt, knowing he
alone can ask the questions and
make her know what he knows.

====

How ridiculous. I LOVE IT, obviously. Way to go Sheri(Courtney)!

It's the week of the Fringe!

From last week's preview show:



Oh god. Must remember to stand in profile and suck it in. Am as big as a fucking house. How did this happen? GOD.

Self-loathing aside, come see Murder! We open zomg, THIS FRIDAY.

Also, cast mates Liz and Rob are interviewed in this Podcast about the Fringe.

Fringelicious

So so so SO, the Fringe Festival begins in about a week and I've been all busy getting my little theatrical ducks in a row. Dress and shoes are sorted and today, thanks to the help of Sarah, I bought some kick ass jewelry for my costume. Still to do: Figure out something to do with my hair – which will most likely involve buying a set of hot rollers and teaching myself to actually style my hair, and buy some hooker red lipstick.

This past Monday, Dark Side Theater (the name for the theater company producing Murder!) participated in a Fringe Festival Preview at Play's and Player's Theater. This marked my first time on stage since I played Doctor #2 in our 7th grade production of "Doctor, Doctor." We performed a 10 minute scene that went off pretty well, despite the fact my knees were shaking the entire time, no lie. Even with my shaking knees, Jillian told me that I had "quite the strut" as I moved across the stage, so this gives me hope that I might actually live through this acting thing.

Anyway...the benefit of taking part of this preview show, aside from breaking my acting hymen, is that I got to see peeks of some other shows that will be going on and would like to make my official Fringe recommendations:

1. You're coming to see Murder!, right? You'd better.
   
   
2. And Trad too? Hello, you must. So good, you guys. And Mike Dees has already commenced with the head-shaving, so you know he's geared up.
   
   
3. The Power Of Magic: An International Commedia for Everyone by OMBELICO Mask Ensemble This was hilarious and incredible. I highly recommend it, AND it's free! You can't beat that.
   
   
4. Same Spirit Different Movement Fest by Illstyle & Peace Productions This is a dance production that incorporates all styles, but on Monday they just previewed the hip-hop bit. Still, it was pretty incredible and very fun.
   
   
5. 4Play by Secret Room Theatre Four plays, each about sex. Well, it is the Fringe, after all. The bit we saw was a section titled "Johnny Infamous," a Grease-like musical about a guy who likes to get off with inanimate objects. Utterly ridiculous, very funny, and extremely catchy songs.
   
   
6. Salesmanship For Life & Limb by Thomas Tirney & Tall Grass Productions My uncle is starring in this. Between me and my brother and now my uncle, this Fringe Festival is a real family affair.
   
   
7. Shakesploitation II Iambic Boogaloo by Iron Age Theatre R. Kelly and Juliet Trapped in the Closet. NEED I SAY ANYTHING MORE?
   
   
8. Improv Comedy by The N Crowd I'm going to be attending at least 3 performances of this, taking pictures until my camera breaks from the awesome. Join me!
   
   
9. 7 (x1) Samurai by David Gaines I don't think there's anything I can say about this that the trailer doesn't say.
   
   
10. Muralmorphosis which is where you will find me the weekend after all my Fringe shows.

Support local art and artists at the Fringe Festival!

Holy Freak-out, Batman!

I was going to give you a quick write-up about my time in Chicago, but something happened last night that took precedent over the entire weekend.

Arriving home from Chicago, I had just enough time to shove some food in my mouth and run a brush through my hair before heading out to rehearsal. After rehearsal, I came home, exchanged some pleasantries with Gary (who retired to his bedroom), and flopped down on the couch. All I wanted to do was unwind a bit and watch the series finale of Battlestar Galactica. (which, WOW, btw). The kitties were all over me, curled up for some quality time after my weekend away. Things were good, Starbuck was tapping out the secrets of the universe, and I was chilling out.

Suddenly, Galahad perked up and dashed into the hall, to be quickly followed by Dill and Kayla. I didn’t think too much of it – I assumed there was a bug of some sort. We get a lot of moths this time of year and the cats enjoy chasing them around. I was also, frankly, pretty focused on the show. And then something dark in the hall flitted into my peripheral vision and disappeared again. Wow, I thought. That must be a pretty big moth. It happened a couple more times and just when I was starting to get suspicious of it, this flew into the room:



As I was lying on the couch, it flew directly over my head. It was a terrifying moment wherein I envisioned the bat swooping down and eating my face. So I did the only thing I could do: I bolted upstairs, screaming for Gary the entire way and praying the bat wouldn’t follow me.

Here’s the thing: I am a brave, liberated chic. I will kill my own bugs – spiders, beetles, those creepy-ass centipedes we get, even roaches (which I despise) – I can do it. I’m not particularly fond of wild mice or rats, but once faced with them, I can steal myself and take care of business.

But bats? No. Just…no. For one thing, they carry a lot of disease. Like, a LOT. Rabies, first of all. But also SARS and the ebola virus. Second, they fly. Adding wings to a rat changes the entire equation. Since it can fly by it’s own volition, has sharp teeth and claws, and can give me deadly viruses? It has an advantage over me.

And you know what else? I don’t need that bullshit in my life. I’ve got enough problems as it is without disease-carrying winged creatures in my house.

Frankly, when faced with a bat in my living room, I turn into Martha Plimpton in The Goonies:


Rabies! Rabies!

So I have never been so glad that I live with a man than I was last night. I hurled myself into Gary’s room without even bothering to knock, and demanded he put his XY chromosome to good use.

Gary: [getting up, looking panicked] What’s wrong, what’s wrong?!
Me: There is [pant] A BAT IN THE LIVING ROOM. You need to take care of this.
Gary: That’s all? A bat?
Me: Whatta you mean, “That’s all?” What else do you want?
Gary: [chuckling] It’s just a bat.
Me: EXACTLY. GO GET RID OF IT. I can’t handle this.
Gary: What would you have done if I wasn’t home?
Me: I would have left. Abandoned the house and the cats and just left. Once a safe distance from the house I would then call the landlord and have him take care of it.
Gary: You know that bats are all around here, right? Like, they live in that tree right next door.
Me: I know, I’ve seen them, and that’s fine. They can live out there. They belong out there. But they do not belong in my living room, so get it out right now I'mnotkiddingsohelpmegodthisismyseriousface.

Gary chuckled his way downstairs and went searching for the bat. But he was unable to find it. “Come down and show me where it is,” he called up to me. By the mirth in his voice, I could tell he thought I had made the incident up. I creeped downstairs to help.

As we were driving to the fair a few weeks ago, Mike recounted how he recently was sent on an EMS call to our old apartment in Ardmore. Which, if you remember, we sort of loved, but was a dump. The reason for the call: The girl now living in Kelly’s old room had a cockroach crawl into her ear while she was sleeping. We did not have roaches while we lived there but if we had I would have picked up and moved, let me just tell you. At the time, I told Mike that I couldn’t imagine anything worse happening to you while you sleep. But I was wrong. Because as I was creeping down the stairs I remembered hearing on NPR that bats can bite you while you sleep and you will never know. You wake up with rabies, surprise!

I was also remembering a story QK told me about her mom – that a bat got in the house, and they thought they had got it out, but instead it hid, of all places, in their bed, burrowed under the covers. QK’s mom didn’t realize until she crawled into bed and was – I swear to god – lying on top of it.

There was no way in hell I was having either of those things happen to me. So I went downstairs to help Gary locate it.

“Where is it, where is it?” he kept asking me. “I don’t know where it is now,” I told him. “It was flying around the living room the last time I saw it.” And a few seconds later, it flew back in, causing me to haul ass back upstairs to the sounds of Gary’s laughter.

Gary managed to apprehend the bat within a few minutes, and release it safely into the wild. I am now freaked about how the bat got into our apartment in the first place. Best as I can figure, it squeezed in through one of the small openings between the panes of our old windows. Considering I’ve lived for 4 years in this apartment and never had a bat enter before, I’m going to consider this a freak occurrence. Either that, or the vibe of QK moving in is drawing the bats near. Not only does her mom have that bat story, but QK has a few of her own, as well.

Gary had made so much fun of me for this whole incident, but I don’t care. I feel very rational in my dislike of bats in my personal living space. And considering he did the dirty work and captured the bat, he has free reign to do so.

B4L

Oh promises, promises. Four entries this week, huh? How about two? Well, tough. You're going to take two and like it. I've got a lot going on. Namely this play thing. And I'm trying to watch the end of BSG 4.5 and a lot of my brain space has been devoted to trying to understand what the frak is going on with Kara Thrace (Yes, I know I'm a dork, and yes, I know that I am 12 hundred years behind the times. But I won't get a chance to watch the finale until Monday, so shut it). And also, I'm going to Chicago this weekend. Which I am very excited about.

==

So the theme for last weekend can be summed up in three words: Bitches for Life.

First of all, Melissa was in town, so I took an unprecedented two days off to spend time with her and Stephanie. The best way to describe our time together was British and Boozy. We essentially spent the entire time vegging out to anything the BBC has ever transmitted over the airwaves. We also drank a lot. We may have been a little ridiculous and over-the-top: On Friday we went to the beer distributor to pick up a case and walked out with, um, three cases. As in, one for each of us. Oops. We ate insanely well too: We had breakfast with the Doctor and Stephanie cooked us a full (vegan) English breakfast including beans on toast. Which made my heart sing and made me long for London.

The other big fun thing of last weekend was Haven's Bachelorette Party.



This girl is getting married so very soon! It's all exciting. I just had a meeting with Haven and Mike to discuss wedding photos, and let me just tell you: this wedding is going to be a damn good time. I may be nervouth about taking these photos, but god knows I'm going to be giggling from behind the lens.

The Bachelorette party began with the traditional decorating of the van and from there it was off to Coyote Crossing for a scrumptious dinner. And also some cocktails. And Sangria.



After dinner, it was time to head to the secret location of...Montana West!



Yes, there was line dancing. And yes, Kimmy and I were brave and went out and tried to do a line dance. We weren't particularly good, but whatever. But the main fun began when we ordered Haven a Montana Margarita.

Now, I've had personal experiences with this particular drink, and let me tell you it is awesome. Essentially, you get the hot bartender to give you a shot, but the people at Montana West do it...creatively.

Haven had no qualms about hopping on the bar and doing her bachelorette duty.





That bartender was hot too. Damn.

After the shot we were all feeling high in spirits:



And after making Haven do a few more bachelorette stunts, decided it was time to ride the bull:











LIKE A CHAMP. Kimmie and Justine also took a turn on the bull:





After the bull, we headed to Reed's and at this point I stopped taking pictures because It's hard to take photos when you're drinking and dancing. But let's just say that Haven had a good time.

Meanwhile, over on the faux Brit hacienda (I don't want to think about how many languages I just butchered), Stephanie went and got themselves tattoozled in serious fangirl fashion:





WHOA. That Dalek is totally going to exterminate me, but the Tardis will sweep me away just in time. ROCK.

Fair thee well

Having just got back from seeing Julie & Julia, I am now in the proper mind frame to talk about this. Never mind that were Julia Child alive she would be horrified at what we ate last weekend. The point is that the movie made me hungry. Just like the fair makes me hungry.

This year the fellow fair attendants were: Kelly (of course), Mike (YAY! I missed him so much!), Krista and Christopher. Driving up to Jersey it was just Kelly, Mike and I in one car, and when Kelly turned the car on, I channeled my mother for a minute and gleefully yelled out "Roomie Car!" It had been ages since I'd seen Mike, and I don't care. It was nice having just the three of us, together again.

Once we had all reached Kelly's parent's house, it was time to head to the Fair. Per tradition, we take the Falcon to the Fair. However, this year we originally thought we would have too many people to take just one car. So Kelly's dad, being awesome, got her sister Danielle's Falcon ready too. Only issue? It's stick. Specifically, a "Three on the Tree." Out of all of us, Krista was the only one who knows how to drive stick, and being a car lover, was stoked to drive it – even though we technically didn't need to take two cars anymore.

Krista is brave of heart. I rode with her to the fair, and let me just tell you: That car is not messing around. It is a tricky beast. As it's from the 60s, it's a bit...old. And not particularly fond of idling. And for a while there, the drive to the fair was all bumper to bumper at lights. And so, it would stall. And then when she had to put it into first gear (I assume it was first gear. My car shifts automatically, so what do I know?) the car would make this awesome clunking farty noise. We were so so cool driving in that thing. And then once we reached the fair grounds, they made us park on a hill. I swear, never in all the time we've been going to the fair have we ever had to park on a hill. Of course it would be this year. But like I said, Krista is incredible and rocked it.

And then...oh the fair. Oh, the food. The week before we went to the fair, Kelly's mom called her and told her that they had extended the main food aisle. We sort of thought she meant that they had just moved food from other locations. But no. There was somehow more food at the fair this year. And so the theme this year was about branching out and trying new things.

Full list:

• Corn! (Krista went back for seconds, later in the day!)
  
• Red velvet cupcakes
  
• Rice Krispie Treats
  
• Baked Potatoes of the Lord
  
• Nachos (A new fair food this year! I tweeted a photo to show how amazing they were)
  
• Mini Donuts (Another new fair food. They literally melted in our mouths. Awesome.)
  
• Watermelon
  
• Beef jerky
  
• Corn Dog
  
• Fudge
  
• Gyro
  
• London Broil Sandwich
  
• Ice cream
  
• Frozen chocolate covered banana
  
• Pretzel
  
• Pickle
  
• Ice cream waffle sandwich
  
• Bratwurst
  
• Kettle Corn
  
• Deep fried pickles (another new food item, also awesome)

And then we were sufficiently stuffed. For all of 2 hours. Because when we got back to Kelly's parent's house? We ate some cake. And uh, then Kelly made onion dip and we ate that with some chips. And then, since it was Danielle's belated birthday, had some ice cream cake with her to celebrate. And then we were finally full. For a little while.

Driving back from the fair was also an adventure. Namely that Danielle's Falcon stalled on the hill and had to be pushed by Kelly, Mike, and Christopher. While I was particularly useless and stood with the other, idling Falcon.

And speaking of being useless and motor vehicles...I should just not drive things other than my own car. Because that evening after we got back, we went tooling around the property on the golf cart and I took a turn driving it. And I may have nearly flipped the golf cart whilst trying to take a turn too fast and barreling downhill. Whatever. The point is that I didn't actually flip the golf cart, I merely flung Kelly and Christopher violently out of it while taking that turn. Later, because apparently they hadn't learned from the golf cart incident, they offered me a turn driving one of the mini motorcycles Kelly's dad just purchased. Yeah, I drove that thing for about three seconds and realized that motorcycles? Not for me. I'm not exactly sure what I looked like driving that thing, but it was enough to nearly make Christopher wet his pants laughing at me. Never forget how awesome I am.

Now that Fat Kid Weekend is over, I came to the harsh realization that I need to fit into a dress for Murder! and...yeah. Kind of fat rolly over here. Time for crash dieting, friends.

Previous Fair Entries:

Fair 2006
Fair 2007
Fair 2008

Redux

After the NJSF (New Jersey State Fair, dontcha know), Christopher made a flippant comment: "I suppose I'll have to wait two weeks before you post a blog entry about this." It was his way of saying that I've been lax in my blogging this summer.

OK, FINE. It's been nearly a week and a half since the NJSF and I still haven't blogged about it. But you know what else I have? A life. A lot has been going on, and granted it's not earth shattering or crazy like it was in grad school, but it's still a lot.

You know what else? Sometimes I just don't fell like writing or like I have any particular commentary I want to give on my life. Sometimes events just happen and I live them, THE END. And I've been twittering a lot, so I feel like I've covered this ground. I'm tired of making excuses for not blogging. It's not like you all are commenting a whole lot either, so...And as I said to Christopher, start your own damn blog if you want updates.

However...I do sometimes miss it.

All of this by way of saying that I am going to cave and give Christopher what he wants. A whole slew of blog entries are coming your way in the next couple hours/days. I'm going to try to post some entries about things I didn't post about, namely: NJSF and MST3K Live. And then I'm going to post about this weekend, which needs to be broken into two entries. So at minimum, 4 entries are coming your way this week.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Let's talk stock

It's been a pretty frustrating day in Cubicle World, and I don't really want to get too much into it. But suffice to say, towards the end of the day I was becoming slightly unraveled and desperate for either a tall cool drink of the boozy variety or a warm towel laced with ether.

My job requires me to browse and hunt through stock photography quite often – either for one of the numerous blogs my company runs or for book covers, brochures, whatever. In this case, it was for one of the blogs for a post detailing a compliance/benefits story about a person injured while bowling. The editor's request was simple enough: a photo of a man bowling. Fine.

But then, one of the first photos to come up in my search was, well....this.

And that was it. I couldn't stop giggling and snorting uncontrollably. I mean, seriously. Look at that image. What stock photographer thought that was a good pose? What photographer says to their model, "Hey! Crouch down, pretend you're surfing, hold the ball between your legs, and make a face as if to say, 'Behold! I have a gigantic, mutant, hot pink testicle!'"

So of course I included the photo in the selection of possible photographs for the editor, mainly to amuse myself. Here's the brilliant thing: HE CHOSE IT. I had said in the initial email that it was a ridiculous image, and he agreed, but said he liked it because he thought it looked like the guy was about to fall over. Personally, I think said editor got just as much juvenile humor out of the image and wanted to use it.