Special Intentions

I know I've been quiet around these parts lately, and I apologize. But it’s been a rough week and a half, partly because of my own dumb-assedness and because I suck with money. And I didn’t want to whine, and I didn’t want to complain.

But this morning, I got hit with three sucker punches. And I need your help right now.

1) The Jab.
A good friend of mine who lives in Baltimore, his father has been diagnosed with, of all things, breast cancer. Yes, men can get it too. They are optimistic, but you know how these things go: surgery, radiation therapy, etc. It’s still going to be a rough road. We like Good friend in Baltimore a lot along with his lovely wife. It makes us sad that his father is sick.

2) The Right Hook.
I received an email from my aunt this morning with the cheerful news that she’s been diagnosed with both Grave’s Disease and Hashimoto’s Disease. Long story short: both hyperactive and under active thyroid diseases, which you would think would even itself out, but apparently not. She also has nodules on her thyroid and some cysts. She needs to undergo a biopsy and possibly an operation. This is known to be a heredity condition and guess what? I just found out that my grandmother, great aunt and second cousins had similar conditions. Yes, Virginia, this means I need to start getting my thyroid regularly checked because it’s more prevalent in women.

3) The Surprise Left.
Some of you have heard me talk about my friend John, the one I’ve dubbed as “The Ashley Wilkes to my Rhett Butler.” I’ve known him since I was 10 and over the years my crush on him turned into a surrogate brother/sister relationship. In 2000 he moved to West Virginia and married a girl there and started a family with her. I got an email from his wife this morning telling me that his youngest daughter, an 11 month old beauty named Maggie, has been diagnosed with Hepatoblastoma. Basically, she has an aggressive malignant tumor. She’s not even a year old yet, and she has liver cancer. This is, without a doubt, one of the saddest and one of the worst things I could think to have happen to my friend and his family. Maggie is undergoing surgery on Thursday. There are no words for this. Because anyway I think about this, it’s so awful. Never before has the distance from West Virginia to Pennsylvania seemed so far. I just want to give my friend a hug, and it’s impossible. And let me tell you something about John: He is one of the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful boys on the planet. I mean, look at it this way —— he’s put up with my dorky ass for 14+ years. And John is a great father. I know this, because John can’t be anything else: it’s against his nature. This has to be one of the most heart breaking things for him, because he loves his daughters and step kids with every inch of his being.

I guess I am just asking for you to think about all these people when you get a chance. Send out a silent prayer for them, or a good thought, karma, wishes, whatever you’ve got. In a special way, I want to ask you to remember John and his family. Nothing against Good Friend in Baltimore or my Aunt, but when I think of them I have the feeling that they’re going to turn out OK. They’re strong folk. They can handle this. But an 11 month old girl? Not fair, I say. And when I think of Maggie…

Just think of them for me, OK? I appreciate it, and I know they do too.

Because I'm sad and poor and over anxious

I've had peanut butter crackers for lunch and I think I am going to have booze for dinner.

Susie Homemaker, Lookout

Easter dinner: A success!

The lamb was good. Everyone said it was tender and delicous. My side dishes all turned out really well. My table setting was super sweet and pretty, until of course, I spilled wine on my cute yellow table cloth. And my desserts got rave reviews.

And I managed to do it all without burning the kitchen down.

I RULE!

#1 Single

Dear Lisa Loeb,

I'm sitting here watching your reality TV show On Demand at 12:30am because I've done all the prep work I can think of for the Easter Dinner of Doom tomorrow, with the possible exception of cleaning the bathtub, because I am totally procrastinating on that since the tub is sort of nasty and I'm really hoping that I can avoid getting elbow deep in Ajax and just use the shower curtain to hide it , but deep down I know I need to do it since really, it's grody.

Anyway, yes.

I'm watching #1 Single, and I have to say: Word, Lisa. I completely feel your pain. I don't understand boys either. And I don't understand how you can be single seeing as you're talented and super smart, and cute and kicky and completely famous. I know this sounds bad, but the fact that you're having trouble sort of comforts me, because if you can't make it, it means the male species is deficiant and just doesn't get it. So it's not my fault I am single. Like that dude who wouldn't get off his damned cell phone and left you standing at the zoo? What the hell? Or that weirdo who sang "Stay" to you on Kareoke? Unspeakably lame. What's wrong with guys?

I sort of wish we could meet because I think that we would be BFF seeing as I am also a kicky girl with glasses. We would drink coffee from your Hello Kitty coffee maker and eat huge squares of rice crispy treats (Lent is over, bitches) and I could complain that I didn't get anything from Columbia in the mail today despite the fact that their website says I would hear from them by today and the fact that I didn't get anything from them makes me think that I didn't get in. And then you would say something comforting, like maybe it was only sent out today or that it's delayed because everyone is sending out their taxes and the post office was swamped. You could, like, be a big sister figure for me or something. It would be cool.

On your show? When introducing your friend Stephanie? You said, "Why are all the awesome women single?" I wonder the same thing! I know so many fantasic cute ladies who men treat like crap. Or don't notice. Men are dumb.


Anyway, I'm on the last episode now, so I should really end this letter and really consider tackling the tub and going the hell to bed even though I can't sleep since I am worried about the lamb and freaked about Columbia because I am a failure.


Do you really think I can just hide the tub with the shower curtain?


Hearts,

EightK


P.S. -- I totally want your hair.

Baa Baa

People: It's here. There's currently an 8lb. leg of lamb sitting in my fridge. I feel so so sorry for the poor little sheepy who's hobbling around in some pasture missing one of his limbs just so I could cook an Easter dinner for my family that's designed to make me crazy. (And to those of you who are about to interject about there not being a sheep hobbling in a pasture somewhere, all I have to say to you is LA LA LA LA LA CAN'T HEAR YOU!)

Speaking of things that are making me crazy, let's talk for a second about how I haven't heard a peep from Columbia. I was planning to be all cool and collected here in my blog about it, but I have to confess it's driving me up a frickin wall not knowing. I'm supposed to hear by the 15th which is TOMORROW, but so far my mailbox has been disgustingly empty. I know deep down that this is one of those things in life that's supposed to teach me patience, or whatever, but fuck that. I want to know damnit. I also must confess that I am terrified of what that letter might contain. I can't figure out if I am more terrified of being accepted or rejected.

On one hand, it's not a full M.A. program, which a lot of people think that it is and think I am going away for two years. It's just for 4 weeks, and all I'll have after it is a certificate to hang on my wall, some bitching network contacts in the New York publishing world, and oodles of smarts and hands-on training. I don't know if work would let me take a 4 week little sojourn to someplace where I'm making friends with people who will potentially want to give me jobs in tall skyscrapers on publications that are not about office equipment and therefore people might have heard about them. I have a feeling that work would be all, "Well. Nice knowing you. Good luck and we'll hire someone else while you go off and pretend to be Carrie Bradshaw."

On the other hand, it's freaking Columbia, how awesome is that? And to get into this program would be such a feather in my cap, seeing as they only accept 100 students a year.

But then -- they only accept 100 students a year. I'm never getting in, who am I fooling? And I've told everyone about this, so now everyone is expecting me to get in and go there. And what about Prim, and JB, both who took a lot of time to write me reccomendations and cheer me on, what will they think when I fail? Such a let down.

Crap, this entry wasn't supposed to be about this. It was supposed to be about my follies of hosting a holiday dinner for the first time. Sorry for dropping my insane insecurites on you all.

EW!

To the dude from India who found my blog from this search:

STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY BLOG, YOU SICKO!

And also? Think about professional help.

Ew. yuck. bletch.

Skeeved out,

8K

And the World Spins Madly On

I have been accepted into Rosemont College's Graduate Program for an M.A. in English and Publishing.

Scoping out

Oh my god, the Redhead and I were just talking about this, I swear. My Horoscope, from Free Will Astrology:

Taurus (April 21-May 21)

Lately I have this recurring vision of you crawling up out of a deep hole. I've even had two dreams with that theme. Each time, you seem to defy gravity as you climb by clawing at the sides of the hole and pulling yourself higher and higher until you finally emerge into daylight. Why am I having these fantasies? Are they a metaphor for your life right now? I shudder to think that you've been in an abyss as profound as the one I've been seeing, though I'm ecstatic about the prospect that you're about to escape.


For real you guys. I feel it too. It's just around the corner.

Easter Menu

OK, so I have roughly two days until my Easter Dinner, and no, I still haven't found a difinitive way to cook the lamb. But! I do have the rest of the menu planned out:

Appetizers

Dolmades (stuffed grape leaves -- in addition to being Irish, my family is also Greek)
Chestnuts wrapped in bacon
Walnut and Cherry Salad

Main Course

Lamb with tomato sauce and pasta
Braised Asparagus
Bread Stuffing
Glazed Baby Carrots
Green Bean Cassarole (it's tradition, OK?)
Cranberry Sauce from a can (I will never hear the END OF IT from my brother if I don't serve this, I swear, because he still -- STILL!-- brings up the Thanksgiving four years ago where my mom dared to serve home made cranberry sauce instead of that gelationous crap)
Hot Cross Buns

Dessert

Canoli (Kelly suggested this and in my sweet-embargo-coming-to-an-end craze, I have to admit that canoli sounds fantastic)
Black Walnut Cake
Pumpkin Roll (my mom will probably bring this)


Still to do: Clean my apartment top to bottom, shop for groceries, secure a roasting pan because it would be nice to have something to cook the lamb in, figure out what wine goes best with lamb (ooh --- a shiraz maybe?), get a hold of my damn brother to go over plans and convince him to come over on Saturday night and sleep over because it will be easier that way, buy a table cloth, get flowers and candles for the centerpiece, and plan the cooking out so that it's perfectly timed and we can eat at 2pm.

Photo Phun

What do you get when you try to cram five 20-somethings into an itty bitty photo booth?

This:

A note of advice to my alma mater

Stop being so stabby. It will help with enrollment, I swear.

Love,

Katie

P.S. - Ditch Iadarola. Losing her will also help enrollment.

Post Alcoholic Thoughts

Nirm: "Pessimism doesn't look good on you." My thought in response: "Well I've run out of optimism as far as this subject is concerned."

And that? Is the goddamned truth. I think I am officially DONE, towel thrown in, white flag waving. I've used up whatever half fucking lies I've been telling myself for the past 2 years. All that bullshit of "Oh the right time will come, I need to focus on ME now" is over. I am offically pathetic, lonely, and sick of being the one who hasn't copped off. I am sick of being the only one without, the only sad one, the loose end. I am so sick of it.

And I am tired of everyone trying to comfort and reassure me. Because with the exception of Prince Fucking Charming who I am not counting because: Prince Fucking Charming, hello!, you have two fucking years of evidence working against you. You're wrong. "But--" No. You're wrong. Accept it and let's move on.

I love you though, and appreciate you trying.

But you're still wrong.

So it has been written, so let it be done

I am blogging tipsy from Renee's Ten Commandments Party to say:

BONDAGE!

P.S.-- And also: NIPPLES

Dear Alton Brown: HELP!

So because I am INSANE, I've decided to have my parents and brother over to my apartment for Easter Dinner. Meaning that I have to cook. And just to knock up the Krazy a few notches, I've decided to make my great grandmother's recipe for leg of lamb. Because heaven forbid I do something simple like ham, which I already know how to make. No, it has to be lamb. Krazy, I tell you.

Anyway, here's her recipe word for word, which I've just secured from my aunt:

"Leg o'Lamb"

Roast of lamb-add onion, celery, parsley, and clove of garlic, together with salt and pepper
Roast until done.
Baste with tomato paste and water.
When near done, add potatoes and noodles.

For real, that's what it says. Yeah, thanks Mom-Mom, no need to get into specifics with that AT ALL. Like, you know, oven temperature. Or how long to cook the thing. Don't give me quantities or anything either. NO, REALLY, IT'S FINE.

I think I need to have a backup ham, just in case.

Wacky Wednesday

Reasons why this day is weird:

1. They want Paris Hilton to play Mother Theresa
   
   
2. Today was my first time in the Frazer Diner, which is crazy considering I've worked within 10 minutes of it for 2 years and lived the same distance for 9 months. Also, it's an awesome diner, the old fashioned kind I love.
   
   
3. The Redhead explained taxes to me and I actually sort of understand them now (trust me when I say this is remarkable).
   
   
4. I surprisingly don't owe money to either the federal or state government.
   
   
5. The State of Pennsylvania owes me $0.03
   
   
6. Have you seen how schizoid the weather is being? I woke up and it was raining. Then it was sunny. On my drive to the office it was flurrying. Then it was raining again. Followed by a snow squall that turned into a mini blizzard. And then sunshine. When I went to lunch it was gray and windy. Now it’s sunny and the temperature is rising. We’ve been through, like, 3 seasons in 6 hours.
   
   
7. I misunderstood the meaning of the word “twirl” because I am a pervert, apparently.
   
   

We should all call Bill Napoli

Stephanie McMillan rules my world. Check it:



Yeah. 'Nuff said.

Saturday Morning Redux

Hi, Hi! Been a few days, right?


OK here we go:

I went to training for Aodbe Illustrator where my instructor was named Chad and that made me giggle because while I know that is a perfectly normal acceptable name, I still think it's funny for some reason. Chad couldn't remember my name even though there were only two other students in the class and he had the attendance list. He called me every other name including "Michelle." When I tossed him a questioning look about calling me Michelle, he stated that he thought I looked like a Michelle. Uh, CHAD? No, I don't. Not that there's anything wrong with the name Michelle, but I sure as hell don't look like one. You know what I look like? I look like the third name down on your attendence sheet. There ya go.

Good Lord, how awesome was LOST on Wednesday night? That map thing on the blast door? A bunch of my coworkers spent most of Thursday trying to decode it. I have no idea what is going on. Oh! And then that reveal at the end about Henry. Not that I was totally surprised because I knew there was something off about him, but way to fake me out a little bit. Also: Terry O'Quinn you are the man.

Friday was gloriously spring-like and saw the return of Friday at Frisbee At Four, which makes me very happy.

Since Friday was so pretty, I decided to go grocery shopping and get us spring food -- fresh veggies and fruits, picnic food, etc.--- and when I came home we decided to barbeque. Only problem: We don't have a grill. What we did have, was 2 mini portable grills (we're talking itty bitty) that you might take with you camping or when you go to the park and decide you want a hot dog. So we made Mike go out on the porch and crouch down and grill chicken and asparagus on this teeny thing, making him the laughing stock of the neighborhood. Mike, you looked very manly grilling our food. Really. No, I'm serious, you did. Along with the chicken and asparagus, I also made onion roasted potatoes, and we had fresh strawberries for dessert, with either Vanilla yogurt or whipped cream, depending on your lenten sacrifices. After a delcious meal, we retired to the living room for the Showtime free weekend only to watch this masterpiece, which we actually gave up on becasue it was that bad. I think the chicken fucking scene is what did it in for me, and really it's a miracle I made it that far. It goes on the shelf between Manos and Girl in Gold Boots, only not as funny.

Today is also very spring like, and I want to go to Produce Junction to get some plants for our windows and the fire escape. Also, time spent cleaning is in order, becuase QK and Beckycake are on their way down.

OH! What are you doing with your Sunday evening? Nothing right? You should come to Cabrini College's Holy Spirit Library, because on the second floor, Gary is holding his art show! We'll all be there!

Apologies on how stilted and weird this entry is, I'm rushing about. More later?