Christmas Curiosities...

I very much like this picture.  I hope you do too...

Last time we talked, I was sharing with all of you the amazing photos I found on my top notch clip art/stock images CD.  Believe it or not, that was my most popular blog to date.  Who knew?  Less talky-talky, more pictures.  I'll throw a few more in for you viewing pleasure at the end of this blog, but I have a couple of quick questions in regards to Christmas for you:

1. What is the deal with this song Christmas Shoes?  If it doesn't make me cry, does it mean I don't have a heart?  I'm concerned.  I saw a friend tweet about it a couple of weeks ago, so I googled it.  I found a YouTube "original" video to accompany the song.  Worst video ever.  Horrible video The kids teeth are jacked, he's buying sneakers for his dying mom that look like they are used.  And I get that the sentiment is that he wants his mom to have new shoes to wear to heaven.  It's just a little over-the-top.  It's possible the video ruined the message of the song for me.  The Dreamlover video by Mariah Carey had the same effect on me....oh wait, I just don't like Mariah Carey.
2. The Lost Ogle blogged about this earlier today.  But I stand by the fact that I asked this just the other night, why is My Favorite Things now considered a Christmas song.  It's not about Christmas.  It's about a thunderstorm in Nazi-Austria when Liesl sneaks out and cute little Gretl is scared.  It wasn't even winter in the movie.  Somebody explain to me what is going on here.  If I decide that I would like Defying Gravity to be a Christmas song, can I just make that happen?  Who do I need to call?
3. How do parents explain to children how Santa comes into their houses when they have gas fireplaces that don't open.  I need to know, because Mr. Bojangles is getting old enough to be curious.  Does Santa just come through a window?  And do we just send our alarm code to the North Pole?  I mean, I just want to keep up with the times.

Enough of that, here are some pics I left out the other day. 

Another scary elf.  Yet to be determine where is he going.

You should probably just come up with your own caption.  Because I really don't know what is going on here.

Just because you dress in all red doesn't make you Santa.  Where's the belt?  The fur trim?  Where's your freakin' beard?  Fraud. 

So a sheep dog and a clown walk into a creepy old motel...

And finally, I know this isn't Christmas, but I really like this picture.  I think this might be Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater and his wife is inside there.

Happy holidays  everyone, I'll be back after I open all my presents.  I just know this is the year I get a Vespa.

A very special Christmas message

This summer, I purchased some clip art CDs.  I'm not really sure how the law reads exactly, but I know that it is frowned upon to just pull images from the internet and use them in publications.  Not wanting to get myself in trouble, I decided that it was probably in my best interest to invest in some clip art. I found a great deal.  More then 20,000 images for a mere $40.  How did I get so lucky?    I'll tell you how, the pictures are suspect.  I knew I was in trouble when I found the picture you see above in the "sports" folder.

Today as I worked on creating a electronic holiday greeting from everyone in the office, I went back to my trusty clip art CD.  Maybe, just maybe the holiday pictures will be better quality.  Not so much.  I've pulled a couple of my favorites for your viewing pleasure.  If these don't get you in the holiday spirit, nothing will.... enjoy.

Santa, minus the beard, plus dreads.  And of course he's grilling.

This picture was in the "holiday" folder.  I've yet to determine which holiday she is celebrating.



Hey, I've got an idea....let's just take pictures of things around the house and label them as "high res photos."  No one will know the difference.



Nothing says Christmas like a blurry, off-center picture of the front of a random office building.  'Tis the season, indeed!

Cucumbers, one pickle, a half-eaten cake.  Or as they say in the art-world: still life.

I don't know what is going on here.  I'm so confused I can't even come up with a witty caption.

Two obvious things to take away from this: the kid is wearing a sweet jacket and the man he is with looks like a serial killer.  Happy Holidays!



It was very difficult for me not to choose this picture for our office holiday card.  I personally think scary full-sized elves are really, really fantastic.



The End.

When I grow up...

... I want to type on a typewriter in my car, while driving on the wrong side of the road and wear a fedora.  At least that is what is indicated by this accompanying photo.

I stumbled upon an article about the Oklahoma City Thunder today on Grantland.  Here is a link to the story and here is a link to the site.  I of course loved it.  I then became sad.  Have you read Grantland?  It's awesome.  It also employs one of my favorite writers, Chuck Klosterman, so that was an instant selling point for me. 

I like to think that I'm not selfish, or self absorbed, but in all honesty, from time to time, I am.  Whatevs.    I volunteer a lot, that has to negate some of my bratty jealous moments, right?  When I read sites like Grantland I become instantly jealous of the people who get to write opinion pieces about sports FOR THEIR JOB.  Seriously, do these people know how lucky they are?  Coming from a girl who has an opinion about everything, the prospect of getting paid to be funny and opinionated makes me light-headed.    I decided, today at 1:45 p.m., that writing for Grantland would be my dream job. But fear not, friends, I've got a few other things I'm positive I would excel at:

1. An otter trainer.  I love otters.  They are funny and playful, and they like to swim.  Win, win, win.  That would be a fun job.

2. An English-speaking tour guide in Pompeii.  I have an obsession with Pompeii thanks to my high school Latin teacher, Mrs. Albert.  I will find a way to end up in Italy giving tours to Americans and Brits wearing fanny packs.  Last time I was in Pompeii, our guide told me I had real potential.  Grazie.

3. Butter chef.  You know, like Paula Deen.  How amazing would it be to be able to just cook everything in a ton of butter.  For your job.  I mean, come on.  Heaven on buttery, fat Earth.

I'm not sure how I would categorize my last dream job, but I think I would be excellent as a personal tour guide.  I would just go with you on your family vacations, take pictures for you, tell you all the random things I know about the places you are visiting, take you to great restaurants like Hard Rock Cafe, and basically become your best friend.  I would excel at that job.

That's all for now.  Back to my real job, where they unfortunately do not pay me to tell jokes or be funny.  Sigh.

Happy Nuggets

It's good to be back in the blogosphere, I really need to work on being more consistent in my writing.  I apologize web-friends.  You can assume one of two things if I'm not writing: I'm insanely busy OR I don't have anything interesting to say.  The theme of 2011 seemed to be, "How many things can Kathy find herself involved in?"  The unofficial results: 427.  I'd like to round that out to 430 for 2012.  A common scene in my house this year was me running through rooms yelling, "I'm so stressed out!"  I officially had a full plate this past year.  So full, the mashed potatoes were falling off the side.  Don't act like you don't get that analogy, everyone loves mashed potatoes.

Today, I'm going to share with you a few of my December favorite things.  It's kind of like Oprah's favorite things, but I'm not wealthy, I won't be giving you anything, and I won't be scream-announcing each one.  Sorry.

1. My Christmas Chicken.  My mom came up last weekend and we did a little holiday shopping.  We bought some Christmas decorations, because you can NEVER have enough.  Ever.  Anywho, we found these little penguins that are wearing Santa hats and bounce up and down due to the springs inside them.  Amazing.  My mom kept calling them chickens, which annoyed me.  Penguins, not chickens.  Quit  calling them chickens.  Despite my insistence of her avian misidentification, she continued to call them chickens.  What's the point in fighting it?  Just go with it.  So last night, as I was finishing my Christmas decor, I named my new penguin "The Christmas Chicken."  Then I would bop him on the head and watch him bounce up and down.  Boing, boing, boing, goes the Christmas Chicken.  Sometimes it's the little things that make Kathy the happiest.

2. The Animal Game.  You know how kids go through phases?  I do that too.  My current phase is explaining states of being by combining an adjective with an animal.  It started with Sad Panda.  I can't claim Sad Panda, I'm not sure where it came from, but I have wholeheartedly adopted it.  This morning, as I groggily stumbled through the kitchen, I announced that I was a sleepy penguin.  Husband said, "Oh yeah?  Not a sleepy chicken?"  I rolled my eyes.  Seriously, who has ever heard of a sleepy chicken?  No one, that's who.  I explained, "Um no.  Sleepy Penguin.  Christmas Chicken.  Sad Panda."  And per usual, I got a confused look of, "I don't understand most of what you say."  I'll be adding to the list.  Suggestions welcome.

3. Sending unexpected cards.  I like to send non-Christmas cards during the holidays.  I'm so unconventional.

4. Cliche confusion.  Have you seen the movie  Boondock Saints?  Are you familiar with the guy who mixes up his cliches/proverbs?  "You know what they say, people in glass houses sink ships."  I'm married to that guy.  Husband just smushes phrases together and presents them as some new wise pieces of advice.  This happens about three times a week.   Last night he said, "He just has too many bees in his bonnet." 
Me: "One bee.  Not multiple.  One." 
Husband: "But wouldn't you be more upset if there were a lot of bees?" 
Me: "That's not the point.  You can't just change phrases."
...as you can see, I'm kind of a hypocrite.  Of course you can change phrases.  So I've decided to just enjoy the ride.  Smush away, Husband.  The more obscure the better.

5. Tebow Time.  See above: I'm a hypocrite.  I'll be the first to admit that I found St. Timothy of Gainesville VERY annoying during his collegiate career.  I did kind of like when he gator-chomped towards the OU team during the 2008 National Championship Game, but besides that he drove me a little nuts.  And then Denver drafted him and I rolled my eyes.  But he has won me over.  Winning does that.  I love winning.  And I know that if he played for anyone else, I would scoff.  But he doesn't, so I think Tebow Time is fun.  I'm fickle.  Deal with it.  I think of Tebow much like I thought of Byron Eaton.  I cheer for him because he plays for my team.  He drives me crazy.  I don't understand his choices on the field/court,  but if he wins, I'm happy.  And you know, Tebow Time, much like Happy Hour, can't last forever.  So let's order another round of margaritas, virgin of course, and enjoy it while we can.

Cowboy stressing...

This is not a picture of me, but sometimes this is how I feel.

I was asked to write a blog about my feelings about the loss to Iowa State and the upcoming Bedlam game by my friend Beauty's husband.  He's a writer too.  A much better writer than I, and he gets paid for it.  I hate him. Kidding.  Kind of.  Anyway, you can check his blog out here and read his thoughts on this exact same matter.

Initial thoughts on the Iowa State loss?  I didn't like it.  Not one bit.  I make a point not to overly criticize the players.  They are kids, after all...except for Weeden.  He and I are almost the same age.  Not the point.  Point is, I was really disappointed and upset.  I chose to deal with the loss, the best way I know how: denial.  I turned the TV off, didn't read any blogs/message boards/write ups, didn't read Saturday's paper, and didn't watch Game Day.  I always watch Game Day.  I watched it in Arizona earlier this year, when came on at 7am, and rumor has it we were up very late the night before.  When the Cowboys lose big games, I like to pretend they never happened.  This is the same approach I've been using my whole life, and it works perfectly.

In all seriousness, that was such a hard day in general.  I don't know a Cowboy fan who didn't have a heavy heart.  I won't make excuses for the team, although I have about 3 viable ones.  Iowa State was well coached, we were flat, and I discovered refs don't call holding on Fridays.  So we lost, and all of Cowboy Nation was left deflated.

My analysis is as follows: I thought we played with very little fire and didn't make the plays to win. Pretty simple. I think the turning point was the onside kick. Having an undefeated season was something I've never experienced before as a fan.  It felt weird.  I was uncomfortable.  And then we came back down to Earth.  What is there to say?  National Championship chances are now over, and the national media broke up with Brandon Weeden, by leaving him a voicemail.  Rude.

And then Saturday happened, and my frown turned upside down.  Thanks to Clemson, Oregon and OU, we're still in this race.  A tip of the hat to you.  I'd like to buy you all a drink.

So here we sit: waiting, watching.  Will things fall in our favor?  Probably not.  But for one day of my life, I guess I'm an Auburn fan?  I already own lots of orange, so I'm all set in that respect.  I don't know any of their cheers, except for "War Eagle!"  I don't know what that means, but I guess I'll just sit in my living room and yell, "War Damn Eagle!" when things get going.  I have two friends who are Alabama fans, so this all makes me feel a little guilty.  I don't think they read this blog, so I'm probably in the clear.

We'll get to the post-season talk after Bedlam...oh Lord, Bedlam.  People keep asking me what my thoughts are.  Well, I think about throwing up when it's mentioned.  Do we have the ability to win?  Yes.  Do they have the ability to play their best game to date?  Yes.  Is there a possibility that a kid who no one has heard of will have 300 + all purpose yards for OU?  Yes. It's a toss up.  I will admit, I will be completely devastated if we lose.  Husband announced the other day, "I fully expect you to cry, one way or another."  Excellent observation, big guy.

I just don't want to even speculate.  All bets are off when it comes to playing OU.  They always play well against us.  Stoops always looks like a freaking genius.  They have our number.  AND...the very most important piece of the pie....wait for it.... Kathy has bad luck.  Dark storm clouds hang over her head on a pretty regular basis and rain crimson and cream on her orange life every fall.

Before this season began, I decided I was going to be a different kind of fan.  A fan who didn't accept defeat, a fan who demanded excellence.  So, I say: This is our game to lose.  We have the talent.  We have the coaching.  And we've put ourselves in this position...to win.    We can choose to win, or choose to get beat.  I choose to win.  That's right, the girl who sits in 104 who yells too loud and screams, "Holding!" after every OSU defensive play, wants to win.  She demands to win.  She NEEDS to win.  No pressure.

Go Pokes!  And War Damn Eagle!

Meh...doesn't matter to me

Happy Thanksgiving, people!  Thanks for stopping by and reading this blog.  I'm thankful for that.

I've discovered that the new thing, the hip thing, the in-crowd thing to do, is to post on Facebook or Twitter what you are thankful for this Thanksgiving.  Sure I have plenty to be thankful about, but I don't like to be like everyone else.  I like to stand out.  I'm a maverick.  A Thanksgiving maverick.  A rogue turkey, if you will. 

If you have ever read this blog before, you know that I'm super opinionated.  I spend a lot of time writing/talking about things I love (Oklahoma State, shoes, college basketball, burritos, etc) and things I hate (passive aggressive people, birds, possums, coconut, liars, etc).  So in honor of all the pilgrims, Native Americans, and the Mayflower, I'd like to write about all the things I'm indifferent towards.  Enjoy.   Or don't.  Doesn't make much difference to me, I'm indifferent.

Raisins.  *Shrug* Don't hate 'em.  Don't love 'em.  I think oatmeal raisin cookies are an attempt to trick people.  Everyone knows that the preferred cookie is chocolate chip.  I like raisins when they are fresh and plump, you know, when they are still grapes.  And I like wine, which is made from grapes, so I guess that's a correlation.  But in general, I could take them or leave them.

The color yellow.  Whatever.  Doesn't affect Kathy's mood one way or another.  I own two yellow shirts, but I never seem to be tan enough to wear them.  I'm not sure what skin tone can pull off yellow, but it's not, "you kind of look ill due to the paleness of your skin" that I'm rocking.  I think yellow cars are obnoxious, but yellow accessories are cute.  Maybe it's because I have reached maximum capacity in the citrus colors category due to my allegiance to orange.  I don't see that changing anytime soon.  Mellow yellow indeed.

Hockey.  Hockey games are fun to attend.  However, I didn't know this until my 22nd year on Earth.  Oklahoma isn't really puck country.  I enjoy going to hockey games and being around hockey fans, but I would never seek out to watch a hockey game on television.  I don't really have a team either.  I adopted the Red Wings when I lived in Michigan because they were good and everyone else loved them.  Not a hard decision to make; I wanted to fit in.  Then I moved to Arizona, and they have a hockey team, or so they say.  But it's the desert where the average temperature is 173 degrees.  It's silly to have a hockey team on the surface of the sun, I can't get behind that.  I am not indifferent to Sidney Crosby, though.  Two thumbs up, buddy. 

And Pit Bull.  The singer/rapper/Daddy Warbucks look-a-like, not the dog breed.  I have no strong feelings toward him one way or another.  I couldn't tell you the name of one song he sings, but I know he seems to be on my television trying to get me to drink Dr. Pepper a lot.  He speaks a lot of Spanish, which is cool, but I only understand every fifth word.  Maybe if I ever go to a club again, I'll dance to a Pit Bull song.  Or maybe I won't.  I really can't say.  He elicits zero reaction from me.  He's like the Tavaris Jackson of hip hop.  His existence affects me none.

I could keep going, but I've bored myself.  Please add to the list: this blog entry.  Not great.  Not terrible.

Loyal and True

My first job out of college was working in an athletic department in Michigan.  Western Michigan to be exact.  I packed up and headed way up north to Kalamazoo, a city that I didn't know existed until I was called for an interview.  I have a lot of good memories from my time "up north" as I like to call it, but a memory that will always stick with me was the day I was called into a meeting and told my allegiance to Oklahoma State was bothersome to the rest of the staff.  I was stunned.  And a lot annoyed.  I honestly didn't understand.  Why wouldn't I be blindly devoted?  Didn't everyone adore their alma mater as much as I did?

I can't answer for any other school, but I feel like I can speak on behalf of my fellow Pokes.  Stillwater and Oklahoma State are like no other place on Earth.  They are intertwined, and I wouldn't have it any other way.  I am a Cowboy fan.  Football, basketball, wrestling, golf, baseball, soccer, you name it.  If we field a competitive team, I am cheering for them.  But above all else, I am an Oklahoma State fan: the school, the experience, the people.

There has never been a time I haven't been proud to be a Cowboy.  Ask anyone who knows me or who has had a conversation with me.  I will gladly talk your ear off about why OSU is so wonderful.  And any time I meet another Poke fan, I instantly like them.  Why wouldn't I?  They are cheering for the good guys, ergo they are instantly my friend.  No questions asked.

When tragedy strikes, as it did last night to the Oklahoma State women's basketball team, there really aren't words.  I am heartsick.  I'm pissed.  And I'm proud.  I'm proud of the devotion the entire Oklahoma State family has to one another.  I pray that everyone remembers the families.  And the team.  My God, the team.  How will they ever make sense of this?  It is quite possible, that people might think I'm crazy, because I have an overwhelming urge to hug anyone who is affiliated with OSU.  So watch out.

I'm not directing this blog to anyone in particular, just a little cathartic writing.  But I offer up this to the man upstairs: Thanks for letting us have Coach Budke, Miranda Serna, and the Branstetters.  Take good care of them.  You'll probably be surprised how much orange they wear, it's just what we Pokes do.

Tid bits

So many things to cover and only one little ol' blog to do it in, so let's not waste anymore time.

Penn State: Okay, I have a lot of opinions, as does everyone on this subject, so I'll save my sermon for another day.  I will, however, say this.  When you see a crime occuring, you should report it to the authorities.  That is what they are there for.  Being the upstanding citizen that I am, I have called the cops multiple times...all of these times happened to be when I lived in Arizona.  That's what I like to call "big city living."  One time, my dog tried to eat street drugs.  I managed to wrangle them out of his mouth, and then carried them home.  My thinking was, if they dog gets sick from eating crank, I want to have a sample for the vet.  Then I got very scared that 1.) I now had illegal drugs in my home which is against the law and 2.) If the junkie who lost them in the park saw me pick them up, he could have followed me home.  Oh boy, what's a Kathy to do?  I called the vet, then the non-emergency police number.  The police told me to just get rid of them.  So I waited until it was dark and made Husband throw them in the dumpster.  Another time, I witnessed a young man break down the door of the condo next to our's.  Kathy called the cops, cops showed up, and determined the young man was hammered and couldn't find his keys, so he broke down his door.  They determined this after they aroused him from his passed out state in the threshold of his home.  Sometimes, I really miss Arizona.  People out there really know how to live.  The point of all of this is that it is your duty as an adult to report crime.  Shame on those of you who don't.  You can't just expect someone else to do the right thing.  You have to.  Silence is a crime, too.

Matt Leinart.  The following conversation happened tonight, and I thought it was very annoying.
Husband: So Schaub is out for the season
Kathy: I know, I saw that.  But I believe in the power of a pretty quarterback.
Husband: Lots of haters on Leinart.
Kathy: I think he's a good QB.  He has the talent..... Do they have to flip the line around?
Husband: *snicker*
Kathy: Why are you scoffing?  That's not a stupid question.
Husband: No.  I guess it's not.  But no, they wouldn't flip the line around.  I'm more surprised you knew he was left handed.
Kathy: Everyone knows he's left handed.  Who doesn't know he's left handed?
Husband: I'd guess less than 2% of women know that.
Kathy: But we're talking about me.
Husband: Do you want credit or not for me being impressed?
Kathy: I want credit when I know something amazing, not when I know something obvious.  I also want to know how the guy who isn't used to protecting the blindside is going to adjust.
Husband: I can't win.
Kathy: No, you can't.

On a side note, I really do believe in beautiful quarterbacks.  They are good for America.

And finally, there seems to be a mystery brewing at our house.  Last week I found a receipt from Tatermash in Tulsa on our bedroom floor.  What is Tatermash?  Who went there?  Why is their receipt on my floor?  Husband I have not been to Tulsa since September, and as far as we remember, we did not go to Tatermash.  Then, yesterday, I was sorting through a stack of bills and stuff that needed to be thrown away and came across a movie ticket stub to the movie Prom Night.  I haven't seen Prom Night, and neither has Husband.  What is going on?  Do we have a ghost?  A ghost who likes potatoes and bad movies?  Is Mr. Bojangles sneaking out at night on late night food runs?  Is our little boy growing up and going on dog dates behind our back?  I'm so confused.

BCS Breakdown

Please note the message being sent with this picture.  OSU punching Mizzou.  See ya later, suckers.  Do not let the door hit you on the way out.

First things first, NO ONE wants a rematch of LSU vs. Alabama.  No one.  Only the media, not the public.  If I want to watch a field goal competition, I'll catch the local Punt, Pass and Kick contest.  America likes scoring.  Offense.  My Cowboys score in bunches, and because they like to make the viewers happy, they let the other teams score a lot too.  Win, win.

I'd also like to admit that Kathy got a little big for her britches.  And no, I'm not talking about stuffing her face with too much Taco Bueno.  I'm talking about her cocky tweeting in regards to the Oklahoma State Cowboys.  My bad, people, my bad.  It won't happen again.  You know that phrase, "Act like you've been here before"?  Well, I've never been here, so I'm at a loss.

As far as the Oklahoma State game, I knew we were in for a weird night when the following things occurred:

1. Two old ladies tried to kick us out of our seats.  They did not believe us when we told them that we were in row 7, not row 6.  One woman had clearly mastered the stink eye in her 185 years on Earth, because she gave it to the entire family.  They begrudgingly left the aisle and then stood at the end and stared.  Finally, Brother turned to her and said, "This is row 7.  We've sat here for 15 years, we know where our seats are."  See, I come by this attitude naturally, it's in my DNA.  Listen up, Maxine.  Instead of storming into your very first game and demanding people move, you might politely ask, "Can you tell me if I'm in the right location?"  We would have kindly told you, "No, but let me help you."  Can't catch these flies with vinegar.  We like honey.
2. The guy behind me told me my purple phone cover was what was causing OSU to play poorly.  I did the math, I believe this statement to be highly unlikely.  I dress my dog in an OSU jersey, I have a four foot tall Pistol Pete in my yard, I have an OSU license plate,  I've worn the same outfit since the A&M game, and I wear orange every Friday.  I'm doing my part.  
3. There was a teenager in front of us who a.) did not cheer at all b.) didn't like other people cheering and c.) was confused about why she was even there.  I, too, was confused why she was there.  I was also confused why she turned around and looked at me every time I yelled.  I'm Kathy and I yell at sporting events.  That's what I do.  In fact, every other person in the 59,000 crowd was yelling...except for the preteen.  We should have been staring at her.

All of these factors made for an interesting night.  But we won.  I aged 15 years.  And it's on to the next one.

Finally can we address Stanford?  And the love affair the media has with Andrew Luck.  Is it because he looks like Jesus?  Is that the selling point?  Because his team has only beaten two teams with winning records.  A win over Oregon State does not a National Champion make.  And my quarterback has 788 more passing yards than you do.  And he doesn't have a freaky neck  beard.  

We get it.  Super smarties go to your school, and you have a Christmas tree as your mascot.  Your tree  happens to look like an arts and craft project gone wrong, but maybe that's a west coast thing.  If you look closely, you'll see that the tree wears cargo pants.  I can't take anything serious in cargo pants.  Unfortunately, high IQ scores do not translate to higher BCS rankings.  I don't hate on the Pac 12, I have nothing but love for the Sun Devils.  But the bad teams in the Pac are BAD.  It's not your fault, but it's not our fault either.  Blame Mike Stoops.  Until then, you and Kellen Moore can talk about how unfair life is, leave the winning to the rest of us.  And on that note, Go Ducks.

So there you have it, my completely unbiased opinion.  Back to Reece in the studio.

Kathy's Korner, Football Edition

You know what I like about this picture?  The fact that only one kid has his name on his jersey.  He is either a. the coach's son b. the best player on the team.  "Look out for Fredrickson, he'll light you up." or c. He's a total jerk.  Not a team player.

Okay, so I have a few readers who have professed to not be sports fans.  My sports-themed blogs are somewhat lost on them.  For that I apologize.  I try to not only focus on sports, as there are other things I'm interested in, like shoes and funny animals, and crazy people.  But for today, I want to talk about the gridiron. 

In no particular order, these are Kathy's thoughts on football at this very point in time.

1. Sure wish there was more coverage on LSU vs. Bama.  I can't find anything out there.  Doesn't anyone else recognize the implications of this game?  Sheesh.
2. This season, thus far has been surreal for me.  I don't even like to write/talk about it in the fear that I'm going to ruin it.  Seriously,  I feel like I snuck into the party and am waiting to get kicked out.  So I'm just drinking my appletini quietly, hoping no one will notice me.  That being said, here are my observations on OSU thus far:

• Kirk Herbstreit...c'mon man.  Enough already.  Get on the bus, your seat is getting cold.  I would like to point out that Herbie picked UofA and Mike Stoops to be the "team to watch" and "sleeper team" for the last six seasons.  And they NEVER were.  Mike Gundy = good coach, knows what he's doing, making history.  Mike Stoops = crazy person, unemployed, and looks like Barney Rubble.  We're the real deal, Herbie. This is THE OSU. 
• There is currently a tattoo pact spreading about that is contingent on Oklahoma State winning the national championship.  I guess if we do win, we're supposed to get tattoos.  Am I a bad fan if I opt out?  How about a temporary tattoo?  My mom told me that she would disinherit me if I got another tattoo...and I believe her.  Also, God bless the South, but there are a lot of Bear Bryant tattoos floating around out there, and I like to make fun of those.
• There are people who sit around us at home games that really don't know much about football.  It makes me angry.  Yelling, "That's so predictable, Gundy!" on the second play of the game, is ridiculous.  And groaning because we go three and out when we are up by 49 is a bit much.  Learn the game, people.
• As the season progresses, I get more and more nervous for games.  It usually starts on Wednesday and lasts until the beginning of the 4th quarter on Saturday, depending on how we play.  I need to get a grip.  I also manically retweet postive OSU tweets.  I'm obsessed.  Must stop.
3. The football universe is not allowing me to have too much success.  Due to my Cowboys' historic season, my fantasy football teams are taking the hit.  Good lord.  It's not pretty.  Tony Romo won't throw to Dez Bryant, Kevin Kolb isn't good, Tim Tebow only throws Hail Mary's and never 10 yard out routes...all of things are affecting my four teams.  Current standings: 9th, 4th, 9th, and 5th.  OSU better make it to a BCS bowl, because my fantasy pride is bruised. Sad Kathy.
4. Watching football with dogs isn't great.  When I get nervous during a televised game, I stand.  Teams play better when Kathy is on her feet pacing back and forth.  This causes Mr. Bojangles to think I am either going somewhere or ready to play.  Bark, bark, bark.  When Kathy and/or Husband yells during football games, dogs like to get in on the action.  We learned this a couple of weekends ago when we were dog sitting and ASU was playing...poorly.  Husband yells, Kathy yells, dogs go crazy.  Must formulate new plan.

So that's it.  Those are my thoughts.  I won't say that my entire life's happiness depends on a Bedlam win....but I may never smile again if we don't win. 

Can I have the definition please?

I feel like I should confess something.  I feed my dog fortune cookies.  I know that I shouldn't.  But he really likes them, and I really like the crunching sound he makes as he gobbles them up.  I also like to read him his fortune.  We had Chinese food tonight, it was delicious.  Mr. B's fortune said he would be called upon to help a friend in need.  Good luck with that...that dog only looks out for number one.

Fortune cookies, however, is not the point of this blog.  So let's all gather ourselves and refocus.

I've done a lot of DVR catching up the last couple of days.  And you know what that means, an Intervention  marathon.  I love Intervention.  And I love watching eight in a row.  It really gets my mind right.  I'm starting to think that I should invest some time in watching a marathon of Hoarders.  The direct result would more than likely be an incredibly clean home by Kathy.

So there is an underlying theme to all Intervention episodes.  And no, it's not addiction.  It's that "defining moment," that each person showcased dwells on.  The thing that happened to them that made them into the crazy drunk meth faces they are today.  In a not so surprising twist, most of their defining moments are bad.  Very, very bad.  It got me thinking though, does the bad stuff have to be your defining moment?  Can't something wonderful and amazing be your defining moment ?  I think the answer is yes.

So what is Kathy's defining moment?  What makes her so unique?  What explains her moxie?  Side note: I was told once on a train from Paris that I had a lot of moxie.  It was a guy from Tampa who asked me if we had cell phones in Oklahoma.  We had a quick discussion about what a ridiculous question that was and the conclusion was drawn that Kathy had a lot of moxie.

I believe these three things could be my defining moments:

1. Oklahoma State wins the National Championship in football/basketball.  It has not happened in my lifetime.  But it will, oh it will.  Could be this year, might be when I'm in my 60s, but by God, it will happen.  I cannot express in words how much this will mean to me.  And at this moment, I will not.  I have no intentions of jinxing anything.  It could also happen when I'm old as the hills, and they win, and then the very next day I die.  I read a Sports Illustrated article after the Red Sox won the 2004 World Series about different Sox fans stories.  One lady was like 120, or something like that.  She was a diehard Sox fan, and was on her death bed, but vowed to everyone that she would not die until they won.  And they did, and then she died the next day.  Awesome. She went out with a victory.  Kathy wants the same....and to be buried in orange.
2. Seeing drunk monkeys in Africa.  This is the best story I have in my material.  I can tell it to anyone and it's always a hit.  Okay, one time it wasn't a hit, but that person has no sense of humor.   I'm not a miracle worker, people.   So in turn, this encounter lead to me starting to blog and tell my stories on the interwebs.  All thank you cards can be sent to Zambia.
3. The day my dad told me I could be anything I wanted to be.  I was young.  And I believed him.  And I still do...  I like to credit that childhood pep talk to my constant thinking, "If she/he can do it, so can I."  Thanks, Pops.  In my old age I'm losing hope that I can still be an ESPN anchor or an astronaut.  There is, however, still time for me to claim my self as a writer and/or photographer.  There's still hope.

So that's that.  Who wants bad stuff to define them?  Only Debbie Downer.  Not Kathy, she's always on the lookout for that silver lining....actually, I'm on the lookout for an orange lining.  Everything is prettier in orange.  Go Pokes!

Take a walk on the wild side

I have to admit, the title of this blog was inspired by the Motley Crue classic, "Wild Side."  Remember Motley Crue?  Big hair band of the 80s and 90s, now perform at casinos and state fairs.  My brother was a big Motley Crue fan in his adolescence.  Parents thought they were devil worshippers.  Standard operating procedure in Kathy's childhood.  For the record, I do think Vince Neil is harmless.  The only danger he poses is to the ozone layer with his use of hairspray.

Speaking of Kathy, it has been a BIG week for her.  Two email responses to Kath, even though Katie is the one who originally sent them.  Weird.  But the best moment came while I was wearing a name tag that clearly read "Katie" yet, still I was called Kathy.  I cannot explain this phenomenon.

But let's get to the point, shall we?  I frequent a very shady gas station at least two or three times a week. It's the closest one to my work, and I like their $1.19 jumbo Diet Cokes.  There is, however, a very strong chance that I will get shanked one day if I continue this practice.  What can I say?  I live dangerously.  Welcome to Kathy's life on the edge.

As I waited in line yesterday, I observed another patron who was either a crackhead or on meth.  I wondered to myself, "Do crack heads know how crazy they come across?"  I bet they don't.  I feel like they would reign it in a bit, if they had any idea.  This fine citizen payed for $7.26 worth of gas in change.  She rocked back and forth and was twitching.  I could not turn my eyes away.

Not wanting to be victim to a violent act, I turned my attention to my surroundings.  I noticed the pregnancy tests that sit right next to the gourmet jerky, and the fake flowers in their own stand.  And then of course there is my nemesis, the life sized cut out in the corner.  Give or take a few years, I estimate this cutout was produced in 1993.  It's a lifeguard with feathery locks and a million-dollar smile.  He wants me to buy Bud Light.  He also scares me often.  I know he is there, yet he catches me off guard almost every time.  I do not like life size cutouts, with the exception of Elvira.  No beef with the Mistress of the Dark.

So I passed the hunky lifeguard and climbed into my car.  And then I did what I always do, I imagined the worst case scenario and formulated a plan.  If, on one of my bucket o' cola runs, a crime was to occur in said gas station, what would I do?  WWKD?  I'll tell you what Kathy would do, she would probably run.  If it was a small criminal holding up the store, I might try to knock him out with my purse.  But more than likely I would run.  I would catch a quick picture on my cell phone, for posterity, and then Kathy would be out the door.

No need to worry people.  I have an exit strategy.  Besides, if I eliminate these shady gas station runs, where will my material come from?  I love free entertainment.  I NEED that gas station in my life.

On a final note, I would encourage all of you to refrain from Google image searching the following phrase, "scary gas stations."  What is wrong with people out there?  The internets are a scary place....much like my gas station.

Fill 'er up.

I take my Gaddafi with a little sugar

So Gaddafi is dead.  I'm not sure if you heard or not, but he is dunnzo.  He was hanging out in the sewer, a guy with a golden gun found him, and that's all she wrote.

I have a few thoughts on this matter.

1. I won't claim to know as much as I should about Gaddafi.  I have a VERY general grasp on his reign in Libya.  But what I do know is that he was an evil-doing bad guy.  Everyone knows any evil ruler's one main goal is to destroy/take over the world.  All you have to do is watch any Austin Powers movie or Pinky and the Brain. So here, here NATO soliders/revolutionists/freedom fighters!  I really like the part of the story that he was shot with his own golden gun.  Straight out of a movie, my friends.  
2. Does it make anyone else uncomfortable that every citizen in Libya  owns a machine gun/uzi?  Gun control issues aside, does every person really need an automatic weapon?  I feel like the answer is no.  I am of course, a proponent of knife fights.  Much more West Side Story/Adventures in Babysitting.  Chinese stars are fun too.  And brass knuckles.  I remember seeing a guy at the Payne County Fair when I was a kid who was wearing brass knuckles.  Hooligans of Stillwater come prepared for battle...even to the fair.
3. I watched the clip of Secretary of State Hillary Clinton receive news of Gaddafi's death.  She remained pretty calm.  Two words: let down.  Would have really amped up the awesomeness if she would have started high fiving everyone in the room.  I would react that way.  I'd probably keep a little confetti in my pocket too, for just such an occasion.  Up high, down low, confetti.  Boom!  Ol' Hill doesn't strike me as a high fiver, which is okay by me, but maybe a fist bump or even a thumbs up would have taken that video from a 6 to an 11.

That's all.  Those are my thoughts on current events.  Don't you feel smarter?  You're welcome.

I apologize for lack of blogs lately.  It's amazing how being busy takes away time to write pithy blogs about nothing.  

Penny for your thoughts?

You know that old saying, "Penny for your thoughts?"  Well, here is a dime's worth.

1. Birds are rude.  I determined this as I watched a gaggle of geese fly over my neighborhood.  Several of these hooligans were pooping while flying.  Where is your decency?  That's what makes people different than birds: common courtesy.  That and wings.
2. I saw a bumper sticker on the way to work today that said, "Jesus loves Yoga."  On second glance, I realized it actually said, "Jesus loves You," but the crazy font looked like "yoga."  I like the first version better.  I might start making Jesus loves Yoga bumper stickers.
3. I'm immune to passive aggression.  When husband and I were at the airport a week or so ago, we took a seat while we waited.  An old curmudgeon said to her husband, "Every time I try to sit down, someone steals my seat."  I responded, "You should be faster."
4. I wondered last night if a raccoon would make a good pet.  They are so cute.  I really like that they are always dressed as burglars. 
5. The best thing to happen to me today was discovering that Clayton Kershaw (left handed pitcher for the Dodgers) is the great-nephew of the guy who discovered  Pluto.  The non-planet, not Mickey Mouse's pet.
6. It's weird that Mickey Mouse had a pet.  He was a mouse.  Mice don't have pets, that's just silly.
7. I heckled Husband at his softball game last night.  I really need to work on being more supportive.  In my defense, he needed to be more aggressive on the base path.
8. Had one of the most annoying phone conversations ever this afternoon.  To sum up the convo, this guy was talking to me about creating videos for YouTube to promote things.  Everything I said, he responded, "Rock on."  Then he asked me what song I might want to use.  I said, "Heart of a Champion."  Him, "Hmmm, so gospel?"  Me, "Um no.  Hip hop."  You don't know Nelly?  Were you born after 2004?  He later asked me if I wanted to give him a high five.  You clearly know nothing about Kathy, she doesn't high five.  Especially over the phone. Rock on aborted.
9. I put a yard sign in our yard advertising Mistletoe Market.  You should go by the way, it's next weekend.  The next day I came home and there was another sign.  I was confused.  That's not really how it's supposed to work.
10. Today Husband emailed me about s'mores.  He made a slight typo: "You know I know s'mores."  I responded by asking, "When did you meet?"  He wrote back and said, "I take it back, s'mores are quiet.  I am not sure anyone can really KNOW them."  Very witty.  When other people make witty comments, I am instantly amused, and then annoyed that I didn't make the joke myself.

I'm thinking my next blog should be a point/counterpoint with Odd Holler...anyone interested?

So, I was thinking...

Hey there, friend.  I've been on sabbatical.  Did you miss me?  I sure missed you.

In all honesty, I have approximately six blogs I could write with the material I've acquired, but no one likes super long blogs, so I'll just give you a few of my thoughts, feelings and reflections.  Don't you worry your pretty little heads, though.  I can always expand on any topic, just raise your hand. (This blog ended up being really long anyway, sorry).

Now let's begin...

It is quite possible that I have missed my calling.  I think I might have been destined to be an actress.  I just seem to be a little more dramatic than most people.  I had an ah-ha moment last week when I was emailing Husband, and I actually shrugged while writing, shook my head and then smiled while hitting send.  Seriously.  I perform when no one is watching.  Today, I wrote an email I was so pleased with, I ended it with "Here, here!"  And raised my Nalgen water bottle in a toast.  I was all by myself, in my office.  I should be in the theater...my talents are being wasted in Oklahoma.

Husband and I visited Arizona last weekend.  Nice little mini-vacay.  Enjoyed that beautiful brisk Arizona fall...107 and rising.  On our flight back, I looked out the window at the Will Rogers World Airport.  Much to my dismay, I saw the bag handler throwing boxes from the cargo area onto a cart.  Why, you might be wondering, would this bother me so?  Well, this woman was chucking boxes labeled, "EXTREMELY FRAGILE" "LIVE TROPICAL FISH INSIDE" "THIS END UP"  Yet, she was not being gentle, and had blatant disregard for the arrows for which end was up.  A co-worker came over and joined in her shenanigans.  I then took a picture.  Which caught the attention of one of the bag handlers.  He didn't looked pleased.  I felt a little nervous, then reminded myself and Husband, "I'm a journalist.  I'm just doing my job."  Lesson learned: Don't ship your live, fragile tropical fish via Southwest.  Outlook is cloudy.

We were watching Parenthood the other night in which a rat made a cameo appearance.  I announced the following, "If we ever had a rat in this house, I would move out.  I would leave immediately and never come back."  Husband informed me that, "That's a little dramatic, even for you."  That's fine.  He and the rat can sit and talk about how dramatic Kathy is...should be a great conversation.  Best of luck to you both.

And finally, I would like to share with you how we spent our Saturday night.  ASU was playing late, kickoff approximately 9:36 pm.  We had to go to the local watering hole, because it wasn't being shown on any of our 700 cable channels.  Here's to you Cox cable, for showing the Duke vs. Florida International game, but not a top 25 game.  Top notch selection.  Anywho, we strolled into Buffalo Wild Wings, where we were surrounded by the local crowd who had just watched their team dismantle the Fighting Football Cardinals.  People had imbibed, they were all a little saucy.  Husband and I were the only two people in the bar watching football and dressed in bright yellow.  Much to our surprise, BWW turns into a rowdy karaoke bar at 10pm.  Saddle up, it's about to get real.  It was awful karaoke, with an abundance of country cheatin' music.  The bouncer and his girlfriend, who insisted on being called Sassy, literally laid on our table while caressing each other.  And to top it all off, ASU was playing very, very poorly.  Husband was getting angrier and angrier by the moment.  I was extremely amused.  It was a sitcom moment, the audience at home would have been rolling.  It's hard to say what the best moment was.  Could have been when a young lady in sexy tight clothes sang, "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree," and ended her melody with, "Two months people, two months."  Or it could have been when a guy who claimed to play football at OSU sang, badly, "Here and Now," and a couple who was very much in love slow danced while he sang. Gold, pure gold.  Can't make this stuff up.  We did find the worse the karaoke, the better ASU played.  So when Evanescence came on, I knew we had a 90-yard touchdown pass in store.  Devils won.  And I laughed.  Good times.  I'll see you all there on Saturday night.

Oh and for those keeping track at home, I went 2-2 in Fantasy this week.  Got a little cocky.  Don't worry, Kathy is humble once again.

Gaaa, you're such a snob

Last week in a meeting, I was confronted with my least favorite type of person at the moment: a Twitter snob.  Believe me when I tell you, they are the WORST.  I was poo-pooed because of the number of followers I have.  In a meeting.  At work.  And then the following statement was said to me, "I spend all day on Twitter."  Um...do you remember this a work meeting, not happy hour?  Good for you and all your followers.  No need to snort your judgment at me.  Kathy does not approve.

There are all kinds of snobs out there, some I support, some I get very annoyed with.  So, in true Kathy fashion, I'll outline the worst kinds, and the ones I support.  You should know that the ones I support are the ones I agree with.  For I am a snob too.

THE WORST

1. Music snobs.  Seriously, we get it.  You only appreciate quality music.  You knew about that band way before they went mainstream.  Pop music annoys you, there's no musicality.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Got it.  I like pop music.  It's fun.  It's short for "popular."  You know who was considered pop musicians?  The Beatles.  And The Jackson 5.  You got something bad to say about Tito or Ringo?  No, I didn't think you did.  Just appreciate it for what it is.  
2. Wine/beer snobs.  We all know them.  They are annoyed by those of us who lack distinguished palates.    I didn't get to take Wine Tasting in college and I feel like that was my only shot.  Here is the thing, I actually applaud people who really know about wine.  But those of us who don't aren't losers or creetens.  We are from Oklahoma.  And our dad's drank Coors Light.  Beer snobs on the other hand reside in the north.  Where it always snows and the sun never shines.  Yes, I'm talking about Michigan.  If you order a Bud Light in Michigan, the record scratches and the room goes silent.  It's really quite ridiculous.  Michigan is apparently Miller Lite country.  Kathy stands firmly by her motto of "It's all yellow."
3. TV snobs.  I have had several friends who are TV snobs.  Or lack-of-tv snobs.  They say things like, "I don't have cable."  Or "I only watch Nat Geo."  Well good for you.  But I think that is dumb.  You aren't actually better than other people because you don't watch TV.  Frankly, I think it's weird.  Unless you are crunchy and granola and spend all your time outside with the squirrels.  In that case, you are better than me.  You'd be amazed what that magical box can teach you.  Embrace it.  Don't let all of Phil Farnsworth's hard work go to waste.

ACCEPTABLE SNOBBERY

1. Travel snobs.  I'm a travel snob.  I openly admit it.  It really comes out when I fly Southwest.  Why is lining up in numerical order so difficult for the general population?  They are numbers.  They go from smallest to biggest.  Someone should have taught you this in kindergarden.  The only way it could be easier is if your name was written on a piece of tape on the floor.  But if you haven't heard, times are tough, and we can't afford that.  So every single Southwest flight, there are people wandering around super confused about where to stand and where to go.  And these people always seem to cut in line.  You aren't allowed to cut.  No cutsies.  You should have learned that in kindergarden too.
2. Sports seats snobs.  Okay, here is the deal, this specific snobbery was hatched in the fact that I have been very lucky to be born into a family that loves sports and has season tickets to everything.  Yay family!  So when you get used to sitting close enough to hear the coaches cuss at the players, it is almost impossible to adjust to far-away seats.  Kathy has tried, and Kathy just cannot sit in the nosebleeds.  It causes her soul to die.  True story.  So I have a certain standard, and I refuse to give in.  There is only one small flaw in this snobbery... Kath doesn't have the funds to support such tastes.  Damn my champagne tastes on a Bud Light diet.  I tried watching my Cowboys once at a bar, but when I yelled, "Stop juking and just run forward!" loudly, everyone stared.  Even the bartender.  Whoopsie.  While Craigslist can be scary (see Lifetime) a bargain shopper such as myself can find a good deal on tickets.  Until I do finally win the lottery (fingers crossed) tracking down affordable good seats via the internets is in the cards for Kathy and Husband.  The only time I waiver on this standard is when I'm attending sporting events in which I could care less who wins.  I cheer for the home team with the locals.  Good times.
3. Shoe snobs.  Everyone should be a shoe snob.  It's what God would want.  Ugly shoes are bad.  Crocs are bad.  Shoes are the one thing in your closet that are guaranteed to fit, and that should make you feel good about yourself.  Unless you are victim to a growth spurt.  I keep hoping that I'll have another growth spurt.  I even measured myself in my office today.  I was waiting for my computer to update itself, I was listening to Adele and bored out of my mind (this was after hours so no need to report this to the authorities).  So I used my tape measure....still 5'8 1/2" I want to be 5'9".  I think I can then officially refer to myself as tall.  I'll keep you posted on my progress.  And in case you forgot what my original point was, it happens, shoes are important.  It's important to care about them.  Caring is sharing.

So there you go.  I ask this of you during National Friendship Week (it's not really National Friendship Week, but let's just all pretend) when someone doesn't know as much as you or like the same things you do, remember that they aren't wrong.  They are just different.  Different isn't bad, it's just different.  Maybe instead of hating on Twitter novices, you could just take them under your wing and be helpful.  Help those baby birds fly.  See what I just did there?  Twitter? Wings? Baby Birds?  Genius.

Tuesdays with Teddy

Not to be confused with Tuesdays with Morrie.  You will not get the same warm fuzzies from me that Morrie gave you.  But I will tell you that, Tuesdays with Teddy might become a regular column.  Let's see how the first one goes, shall we?

First, let's discuss the name.  This morning on the phone, I was referred to as "Teddy."  And this was someone I have had multiple conversations with.  So, that's that.  Kathy, Peggy, and Teddy.  None of those are Katie.  I give up.

The most important thing that happened today was that first thing I did out of bed was confirm  my status in fantasy football.  For those playing along at home, I went 4-0.  Yep, undefeated.  I won in the all-male league.  My victory was rewarded with profanity on the league's site.  As we have already established, I am a lady.  A dainty, proper lady who would never repeat the things these men write.  But that doesn't mean I don't enjoy it.  I'm a winner.  I beat boys.  I am awesome.  Go, Teddy, Go!

Then I cried at work.  I'm just so upset over this conference realignment talk.  Why can't they make a decision?  In all seriousness, I was emailing with a friend who is amazing and needs to be told as much.  So as I typed out my electronic pep talk, tears sprung to my eyes.  I blame this on either a.) I may be a  little too sensitive or b.) the middle of the night football game I attended on Saturday/Sunday is still seriously affecting me.  Why am I still so tired?  It was three days ago.  Is this what being in your 30s is like?  Frick.

And finally, the absolute highlight of the day (sans the Glee premiere tonight) was when Google revealed to me that karma does exist.  I love you Google, I really, really do.  Now how do I explain this to you, my loyal readers, without actually telling you what happened.  I do not condone talking badly about people on the interweb.  Not real people, people that I actually know.  Hiding behind your computer saying mean things about people is bad.  Unless its about Manu Ginobili or Phillip Rivers.  That's not bad, it's right.  Go forth.  Okay, back to my karma story, I'm going to try to be very vague, and I might just make some details up.  But don't you worry, I will tell the whole story one day when I finish my book.  Until then, this is all I can say.

Back in the day I had a very negative person in my life.  This person was like every Disney bad guy ever.  Ursula, Cruella Deville, Scar, Jafar, all of them.  This person had an evil cackle, flared nostrils, and just bad mojo.  I thought when we parted ways, the Evil One would be out of my life.  But it never works this way, now does it?  Evil One kept doing evil things that were affecting me. What's a Kathy to do?  I spent a lot of time praying for lightening strikes.  But every time I researched or internet creeped, it seemed as though great things were continuing to happen to Evil One.  Why universe?  Why?  It's not fair.  So today, as I was working on something else, I happened to come across a lead.  I like to use journalism terms to justify my obsessive compulsive fact-finding.  

Anyway, I have no idea why I never Googled Evil One's name.  Seriously, Kathy, you should be ashamed of yourself.  So I Googled, and Shazam!  Gold, pure internet gold!  Evil One got what was coming, via the long arm of the law.  Oh happy day!  I couldn't stop smiling.  I called my mom.  I emailed Husband.  I emailed my friend the Sexy Mex.  I could not withhold my joy.  And then I started to worry.  If I take joy out of karma coming around, will that result in bad karma for me?  No, no, no!  That is not the plan.  Bad things should happen to bad people.  And why can't I enjoy that?  I deserve it.  Evil One tortured me.  Why can't I enjoy their name popping up in Google as a criminal?  Why universe?  Why?

I need someone, way more enlightened than I am, to explain the rules of karma to me.  I need to know if it's okay for me to relish in this.  What if I just relish in it for a short time?  Let's say four days.  I took Asian Philosophy in college and this was not on the test.

**Editor's note: You can actually tell the level of my excitement by the number of exclamation marks I used.  I never use them.  I don't believe in them.

Conclusions Drawn

I thought when I searched for an image about "drawing conclusions" I'd get a clever play on words, like a pencil drawing the word "conclusion." Instead, I found this.  You know what I learned from this graphic?  That bears can run 40 miles per hour.  Conclusion drawn: Kathy doesn't know all there is to know about bears.

I'm going to share some things with you all this afternoon about observations I've made and the conclusions I have drawn from those observations.  I wish I would have thought of diagramming these conclusions, but alas I did not.

Yesterday on the Today Show, Dr. Oz tried to tell me that apple juice contains poison.  Matt Lauer raised some serious flaws in his theory, yet he held firm.  Conclusions drawn: Dr. Oz is annoying and his face seems to be pulled too tight.  Everyone loves apple juice, why are you ruining it for us?  I will drink apple juice in spite of him.

I went home for lunch the other day and came across an article on Yahoo! that challenged people to live without their credit card and cell phone for a day. "That wouldn't be that hard," I thought.  Then I went back to work and realized I left my phone at home.  Conclusion drawn: I seem to be susceptible to subliminal advertising.  Reminded me of that Saved by the Bell episode when Zack Morris put the subliminal message in the song to convince Kelly to be his Valentine.  Oh Preppy, you were such a rascal.

I check my blog stats pretty regularly.  It feeds my ego.  Deal with it.  Here is what is very odd, back in July I wrote a blog about posters on my wall.  I included a little segment about Kriss Kross.  Well that blog continues to get hits...every day...in the U.K. I can see what phrase people are searching, and that phrase on google.uk is "kriss kross."  Conclusion drawn: Kriss Kross is making a comeback oversees and I may be the only person in the States aware of it.  Until now.  Spread the word.

The other night I got sucked into watching America's Next Top Model All-Star Shoot Out.  Okay, I don't actually know the official name, but it was something like that.  Conclusion drawn: Everyone on that show is an idiot.  Jay Manuel was dressed identical to Fred from Scooby Doo, ascot and all.  Even though this show has been on for 45 years and has yet to produce a "Top Model," they all seem to think this will be their big break.  And Tyra Banks is the most annoying person on the planet.   Do you know she wrote a children's book about a little girl who was so pretty she had special powers and could smile with her eyes?  She did.  You should hate her like I do.  And the final conclusion drawn from this is that I'm the biggest idiot of them all for letting Tyra Banks steal 60 minutes of my life and little piece of my soul.

I just proof read this blog.  Conclusion drawn: I am incredibly skilled at finding a topic that has absolutely nothing to do with anything, and making it into "something."  Something good?  Yet to be determined.  But definitely something.

Happy Friday!  Go Pokes!