Thursday, September 28, 2006


"'We put the Oh! in flowers?' There's no 'O' in flowers."

"Are you serious? What have you been smoking?"

"Not a damn thing."


Man Friend met my parents for the first time Sunday which resulted in this conversation Saturday:

"What time do you want to meet up with my folks tomorrow?"

"((CENSOR)). I forgot all about that. I was going to get a hair cut. Why didn't you remind me? (Oh no he didn't.)"

"I do believe I DID just remind you. Besides, it's something important. Why didn't you remember? (That's right. I went there.)"

Come Sunday, Dad and a scraggly haired Rusty bonded over OSU football and powertools and Mom did her classic mom routine of jumping to her worse possible scenerio (but saying it as if she were joking) by asking me if he was "the One" and if she should start saving up for the wedding. I assuaged her concerns with my typical response of hands over the ears and yelling "lalala" so as not to hear her, BECAUSE I'M MATURE. Certainly mature enough to be getting married any time soon.

BUT, just maybe what I'm saying is start airing out those hunter green crushed velvet bridesmaid dresses ladies with the pretty orange sash and the puffy sleeves and the lace that goes up to your throat. Does that paint a pretty picture for you? HUH?!? DOES IT?!?

Thursday, September 21, 2006


Me: "I'm on top of things."

Jenny T: "Yeah. Like band geeks."

Me: "... Oh, well played."


So I noticed something this morning. I am WAY less likely to procrastinate if I have to get up EFFING EARLY IN THE DAMN MORNING (6am). I seriously got a lot done, and all before noon. I didn't even know it was legal in this state to do much of anything before noon. I...

... did a two hour training session at work on a new POS system AND got paid for it (this was the entire reason I even got up that early at all).
... bought a case of beer for the party (in bottles because Man Friend is a beer snob). Just an FYI: They actually LET you buy beer at 9 in the morning.
... went to the bookstore which didn't open until 10 so I went to Old Navy instead (and spent some of Daddy's money).
... Half Price Books (I LOVE THIS PLACE MORE THAN I LOVE MY SPLEEN, and I have a pretty damn fine looking spleen.)(They have giftcards is all I'm sayin'.)
... DuBois bookstore to pick up the books Half Price didn't have (and spent some more of Daddy's money).
... PennStation small chicken salad sandwich without tomato and extra pickles.
... finally went home to blog about it all for your enjoyment and to take a nap before my class starts at 4.

I am seriously (about 18%) considering taking this up as a habit.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006


This weekend, I noticed a button on Rusty's old letterman jacket. It was a photo of him and 6 other guys (4 of which I recognize). In their band uniforms. It HAS to be early high school. They all look like they haven't even a whim of growing facial hair, even our own Dan D. the Human ChiaPet. Granted, some of them still haven't a whim but my point is they looked like they were twelve.

I stole this button. I put it on my purse. I look at this button because it makes me SO VERY HAPPY. And by happy, I mean tingly in all the right places. Seriously. I'm the first to admit I like 'em nerdy but I didn't quite realize how much until my eyes feasted upon high school band geek at its finest.

It isn't that I'm into younger men. I tried that (sorta). It failed (he was only a year younger than the youngest sister). Miserably (it might have something to do with the fact that he's a dick). Worse than miserably (and an asshole). I don't look at high school guys now and feel happy (more like annoyed). But the combination of knowing four of these guys now, knowing who and what they are today (a farmer, a doctor, an engineer, and a welder). My heart is all aflutter and my mind is racing to naughty, naughty thoughts (can I hold your welding torch?).

Rusty wanted the button back. I told him it made me want to take my clothes off. He's going to let me keep it.

Friday, September 15, 2006


Actually, if I simply made more than I do and was fiscally able to spend more than $10 on any one person at Christmas time then, Tiffany, this would be yours.

One day, my dear, sweet sister. One day.

Thursday, September 14, 2006


"You are the best girlfriend ever."

"Well, thank you, but why?"

"You just are. I say so."

"Yeah, but I wanted a laundry list of reasons as my subtle attempt to get more compliments."

Wednesday, September 13, 2006


To use an analogy I've used a million times over, I feel as though I am walking straight for a cliff. I have NO IDEA what is in my forseeable future because I. Don't. Have. One. In three months, my entire college career will be O-V-E-R.

And then what?

I don't yet have a job. I don't even yet have a working portfolio. I have NO idea what is to become of me and I am TERRIFIED. While part of me just wants this last quarter to be over and done with so I can finally move on and stop driving myself crazy with the thinking and the plotting and the planning... I am just so very scared right now. I try to hide it from myself, too, with looking up apartments (the VERY fun part of all this) and avoiding the more obvious concerns. This is also why I've avoided my portfolio for so long because it puts in my face that someone gets to look at my work from the past five years that I'm not satisfied with in order to determine if I'm at all worth their time or effort.

And despite what everyone else has told me, that I'm crazy and I will be fine (and don't get me wrong, I really do appreciate the encouragement) I just don't see it. I want to. I want to see it. I want to know that after all of this I will come out okay and that I will actually be able to care for myself without being a burden on my parents and I will be successful and that I'll find the dream job I think I want. Not immediately. I'm not so naive to think I'll find it right off the bat. Hell, I think I'll be lucky to find ANYTHING.

I've been told I'm silly, that I think this taking care of myself thing is way more difficult than it actually is but I have no proof that anything I think is wrong. I haven't ever been made to test it. To test myself. And what if I fail? After all the time and effort and money my parents have put into me, after all this confidence everyone else seems to have in me... what if I disappoint you all? What if I disappoint me? I'm not okay with that. But I'm also not confident enough to say it isn't even an option. Working retail the rest of my life certainly isn't. I'm a planner! I organize things! I am almost obsessively thorough! But I just have NOTHING to work with right now. NOTHING to grasp onto.

And all I can do is keep heading for that cliff and hope to God the parachute deploys.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006


EDIT: From now on, all updates about the party can be found here.

Hi kids. The Man Friend kindly pointed out the slight issue of where y'all were going to sleep after this shindig is all said and done because Drew is kind enough to offer us a field, but crashing at his place is NOT an option. Dan's parents MIGHT be up for it but I've yet to speak to Dan about the issue so DO NOT QUOTE ME ON THAT.

Another option is camping it and I've already contacted Christina Jo to see if borrowing her seven man tent is an option (I can't imagine that it wouldn't be). If anyone else knows anyone who owns a tent/has one themselves, I would love to borrow it for the occassion. With regards to the seven man tent, I guess the first seven people who ask me about it get it?

ALSO, this party is BOYB and Knox County is a D-R-Y county. While it is perfectly legal to drink inside county limits, you cannot purchase alcohol within those same county limits so either buy it here and bring it up or buy it at some pit stop on the way up. (Yes, I realize I've previously stated that there would already be beer there but that beer will be lovingly provided by you because I can only afford so much and the Man Friend is generous but even that is too much for him. So, sorry and if that changes your status then you are totally lame and if not, you are totally cool and rock on.)

- Do you have a tent? Do you know someone with a tent? Do you have a sleeping bag? BRING THEM!!!

- Buy your beer here and bring it with you.

- I will be driving up after work on Saturday (I get off at 3:30 and will be leaving sometime Sunday late afternoon if someone wants to ride with me).

- If you have a folding chair, BRING IT! The real draw of this party is Dan and the burning of a couch. We're pretty much going to hang out and watch things light on fire. I wouldn't burn smores on this fire seeing how it is a couch but maybe we can provide something else like that. Also, another draw for you city slickers is the fact that you can see every freaking star in the sky. Trust me on this. It made it very difficult to walk up the hill last time because I was too busy checking out the Milky Way.

Seriously folks, if this is too much of a pain, I understand but it is for Dan and I feel way more comfortable asking it of all of you FOR HIM than I would if it were any other person. At the same time, I still want enough people interested to make this worth our while to pull it all together so just tell me you're still interested/absolutely for sure coming come hell or high water/or if this is just a bit too much for you and you're going to kindly back out.

That's it for now. There will, without a doubt, be another update later but I will try to warn you about it via Facebook.

Monday, September 11, 2006


Mysterious I ain't. There is no sexy allure about me that makes men want to know more. I am not coy. I am not demure. I am not enchanting or seductive. I could just never pull it off and I've given up long enough ago that I have no remaining delusions otherwise. It boils down rather simply. I don't willingly hide things (which I'm sure has some direct correlations to my inability to keep my mouth shut). And along with no delusions, I've also accepted and even become okay with the fact that I will NEVER play the role of the beautiful, mysterious stranger.

What I wasn't prepared for was the fact that I am also so predicable. When I started dating Rusty, one of the first things I thought was, "he's not the type I usually go for." This was a good line of thought seeing how successful I'd been in the past dating guys who fit my "type". (See: The Asshole) But apparently, I WAS so delusioned to think the men I'd dated in the past fit my type at all.

Please. Allow me to explain myself.

I have a picture featuring Rusty amongst a crowd of 10 other boys at some high school dance. In this picture, Rusty is one of only two NOT wearing sunglasses. He is also wearing a gray plaid suit. Now... I'm all for plaid, particularly gray plaid (See: My own pair of hideously ugly gray plaid pants) but... let's just all take a moment to thank the proper authorities that Rusty was wearing this in high school where such lapses of judgement are wholey forgivable and even encouraged for the future entertainment of others.

He is certainly easy to pick out of this photo IF you know who he is. Chris (Katie's best friend) does NOT know who he is, but that did not stop him from picking up this photo, studying it for nary a minute, and pointing Rusty out of the entire crowd saying that is who he thought I would date.

Further investigation revealed that he didn't so much just look at Rusty and decide he was it, he was simply the one left after the process of elimination. BUT STILL! I am so gut wrenchingly predictable a BOY pointed him out. Not even a woman with her astute powers of observation. NO. It was a man.

Bloody hell.


Hi kids. I'm trying to think of brilliant ways to spread the word about Dan D.'s Going Away Party/Couch Roast to be held at Drew's farm and the narcissistic part of me thinks enough of you read this blog for it to make any resemblance of an impact.

What: Dan D's Going Away Party/Couch Roast
When: September 23, 2006
Time: 8, I guess.
Where: Drew's farm. It's far away. I know this. But we can't burn stuff in the city and there will be beer and it IS for Dan. D-A-N. You all know and love this guy. He's so worth a car trip. And he'll be up there anyway.
Why: The man is leaving for TWO WHOLE YEARS to save orphans and widows in Guatamala. The least he deserves is your attendance at some party. There will be beer. And maybe hotdogs. Everybody loves hotdogs. And fire. There will definately be fire. And a couch. In the fire. How cool is that? Definately cool enough for you city slickers to drive 3 hours. Definately.

(And there will actually be a couch this time or Rusty get's shot with the potato gun... which may happen anyway.)

Sunday, September 10, 2006


A recent phone message I left Dan: "So.. are we, like, fighting because I haven't heard from you in a long time and I know I haven't called either and I HAVE worked the last four days and I have to work the next four, too, but I was just wondering because I haven't heard from you. Okay, so call me back. Unless we really are fighting. Because in that case, you suck. Bye."
Dan's response: "When did you turn into such a girl?"

A recent phone conversation I had with Rusty: "Yeah, it was touch and go there during the (OSU/Texas football) game. I was tempted to just end this relationship."
Rusty's response: "When did you turn into such a girl?"


I have a secret. It's heinous. Really and truly awful. Actually, it isn't much of a secret at all because I somehow manage to tell every new person I meet. It's also the best kept secret EVER KNOWN TO MAN because no one seems to believe me until they witness it themselves.

I am ridiculously easy to startle, and I mean easy like a pubescent boy is easy. Seriously, folks. If someone is STANDING (as in, NOT ATTACKING ME BUT STANDING EFFING STILL) some place I wasn't expecting, I jump. If something doesn't LOOK the way I think it should, I jump. This brings great joy to my roommate but WHY does no one ever believe me when I try emphatically to describe the severity of my reaction? I DON'T EXAGGERATE!!!*

Stop laughing. Stop it. I'm not actually kidding though. If it's a story, well, yeah, but other stuff. Stuff like this? SO. NOT. KIDDING.

So when Rusty ran out of my room and I turned the corner and didn't immediately see him, my brain uber quick went through the mental deduction to figure out he had already turned the OTHER corner and was on his way down the stairs.

Except he hadn't.

And he wasn't.

In the moment it took for my eyes to sweep over to where he was standing he didn't even NEED to say the mumbled, "boo" that tumbled awkwardly from his lips, his hands up like claws. Nope. It. wasn't. necessary. The scream that erupted from the very fiber of my being in turn startled the shit out of him. He LEAPT away from me, falling against the wall, arms up in defense, a disgusted and pained look on his face until the shrillness subsided and I was left clutching the wall and my chest, panting.

The biggest problem with this affliction (asside from the uncontrollably loud screaming) is if I don't manage to startle someone with my reaction, I usually don't get a chance for retaliation. That, however, was not the case this weekend. While Rusty was minding his own business (and showering, as it were) I plowed my way into the bathroom, really just to be a pain in the ass, and went to the end farthest from the door to peak in, the thought process in my head being I was less likely to get wet. He heard the door open and looked out to see what was going on just after I'd managed to sneak by. Satisfied that it was all in his head, he turned around to see my floating head peering at him (the upper half of him) and he nearly jumped out of his skin, yelling obscenities and spouting hatred, and again I was left clutching the wall and my chest, laughing.

And I'm beginning to see why y'all think this is so fun.

*Except for that one time!

Wednesday, September 06, 2006


Because occassionally, she makes me cookies. And on even rarer occassion, she makes me laugh REALLY. HARD.

"Cookie! I'm going to take 5 cookies and that will be my lunch today."


"As a nursing student you would let me do that?"

"No. As a fat kid I would let you do that."

Yay, Katie! Yay, cookies!


Nothing in my life is funny right now. I tried. I tried three times to write a post for you, Tiff, so you could get some work done in a relatively happy mood but all I'm freaking doing right now is working... retail. I know you've done it and you're a much stronger soul than I. I bow down at your feet, kiss kiss, blah blah, hail the workaholic queen.

Sunday, September 03, 2006


"How was work today?"

"Work was long and arduous and I'm a big pussy because I don't want to go back."

"You are the only person who would ever use 'arduous' in a sentence."

"Is that why you're dating me?"



"The largest waist a Playboy Bunny has ever had is 32 inches."

"Well, that isn't hard. When I run my waist drops down to 30 inches."

"When I run my body waist doesn't change."

"Oh yeah?! Well, when I run I get out of breathe."