You, my dear, are no lady

This past March, I was told that I am not very "lady-like."  My first reaction was, "Hmmm, that's not very appropriate."  Immediately followed by, "Yeah?  So what?"  Look, I wear heels at least four days a week, change my purses to match my outfit's color scheme, and have a little adorable dog.  If that doesn't make you lady-like, what does?

Well, the last 48 hours have made me re-evaluate my whole, "Kathy is a lady, dammit!" attitude.  It started yesterday when I became an official member of the Football Writers Association of America.  My first reaction was to email/facebook brag about my accomplishment.  And then instructed my husband to use this as a tipping point if ever cornered into discussing whose wife is more awesome.  He clearly wins, because his professionally gets to write about football.  Later in the evening, we were watching the  NBA draft.  The Phoenix Suns, husband's hometown team, picked Markief Morris.  I had some choice words concerning their pick.  I'm not a fan of either Morris brother.  I think they are cry babies and lack any sort of toughness.  You can't just make a stink face and run to Coach Self for a hug in the NBA, kid.  Best of luck to you...  Husband and I didn't agree.  As soon as someone becomes a Denver Bronco, Phoenix Sun, or Arizona Diamondback, he converts to a complete loyalist.  It's ridiculous really.  So a month out from our 4th Anniversary, we argued about toughness and ability to contribute at the professional level.  We agreed to disagree...which really means, I know I'm right, but I didn't feel like arguing anymore.

And that brings us to today...I found myself the only person in the office this afternoon.  How does a lady pass the time?  She listens to Too Short, of course.  Thanks to my random playlist, Too Short's Cocktails came on.  I was thrilled.  So much so, I listened to it twice.  As Short continued to spit offensive lyrics, I IM'd them to husband.  His response, "you are ridiculous."  Much to my surprise, a visitor walked into the office just as an extra innapropriate verse came on.  Color me embarrassed.  Whoopsie.  Yet, here I sit, wrapping up this work week, listening to a custom-made TuPac themed station on Pandora.  It's Friday, I honestly have no other choice.

I should probably go buy another purse tomorrow.  You know, just to balance everything out.

By the way, if you are wondering why I refer to my husband as "husband" it's because I don't see the need to pull him into my mess of a blog.  I like to protect the innocent.  He has to deal with me on a daily basis, he deserves a break now and then.  Gee, what  a nice lady I am!

Serenity Now!

You know how George Constanza yelled "Serenity Now!" to calm himself down?  I need something like that, but something that actually works.  Because let me tell you, totally losing it on customer service representatives isn't doing it for me.  Not one bit.

As you have read previous to this post, I've had a run of bad luck lately.  Give or take, it's been going on for about 32 years.  Anywho, yesterday I learned that despite spending all of last Thursday on the phone with Bank of America, they forgot to apply all of my "please don't let the crooks have my money" directions.  Cripes!  Yesterday's phone time included me yelling, "Why don't you have any sympathy for  what is going on?  Can I please talk to someone who is more sympathetic to my situation?"  Little Miss Sunshine said, "No."  Enraged, I hung up and realized, I am in desperate need of a stress reliever in my life.

I've thrown around some ideas, and I'm having no luck.

1. Running.  I hate running.  I don't really know why one would do it for "fun."  You should only be running to catch something, for your life, or away from danger.  Running for fun?  I don't think so.
2. Yoga.  I own Jillian Michael's Yoga DVD.  It is the farthest thing from relaxing as anything I've ever done in my whole life.  It is hard.  And intense.  The husband did it with me once.  Never again.  His exact quote, "This sucks.  I thought yoga was supposed to be enjoyable."  I'm going to guess that the only thing Jillian does in a relaxing manner is sleep, and I'm not totally convinced of that.
3. Scrapbooking.  Well... I'm not sure what I would scrapbook.  Just pics of me, husband and dog.  And that's what I use Facebook for anyway.  Besides all those scraps of extra paper stress me out.
4. Vacation.  I'd like to spend all of my time vacationing, but I haven't worked out the details as to how to get paid to do that all of the time.  Must do more research.  Research isn't relaxing.
5. Shopping.  I love shopping and I am GOOD at it.  However, due to my current situation, I don't have any money because the bad guys took it all.  Frack!

So as you can see, I've got nothing.  I might try to meditate, but I don't really have time.  Maybe I'll just stage a sit-in at Bank of America.  It may not be relaxing, but oh, what fun! 

Seriously though, I'm open to suggestions.

Hey pickle, where are your seeds?

I have a couple of questions that have absolutely nothing to do with each other, but I need answers.

First, for anyone residing in the state of Texas who is reading this, why does it cost so much to drive on your streets?  Seriously, I need an explanation.  And does my Garmin (I got a new one, we'll see how long that lasts) have a contract with the Texas Department of Transportation that it gets a kick back from guiding me to highways that cost $15 to travel?  After a quick visit to the Lone Star State this weekend, I feel like I put a hefty down payment on either tickets to Jerry World or a plaque in front of the Alamo.  Either one will suffice.

Second, why don't the pickles from McDonalds have seeds?  Where do they go?  Were they ever there? I like to order sandwiches with lettuce and pickles only.  I then inspect the lettuce, and 9 times out of 10, I pick it off because it's bush league.  Then I take the pickles off.  I like to think of them as a side.  It really amps up the sophistication level of the meal.  I have looked over a lot of pickles in my life.  And McDonalds offers pickles with no seeds.  What is going on here?  I'm suspicious.

And finally, is there ever really a need for life-sized cutouts?  I'm going to tell you the answer to this...no.  I hate life-sized cutouts.  They always catch me off guard and make my heart stop for a second.  I'm sure you are asking yourself, "Kathy, how often do life-sized cutouts really affect you?"  Well, the answer is too often.  Needs some examples?  I'm happy to oblige.

Just this afternoon, I had to go to Office Depot to purchase some folders.  As I turned the corner, who do you think was looming behind a display?  Tony Stewart.  He was hiding.  And he scared me.  What the hell is Tony Stewart doing in Office Depot anyway?  Shouldn't he be in a NAPA Autoparts store?  And then there is the gas station by my office that I frequent for $0.79 Diet Cokes.  Every time I leave, I glance to the right and each time a lifeguard circa 1995 catches my eye.  He wants me to buy Bud Light to add to my summer fun.  He stands way back in the corner all suspicious like...I don't trust him.  He and Tony Stewart are up to no good.  And then there was the one time I saw Justin Bieber at the mall.  Not the real Biebs, of course, but the life-sized cutout of him who was being carried through Dillards by a mom and her daughter.  This time, my heart really did stop.  Oh my God, WHAT is Justin Bieber doing in Oklahoma City?  And when did he get so tall?  I'm not afraid to admit that my heart was actually racing.  This would by far be the biggest celebrity sighting of my life.  A close second goes to the time I ate brunch next to Ross Gellar.  Oh and when the Sugar Hill Gang took the same Southwest flight to Kansas City as my family.  Hotel, motel, Holiday Inn.  But alas, I was duped once again by a life-sized cutout.  Where were they taking this thing?  And if you are going to carry Bieber around, you should carry him under your arm, not straight up and down as to confuse the general population.  Think about other people, will ya?  I just think they should be outlawed.  Is that too much to ask?  I think not.

See what I just did there? Totally justified.

I just bought a new purse.  Didn't need it.  Probably could go five more years without buying a new purse and be fine.  Did it anyway.  I'm a maverick.

But here is why it's okay and everyone should support my decision:

You might have heard, my life is completely inundated with sports.  I watch sports, I work in sports, I talk sports.  I listen to sports radio from 9 am until 5 pm Monday through Friday.  I shop talk about Mel Kiper and Phil Steele.  85% of the people I follow on Twitter are sports people: athletes, SIDs, sports writers, sports bloggers, and analysts.  I faithfully attended every sport Oklahoma State offers this year with the exception of tennis and cross country/track.  It's an illness.

But my masculine traits don't stop there.  I like to drink dark beer, cuss when necessary (it's usually necessary), and I'm pretty messy.  I really do like watching Sportscenter, playing Fantasy Football, eating corn dogs, and listening to NWA and Too Short on Pandora.  I'm a lot like a crass guy.

But here's the fun twist in the story... I love lots of girly stuff too.  Shoes, purses, new clothes, and pink.  However, I would never wear a pink jersey or sports shirt.  That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard of.  If you team's colors are blue/orange/black that's what you should be wearing.  Not pink.  You aren't five years old.  Suck it up.  I own 85 articles of orange clothing.  And it doesn't even look good on me, but I wear them with pride. Anyway, I like to think my love of high heels and purses balances out all my mainly qualities.

So today, with no sporting events in the near future, I bought an adorable new purse that I didn't need.   It's number 27 in my standard rotation.  I can hear your judgment...and frankly, I'm ignoring you

It's Friday, and Kathy has had enough

Let's get the introductions out of the way, shall we? I'm Katie. People call me Kathy. I don't know why, but they do. And as I learned a long time ago, you can't fight city hall. So this is my new blog. Follow along, should be a real blast.

Okay, now that we've covered that, let's get back to what's important. Me. And my horrible week. Well, actually, it's been two weeks filled with annoyances. I've tallied the votes, and both Katie and Kathy hate the month of June.

Last week, my window was bashed in and my purse and GPS were stolen from my car. Let's not dwell on the smarty pants who left her purse in the car, that's not the point, people. The point, is there is nothing more annoying than having to cancel/replace all the stuff, except dealing with customer service people. So inside my purse was my wallet, a camera, my car keys, and a checkbook. It's pretty amazing that the car itself wasn't stolen, considering they had the keys at their disposal. But as my mother pointed out, who would want to steal a car missing a window?

After changing the locks on our house, cancelling all credit cards and checks, getting a new licence, and replacing the window, I received some good news, my purse had been found. In a dumpster. Poor little purse, it probably had no idea what was going on. I figured these criminals were total idiots. All they wanted was the GPS and the purse was just a bonus. I didn't have any fraudulent charges on my cards, bank account was good to go, and now I had my purse and keys back. Hooray!

Not so fast. Got a call from Bank of America this week and was informed that someone is impersonating me. They are writing bad checks to me and endorsing them as me. Blast! These hooligans are smarter than I originally thought. And they have my social security number. Still haven't solved that mystery. I'm curious, what is Fake Katie like? Is she funny? Will she read my blog? How well does she dress? I mean, what if the Fake Katie is chucking along in Crocs, pleated pants, and a belly shirt? My lord, what if she's a Sooner fan? What will that do to my reputation?

Over the last week, due to the impersonating and need to alert every person in America of the situation, I've had more than my share of unpleasant conversations with customer service people. For your reading enjoyment, please find the following statements I made:
- Sir, I don't know what that means. Please stop reading from your script and tell me what the problem is.

- How would you explain this to your mother? That's how I want you to explain this to me.

- You're job is to provide customer service, and you are terrible at it.

- I must speak with someone else. Immediately!

- I'm serious, put me on the phone with someone else.

- You are doing a terrible job. I would like that put in your file.

That's right. I'm a curmudgeon. I also shake my cane at little kids on my lawn.

I need this weekend to be great. Let's all pull together and make that happen.