Wild Kingdom Presented by Not Kathy -- Part 2

Okay, let's finish this up, shall we?  Jump into the Land Rover and travel along as I sum up the final six animals.

El leon.  The lion.  King of the Jungle.  Master of his domain.  The lion did in fact live up to his reputation.  We saw a lot of lions.  Male ones.  Female ones.  Little ones that were too cute for words.  I even saw one who looked completely disheveled.  His mane was a mess, his face was all scratched up.  He reminded me of Scar.  I wonder if he speaks with a British accent as well.  We saw three different prides during our safari.  One was made up of 5 lionesses and 10 cubs, they had been abandoned by their male.  Deadbeat dad, fo' sho.  We got to see this pride nap and cuddle, and then hunt a kudu.  That was awesome.  Then we saw a couple who were all about mating.  They went at it every 20 minutes.  It was quite embarrassing for a shy girl such as myself.  And I promise this to be true, the lion looked at us afterward and smiled/smirked.  No lie.  Take a look.  And finally, we saw three male lions who just slept.  I like it when they yawn, because if you capture it correctly, it looks like they are growling.  And that makes me seem very brave.

Rhino.  This is what I learned about rhinos.  The dominant male establishes himself as a dominant male by pooping on the same poop pile over and over.  Hmmm.  Nature and humans, not so different after all.  Sabi Sabi has an abnormally large amount of rhinos, so they were easy to spot.  They just kind of lumber around eating grass.  As I clicked picture after picture, I kept thinking, "You are an odd looking fellow, and you really resemble a dinosaur, friend." We saw a baby rhino and he was adorable.  I felt a little sad for the rhino.  Seems to be a lonely life.  No one really spends any time with them, except for those birds who eat the bugs off of them.  I like to think they have a good relationship with those birds.  Everyone needs friends.

Water Buffalo.  What a ridiculous animal.  You just look at them and instantly know you are dealing with a jerk.  First of all they are wearing these ridiculous toupee-hats.  Whose idea was this?  And they really stare you down.  I won the staring contest, but I think that is because they were fighting off flies. I win.  Similar to the rhino, the water buffalo seems to have a deal worked out with those little birds.  I'm guessing the birds are the only other animals who like these punks.

Warthog.  Oh, Pumba, you are a funny little creature.  Almost so ugly, you're cute.  Almost.  They are pretty damn ugly.  On our walking safari,  this particular warthog, who is the largest male on the reserve, came trotting towards us.  I wasn't sure if I should be scared or not, but he didn't even give us the time of day.  I would also like to share with you what I think about eating warthog...I do not suggest it.  It is terrible.  It is a punishment.  I had it five years ago and it was the worst thing I had ever eaten.  So far, it still firmly holds that title.  They tried to make me eat it again this time.  Our guide told me, "It is so good, it will change your life."  My response was, "It already changed my life.  And not in a good way."  I stood my ground.  Warthog, like the Jonas Brothers, is something you should only have to experience once.

Wild dogs.  Where do I start?  I suppose I should start with saying that I wasn't actually aware of their existence.  I somewhat assumed that wild dogs were dingos.  And if you weren't careful, they would eat your baby.  But there are actually animals out there that are officially referred to as wild dogs.  And we saw them.  And they are ugly.  Uglier than hyenas, which is quite a feat.  The picture isn't a great one to show what they really look like, but it's my favorite one.  I love their ears.  And the most ironic moment of the trip came when we were chasing a pack of wild dogs.  Always thought it would be the other way around.  I feel lucky that I got to see these little mongrels.  There are only 5,000 in the world, and only 2,000 in South Africa.  I will say this, Mr. Bojangles has these guys beat hands down in a beauty contest.

Zebra.  And finally, the zebra, the most perplexing animal around.  I don't really get the zebra.  I feel like he may be trying a little too hard to stand out.  I mean, seriously, you REALLY stand out.  And you aren't even poisonous.  I very much loved seeing them hanging around, doing their flamboyant thing.  Do work, pony.  Nothing but love for ya.  I'm also a big fan of the fact that their manes look like mohawks.  Go on with your bad self, zebra.  Maybe I'll get a pet zebra.  I'll name him Mr. T, and he'll wear gold chains.

And Now for the Sports Report....

I know I am supposed to finish my animal report, and I will, but I need to address something quickly.  Well, as quickly as I am able, I tend to be a little long-winded.  Deal.

First of all, my jet lag is drastically affecting my ability to focus on what the heck is going on with the NFL.  I mean, my head is spinning, people.  Let's all just slow our roll, and let me catch up.  It looks like I'm going to need to schedule a dinner with John Clayton so he can fill me in on all the trades and free agency goings on.  By the way, has anyone else noticed that he looks like a cross between a light buld and Beaker from the Muppets?  True story.

The most pressing thing on my mind is rooted in Oklahoma State's new uniforms.  In case you wanted my opinion, I love them.  The pictures could have been better, but overall I think they are awesome.  I'm a big fan of change.  The announcement of the new unis has stirred up a lot of message board chatter in regards to "tradition."  I've got some pretty strong opinions about said tradition, so follow along if you would like.

About a month ago, a guy I know from college made a facebook comment about the new uniforms.  This particular guy happens to be a news anchor in the Lone Star state.  He used to be a sports anchor before his big promotion.  He is smart, witty, and well versed in the sports world, and he just so happens to cheer for the same teams I do.  Therefore, I'm a big fan of his.  Anyway, his comment said something to the effect of, "OSU has new unis, I'm intrigued, cue the people who complain about tradition."  I commented that "tradition doesn't win games, it just makes you more obnoxious on message boards."  A few hours later, a guy who I do not know wrote the following, "Katie hasn't been around sports much if she doesn't think tradition plays a role in winning."  Please let me express to you all how difficult it was not to go all Kathy on this guy.  The decision to refrain from tearing this guy apart rested firmly on the fact that my friend who is the anchor is a public figure.  But I have a blog, so I can address this yahoo openly here.

First of all, Katie has been around sports her whole life.  And I am willing to bet my home that if you want to go toe to toe on sports knowledge, I will school you.  Not a threat, for this is fact.

Second, I didn't say tradition doesn't play a role in winning.  I said it doesn't win games.  And I firmly stand behind that.  Tradition doesn't score touchdowns, make interceptions, block punts, or cause pass interference.  Tradition helps recruiting and makes fans obnoxious.  And that is about it.

Don't get me wrong, I like tradition, and admire most schools who honor tradition.  For example, Texas A&M has more tradition that any school I know. They have 142 different chants, their cadets get to make out at games all in the name of tradition, their swaying fans make you seasick, their yell leaders/male orderlies have lots of fun things they shout...but they have won one Big 12 title and one National Championship.  That's only one more than my team.

And you want to talk tradition?  Let's examine my beloved OSU wrestling program.  Traditionally the best.  Yes, we are the best.  Not Iowa.  Don't even get me started on that one, pal.  We have 34 National Championships.  We are winners.  But, tradition didn't win Jordan Oliver his National Championship this year...the fact that he is a total freak did. 

Tradition makes for a great atmosphere, but it does not equal wins.  Besides, reinventing yourself is proven to be successful.  Look at Madonna.  She's no traditionalist, and look where it's gotten her.  I think I've made my point, let's move on...

There are all kinds of OSU fans who are complaining about the new uniforms.  They don't like gray.  They don't like Evil Pistol Pete (neither do I, for the record), all the combinations are "hokey."  Listen up, Grandpa, last I checked you aren't the one putting the uniform on. You can continue to wear your old moldy satin jacket.  You are vintage, and I appreciate that.  But what really matters is if the players like them and if the recruits like them.  And if the football team wanted to wear Crocs, jorts, and mesh belly shirts, I wouldn't care, just as long as they win.  Okay, I take that back.  I can never get behind Crocs.

I think the solution to all of this is clear...everyone should just agree with me.  Things would be SO much better...just ask Husband.    Oh, and Go Pokes!

Wild Kingdom, Presented by Not Kathy -- Part 1

I have more than 1,000 pictures from my trip.  Way too many to share here or on Facebook or via Twitter.  I will eventually get around to posting them, after I edit them, but until that time, I thought I'd go about this a different way.  I could literally write 10-15 blogs about the different stories and experiences I had during my trip.  Only problem is that I'm probably the only one who would really enjoy this.  So, I'm breaking it up a little.  I'll share with you  my thoughts on some of the most memorable animals in a two-part series that I will call Wild Kingdom Presented by Not Kathy.  Then I'll recap the trip, and then we can all move on...after all, football season is right around the corner.  Let's get our priorities straight, people.

In this post, I will cover penguins, leopards, elephants, giraffe, hippos and hyenas.  Stay tuned for my report on lions, rhinos, water buffalo, wild dogs, wart hog, and zebra.

Penguins.  We saw penguins while we were in Cape Town.  One day we traveled down to the Cape of Good Hope and visited these little guys.  They are so cute.  Seriously.  I like the way they walk.  The way they scamper and the way they look.  Two thumbs up.  I would like to own one as a pet.  It was pretty cold on that side of the globe, so I can only imagine how cold the water was.  They would run into the ocean, and then high tail it out of there, like, "I don't think so, buddy!"  Extremely entertaining. This picture was of three little friends headed to the ocean together.  I titled it, Three Best Friends that Anyone Could Have.

Leopard.  While the votes are still being counted, I think I can call this election.  Leopards are my favorite animal in the bush.  They are just so pretty.  And just BAMFs. (I'm trying to curb my cussing, so I like to use acronyms instead).  During our time on safari, we saw leopards three different times.  In my opinion, they are by far the best dressed of the animal kingdom.  Functional yet sassy.  You go, kitty cat.  I missed seeing one climb a tree or kill something, but I did watch one hunt an impala.  I would like to own one as a pet.

Elephants.  Well, the elephants on the Sabi Sabi Game Reserve weren't really that friendly.  They were a little testy.  One of the females got all up in my grill.  I snapped a few pics and then decided that I was a tad uncomfortable.  I knew I should have been carrying a mouse in my pocket.  When they are trying to make their point and stand their ground, they flare their ears and stomp their feet.  You will notice in this picture that this young lady has her ears fanned out.  I see your point, miss, and I am choosing to back away.  You win this time, pachyderm.   Anyway, the elephants were big and grey and wrinkly.  They typically just walk around and eat stuff.  I was disappointed that they didn't walk in a straight line holding one another's tails.  Damn that Disney, they can really skew your sense of reality.  I do not want to own one as a pet.  They poop a lot.  I mean, A LOT.  Between them and the rhinos, we were constantly dodging land mines.

Giraffe.  Big, big fan of these long-necked freaks.  Then again, I've always been a fan of tall things: Eiffel Tower, Shaq, palm trees, Empire State Building, Big Country, and giraffes.  I developed a soft spot for giraffes when I heard they are the only other animal besides man that cries when they are sad.  And have you seen their eye lashes?  Holy fashionista!  We were on a walking safari, and when we turned the corner, there were five giraffe just staring at us.  Unlike the elephants, they were more curious than angry.  I am fond of curious things.  For I am a curious creature.  I give the giraffe an A+.  I would like to own one as a pet, but unlike the penguin and the leopard, I just don't think this is very realistic.  Our trees are very short and he could never come inside.  It just wasn't meant to be.



Hippopotamus.  The most boring animal in the world.  Behind maybe only the panda.  BOR-ING.  Do not waste your time with these duds.  There was only one hippo on the entire Sabi Sabi grounds.  He lived in a pond or whatever you call it in Africa on the outskirts of the reserve.  We waited until the last day to go see him.  And as we watched him he did absolutely nothing.  He only showed the top of his head (as you can see) and just laid there.  Didn't move, didn't swim, didn't open his mouth wide like you see in all the pictures from National Geographic.  Nothing.  Don't let the game Hungry Hungry Hippos fool you, real hippos can only dream of being that active.  I apologize for the boring picture, but this is the best I got.  I do not wish to own a hippo as a pet.  I assume it would be equivalent to owning a fern as a pet.

And finally, the hyena.  The hyena is a very interesting animal.  He is ugly.  He is shaped funny.  And he is a moocher.  Typically, the hyena waits for other predators to kill, and then he swoops in and eats all the good stuff.  He doesn't actually do the hard work, he just reaps the rewards.  Come to think of it, I'm almost positive there were a few hyenas in grad school with me.  One day, while we were watching the leopard hunt the impala, a hyena was about 100 yards behind just waiting for his opporunity.  Hyena: the opportunist of the animal world.  I don't have a lot more to report on the hyena except that I found his  body to be very similar to those juice heads at the gym.  You know the ones who only work out their upper body, leaving their waist and legs very, very small?  That's kind of what hyenas look like, but with fur.  I do not want one as a pet.  He would take all of Mr. Bojangles' hard work for granted.  We can't have that.

Are you going to Newark?

Kathy is back in America.  It is now acceptable to begin your celebrations.  I'm stuck in the Washington Dulles airport, working on hour 7 of a 9 hour layover.  Yes, nine hours in one airport.  I have so much to share with you, readers, I don't really know where to start.  So here is how it's going to go.  I'm just going to write/blog until one of three things happens: 1. I fall asleep 2. My computer dies  Or 3. I get on the plane.    I should share with you though that I am surrounded by MANY distractions.  A man with a handle bar mustache, those have always distracted me; a person sitting directly across from me that I cannot identify their sex, and a guy who is sucking food out of his teeth.  He is the devil.

I would like to briefly touch on the subject of how much I hate the double standard of airport etiquette.   I've touched on this before, but Kathy has a real problem bad customer service.  Typically, I let people know how I feel about their inability to carry out their job...to serve the customer.  But in airports, you can't lose your cool, because then you are a security threat and risk getting tasered.  So you have to endure being spoken to as if you are the stupidest person they have ever had to deal with...in their entire life.

As Sophia on the Golden Girls used to say, picture it, 2011 Washington Dulles Airport.  I had just come off an 18 hour flight from Johannesburg.  I was carrying a duffle that was serving as a carry on.  It weighed approximately 424 lbs.  Under my other arm was a 3 foot African mask wrapped in bubble wrap.  As I shuffle down the customs line, that actually is more like a three-leveled ramp, a woman who works at this fine institution leans over and starts to yell at me about my African mask. This is how the interaction went,  what I was thinking is in parentheses.

Angry Airport Woman: Tell her she has to pack that away or they will take it away from her

Me: (who is she talking to?  And what is she talking about?)

AAW: You'll have to put it away!  They will take it away!

Me: Okay

AAW: Look, I'm not trying to be mean, I just know how it works.

Me: Okay (why is she still yelling at me?  what does she want me to do about it at this moment?)

AAW: I've worked here 10 years.  I know how it works...they will take it away from you!

Me: *silence* (if I don't say anything back maybe she will stop yelling at me and everyone will stop staring at me)

AAW: THEY WILL TAKE IT AWAY FROM YOU!

Okay, I think it's abundantly clear that this woman wants me to know that "they" will take my African mask away from me.  What I never quite understood was how she wanted me to solve this problem?  Was I supposed to fly back to South Africa and return the mask?  Should I put it on my head?  Should I put it in my luggage that I had yet to claim?  Why was there a need to yell?  I don't know what she wanted out of me, but I know I didn't appreciate her delivery.

After that debacle, we had to recheck our bags at the United counter.  Super, super helpful people manning those stations.  They must go through special training to provide such amazing assistance.  We get to the counter and I check us in.  Then I hit a snag...can't check bags until 4 hours prior to flight.  It was only noon.  I had 3 hours to go...  Drat!  I ask for assistance.  Woman walks up to me and says, "Four hours, four hours, four hours."  And then she walked away.  That was her attempt at helping me.  I started to walk away only to realize that the two other couples we were traveling with who were on our same flight back to OKC both had their bags checked.  I went up to a new United employee and explained that I needed to speak to someone about checking our bags early.  Here is our interaction:

Super Helpful Lady:  They can't help you with that here

Me: But they just helped our friends 

SHL: Well they can't help you with that here

Me: But they just did

SHL: You need to go around the corner, that requires special assistance

Me: But they just helped our friends, right here

SHL: No.  They can't.

I see we don't agree on the way things have occurred.  I gave in.  Off we went to the super secret double probation counter.  As we wait in line, the man at the counter yells, "Are you going to Newark?!"

Me: No.

Nice Guy: Houston?

Me: No.

NG: WHERE are you going??

Me: Oklahoma City

NG: Through Newark?

Me: No.

NG: Then you need to leave this line.  This is Continental.  (points to sign)

Me: We are directed to Number 10 from the other counter.

NG: THIS is number 12.  Please leave this line.

So here is my question for you, you arrogant jerk, why do you have to be so mean?  There was not  one other person in line.  Just me.  What was with the condescending tone and pointing?  Necessary?  I think not.  Why don't you do everyone a favor and turn that frown upside down, pal?

After we moved lines, the guy behind me kindly pointed out that the Nice Guy was available to help me.  I turned and told him, "That guy has already informed me that he has no intention of helping me unless I am going to Newark.  I am not going to Newark.  But if you are, knock yourself out."

The good news is that our bags did get checked in at the secret counter and I still have my African mask.  I still have one eye open for the people who will take it away from me.  I'm curious if it will be a temporary thing or if they will take it away forever.  I wonder if I'll have visitation rights...I did carry it across the Atlantic Ocean after all, doesn't that count for something?

Keep the Change, Pal!

I've adopted a new policy in my life.  I'm going to start calling people, "Pal," when making a point.  It really gets my message across.  Strong.  Powerful. Pal.  For example, next time I'm dealing with customer service, I'm going to say, "Listen, pal..." or when someone is being rude for no other reason that it's a Tuesday, I'll say, "Calm down, pal."  I like the irony in the fact that a word that is synonymous with "friend" actually is quite hostile.

So, I am not adverse to change.  I almost always embrace it.  You can often overhear me condescendingly telling someone, "If you don't embrace change, you will be the one left behind."  Oh Kathy, she is SO wise.  But I will admit, there are a few things I am really struggling with accepting. 

First up?  Summer Armageddon.  Remember when The War on Terror began and President Bush used fun buzz words and catch phrases.  Unlawful combatants.  Suspicious Behavior.  Weapons of Mass Destruction.  Axis of Evil (that was a good one).  And my personal favorite, Smoke 'em Out of their Hole.  I currently feel like the state of Oklahoma is trying to smoke me out of my hole, but with extreme heat.  Seriously, enough already.  Husband and I left Arizona to escape torture heat.  Why did it follow us?  Go home.  Go back to your hot home...I'm done with living on the surface of the sun.

Kath's second struggle has to do with "virtual keys." Up until last week, I owned a phone with a real keyboard.  It was kind of like a sidekick, ala Paris Hilton, but not as big.  I fit the role quite well.  I could type like a mad man on that thing, all the while pulling my little dog around in a suitcase (see picture).  But alas, that old phone died, and I was forced to upgrade.  I don't have AT&T or Sprint, so no, I don't have an iPhone.  I don't drink coffee.  I've never read Harry Potter.  I'm different than you, I'm sorry.  Anyway, I'm have a VERY difficult time adjusting to this virtual keyboard.  And predictive text.  I send texts that come across that I am either 1. Intoxicated...heavily 2. Very, very dumb. Or 3. English is not my first language. Well, technically English isn't my first language, jive is.  But that's not the point.  The point is that I may have to put my fingers on a diet, they seem to be too fat to type words correctly.  How sad is that?  Poor, Kathy, and her fat little sausage fingers.

Finally, I'd like to address what no one will...the no-merge policy on the highways of Oklahoma City.  Seriously, what is wrong with you people?  Where does this aggression stem from?  I will let you in on a little secret, me trying to merge has nothing to do with my personal feelings toward you.  I am not mad at you.  I don't even know you.  And running me off the road and not allowing me to enter the highway isn't very neighborly.  Have you not seen the signs, "Drive Friendly" ? It's not a suggestion, I'm almost positive it's the law.   I cannot adjust to this angry attack.  In the year and a half that I have lived here, I have been run off the road no less than six times while trying to merge.  The official title of what I am on is an "on-ramp" which means I need "on" the highway in which you are currently driving.  Ease up.  Smile.  And let me over, pal.

Thoughts, Feelings, Reflections

I don't have one particular thing to write about this afternoon, so I thought I would just share some tidbits with you.  If you haven't picked up on it yet, I really love lists.  I could make a list about all the reasons I love lists. 

1. It has been brought to my attention that I turn every thing into a competition.  Husband said last night, "You turn everything into a competition.  And that's not always a good thing."  Hmmmm, sounds like something a loser would say.  I kid, I kid.  I just believe that every situation can be made better if there is a clear winner at the end.  Much better if that winner is me.
2. I also discovered this week that I might be receiving invites to things strictly for entertainment value.  I do not know what to think of this.  It seems as though Kathy has built quite a reputation for herself as a "story teller."  Make sure to ask Kath to come, she'll keep you in stitches with her wild shennanigans.  I just want to state that all of my stories are true...ish.  No seriously, they are true. 
3. As I mentioned before, I am going on safari next week.  Now that I have the perfect brown ensemble prepared, I've put these two things on the top of my list:
1. Find another monkey who gets drunk.  Record his antics so I can share them with the world.  Try to bring him home with me. 
2. Witness a kill in the wild.  Stop with your judging. I don't condone animal on animal violence. Then again, it is nature.  What kind of person would I be if I hated nature?  A bad one. If I'm going to fly across the globe, I want to see a fast animal chase down a slow one and kill it.  Then I could make one of those inspirational posters about the gazelle and the lion from my very own photo.  Except mine would read, "You should have been faster."

Happy weekend people.

That's a Beautiful Shade of Brown You're Wearing

I'm going on safari in less than a week.  With six days left to pack, I need to pull myself together and figure out what I'm taking.  Unfortunately, I don't own a beautiful frock as is pictured above, so I've got some work to do.

Here are a few things you need to know to fully understand the pickle I find myself in.

1. You can't wear colors while in the bush.  Seriously.  You have to wear neutrals and browns.
2. I was pretty positive that animals were color blind, so I was confused by these rigid rules.  However, I did some internet research (the very best and most accurate kind), and discovered that animals are not color blind.  I won't go into detail, if you would like to read up on what colors animals can see, please click here   I would like to point out that in this wikianswers article in all caps was the phrase: CLARIFICATION: TURTLES ARE NOT COLOR BLIND! Whoa.  Apparently turtles have been misrepresented in the media.
3. I don't own brown clothes.  I own orange clothes.  Bright colors and patterns.  Fun clothes.  Brown clothes are not fun.  They are boring and sad...the opposite of fun, and therefore the opposite of Kathy.
4. I've been on safari before.  Five years ago.  Didn't own brown clothes then either.  So I went to the Gap, bought brown shirts and pants and got rid of them last summer.  Whoopsie.

Okay, so now that I've set the scene, you see what I'm up against.  I figured I had a few options.  

1. Buck the system.  Wear what I want, stand up to those animals.  Show them they can't dictate my wardrobe.  I don't answer to you, hyena.  This stance lost a little of its support once I realized animals aren't actually color blind.  I mean I talk a big game, but an angry hippo/elephant/water buffalo is not something I want to come in contact with.
2. Dress like the animals themselves.  It works for them.  I could channel my inner Peg Bundy, cover myself in leopard, zebra, cheetah, and giraffe print.  And believe me, there is plenty of animal print out there.  While at Academy Sports, I ran across these two pair of shorts.  You'll notice the one on the top is a little more understated.  No splatter paint.

3. Or, I could just conform.  Find some bland clothes and just give in.  Sigh.  You beat me this time, Africa.

So Husband, because he's so kind, agreed to go shopping with me.  This should come as no surprise, but bland brown clothes aren't "in."  I was in for a challenge.  First stop, Old Navy.  Lucky for me, they have lots of poop-brown clothes...in clearance.  Bad news, Husband kept picking out VERY large clothing for me.  Like size 20 and XXL.  Kath's feelings were hurt.  Tear.

Next stop, Academy's camping section.  My own personal hell.  The day you see Kathy camping is the day I  say something nice about possums.  Will not happen.  Anywho, as I perused around, I realized not only are there no neutral colored jackets but camping/hunting clothing is non-Kathy friendly.  Ick.

On a side note, you can thank the likes of Rickie Fowler for the trend of brightly colored/obnoxious active wear.  There are literally NO neutral colored activewear items in the OKC metro area.  Granted I only went to three stores, but that small sample taught me a lot.  Pink, bright green, blue, yellow, anything that resembles a highlighter is what people are wearing these days.  I wonder if I dress like Rickie how the animals would react.  Maybe they have just never been exposed to such flare.  I mean they have embraced the zebras, why can't they learn to love orange and pink?

Until I build up the courage to wear bright colors in the bush, you can find me in army green, tan, brown, and khaki.  Such a sad day for Kathy.

Meet at the Peach Pit

I am sick.  Been  laid up in bed, feeling miserable.  Working a pretty consistent rotation of watching a movie on TV, sleeping, reading a magazine.  I now kind of know what it’s like to live like Mr. Bojangles, my dog.  Except Mr. Bojangles doesn’t read…as far as I know.  I suppose we’ll never know, unless we get a nanny cam…which, to tell you the truth, is not out of the question.  I’m forever curious how Mr. B spends his alone time.  And why, when I come home for lunch do I often catch him watching Nancy Grace?  It makes me question all of his decisions.

Anyway, I was reading InStyle and they polled celebrities, “What poster did you have hanging in your bedroom as a kid?”  Most of the answers were pretty standard, except for Scarlett Johansson’s answer.  She said, “James Dean.”  Really?  Really, ScarJo?  James Dean?  I highly doubt it.  I need proof.  She’s 26, at what point did she really admire his “masculine fragility” as she put it?  I’m guessing somewhere between never and didn’t happen.  Such an awkward phase.

Curious who I admired as a child?  Who graced Kathy’s walls?  Garth Brooks, Kriss Kross, Luke Perry and Brett Hull.  No joke.  This should give you a glimpse into why I turned out this way.  I’ve been conflicted since childhood.  Garth Brooks should be pretty self explanatory.  He became a star when I was in sixth grade.  First concert I ever attended.  He’s an Oklahoma boy and a Cowboy.  I had to idolize him.  It was predestined. 

Kris Kross…well, I don’t have a great explanation for that one.  Let’s just say, iTunes was invented for people like me.  Who just LOVED a certain song.  Bought the tape/disc and then realized that the new favorite band, wasn’t all that talented after all.  Kris Kross is a perfect example of that.  However, I will say that I did like “I Missed the Bus.”  That poster is a good representation of me and how I can be easily swayed and caught up in hype.  Judge if you must, but at least I admit it.

Luke Perry…well it was either Dylan or Brandon.  And the brooding/mysterious Dylan won over.  I look back now and realize that his wrinkled forehead and receding hairline should have been a clue that he wasn’t what high school boys were really like.  Unless they were total idiots and still in school at the age of 23.  I loved 90210.  I wanted to go to class outside like they did.  I wanted to live in a stucco house.  I wanted to live in California.  And I loved Dylan.  Until he cheated on Brenda.  I never got over that.  See, I’m a loyalist.  I have a hard time forgiving those who aren’t.

And finally Brett Hull.  My father used to travel to St. Louis for business on a pretty regular basis.  At the time of my childhood, a young man named Brett Hull played for the St. Louis Blues, and he was good.  Good enough for them to make him his own poster.  It read, “The Incredible Hull.”  My dad, being extremely proud of his name, bought two and brought them back to my brother and I.  Brett then played for Dallas then onto Detroit and lastly Phoenix.  It was like he was following me.  Each stop along the way, I pretended to know a lot about him.  We had the same name, it was my duty. 

I wonder, if it was socially acceptable, to still put posters up, what posters I would choose.  Chelsea Handler.  TuPac.   James Harden.  I’m not sure.  Maybe Husband and I can convert the office into the “poster room.”  I just can’t decide if that makes us white trash or awesome.  Or maybe somewhere in the middle.  I’m guessing if we put a poster of James Dean in the mix, it will legitimize the whole thing.  All his masculine fragility.

'Merica!

For the love of sport, did you guys watch that soccer game today?  Oh my holy, it was the best soccer game I've ever watched.  #2 was last year's US Men's match vs. Algeria.  #3 was a Pinnacle HS game in 2007.  Husband was the coach, and I was a wreck on the sidelines.  

I tweeted earlier today that there is nothing better than an "us against the world" victory.  And I really mean that.  Okay, any Oklahoma State victory is better.  But it feels different when your country is the one that wins.  

I'll be the first to admit, I'm no soccer aficionado.  I've only been watching for six years.  You'll notice that number is in direct relation to the number of years I've known Husband.  Seeing that he coached, played and loves the futbol, it was time for Kathy to get on board the soccer train.  

So here I find myself, watching the women's world cup earlier today.  My observations are as follows:

1. I don't trust anyone who goes by just one name.  With the exception of Jesus.  He earned that.  But all these Brazilians, really?  You have the audacity to just go by one name?   I don't think so.  
2. I like to think of myself as extremely open-minded.  Accepting.  Maybe to a fault.  But when officials in international sports make shady calls against us, I automatically jump to the conclusion that they hate America.  Today I very much felt that way.  That official with the short dark hair hates America.  And freedom.  And democracy.  And bald eagles. How else can you explain a red card followed by second chance penalty kick?
3. When Abby Wambach scored that goal in the 122nd minute, I promise you my heart stopped.  It felt eerily similar to when the US Freestyle Relay team beat the Frenchies in the 2008 Olympics.  And I instantly felt the need to yell, "Suck it, Marta!"  For those of you who were not watching, Marta is the one-named super star who plays similar to Manu Ginobili, another South American not to be trusted.  I mean, come on Kathy.  Have a little class, show some poise.  Win gracefully.  Can't do it.  Not in my DNA.  In fact, I believe I yelled, "Suck it Frenchies!" when we won that relay in 2008.  I'm a lost cause and a little bit of a poor sport. But I think that also makes me a patriot, so in the end, I come out on top.  USA! USA! USA!

I don't realize how big of a role sports play in my life, until it's the middle of summer and I have nothing to watch. No one to cheer for.  Last night, I sat and watched highlights of the OSU vs. Tulsa game from last season.  It was awesome.  We beat them.  Badly.  I sat wishing I had DVR'd all the games from 2010 so I could watch them now.  How pathetic is that?  And by pathetic, I mean genius.  Must remember this idea come September.

So on that note, I encourage you all to join me on the soccer train and watch us take on the Frenchies on Wednesday.  Do it for your country.  Do it for Jesus.  

I'm not familiar with your work

I've learned a lot in the last 48 hours.  Seriously.  It's like I'm back in school.  What am I going to school for, you ask?  My PhD...player hatin' degree, of course.

The first thing I learned was that if you google image search the phrase, "I didn't know that" this image appears.  Yes, an image of David Bowie.  I don't understand, but I'm okay with that.  Sometimes you don't have to understand, you just have to accept.  Kathy accepts you David.

Second, as I online voted for the ESPY's (pick Broderick Brown's tip drill please) I realized there is a boat load of "sports" I don't know a thing about.  For example, I couldn't pick a best bowler, best fighter, or best driver.  I do not know anything about these sports.  And frankly, boxing is the only real sport in the bunch.  I know Manny Pacquiao's name, but I voted for Sergio Martinez instead.  He was wearing a crown.  I liked his style.  And I refused to vote for a NASCAR driver of the year.  I don't believe in NASCAR.  I don't have a problem with their fans, I just don't understand them.  To me, NASCAR does not exist.  The only guy I would have voted for was the guy who beat the crap out of Kyle Busch because that is awesome.  But alas, Richard Childress was not on the ballot.    Makes me kind of feel bad, not having a total grasp on the current sports world.  But seriously, who has the time?  If you watch Around the Horn, only one guy actually knows anything about hockey, the rest just use buzz words and jargon.  I can do that.  They should interview me.  I am so much more likable thank Kevn Blackistone anyway.  Moral of this paragraph: go vote for the ESPY's and vote for Broderick Brown.  If you need any further advising, I'm happy to help.  But my knowledge is limited to sports that matter.

My final piece of new information is concerning the state of North Dakota.  In the last two days I have discovered a show on the History Channel called, "How the States Got Their Shapes."  The title is a little misleading, it actually just teaches you about states.  Yesterday I learned that North Dakota has one of the lowest, if not the lowest unemployment rates.  People are actually moving there for jobs.  To North Dakota.  Where the average temperature in the winter is negative three.  Negative three.  That is below zero.  That is frozen lungs cold.  AND your money goes farther in North Dakota than other states.  I mean, who knew this?  Should I contemplate moving to the frozen tundra?  If I do, will they expect me to accept NASCAR?  I won't do it.  Will I have to cheer for the Fighting Sioux?  Oh geez.  This is intense.  I wonder if there are many jobs available for snarky girls who love sports and purses, talk about their dogs like they are people, and are currently obsessed with Investigation Discovery (great channel, check it out).  Are there people like me in the Dakotas?  I just don't know that I could do it.  It's so cold.  And when I lived in Michigan, all I did was complain about how cold it was.  Seriously, ask anyone I knew there.  I complained, a lot.  I acquired 12 coats in the 18 months I lived there too.  Some might say, I'm a bit excessive.  And by some, I mean everyone who knows me.  I'm going to have to think about this....

I accept your challenge

Hello party people.  What is the good word?  I need to warn you that my spacebar seems to be broken or at the very least, hesitant.  So if words run together, it's not for dramatics, more due to a stubborn iMac Pro.

But let's focus on more challenges I'm facing, shall we?

First, the husband has started a blog.  If you would like to read it, knock yourself out.  His ramblings can be found at Rafferty Party of Two?  I was more than a bit surprised when this announcement was made. Husband doesn't write.  But it seems our weekend trip to hang out with my obnoxious friends brought him out of his shell.  His first draft didn't exactly paint me in the best light.  It went something like this: my beautiful wife writes, it doesn't look that hard, I'll give it a try, I don't have the flair for the dramatic like she does, I love my wife.  Ummm, see, you can't just slap beautiful in a sentence and hide the judgment.  I get it. You think I take things a bit far.  Blah, blah, blah.  For the record, I am a GREAT story teller, and great story telling requires details and a few exaggerations.  I'm just following the rules.  I see the challenge in front of me: encourage Husband to write (everyone should, unless you are really bad at it) without viewing this as a competition.  It is impossible for me to see anything as anything but a competition.

Challenge #2 occurred this weekend while we were in Michigan.  Technically, the challenge wasn't to me, it was between a bride a groom.  We travelled to southern Canada to attend a friend's wedding. This was my very first friend in Michigan and I was happy to see him and his beautiful wife start a new life together. Hooray for them.  Hooray for love. I was extremely excited when I looked over the wedding program and saw "Challenge of Marriage" following the prayer and reading, right before the vows.  Oh my goodness, what would this challenge entail?  A sprint?  Jousting?  Would it be a mental challenge?  I was literally on the edge of my seat.  This would be my first wedding challenge.  Much to my dismay, the challenge was not a literal challenge.  Boo!  It was a challenge to accept all that marriage is made of: ups, downs, love, and frustration.  Yes, that is important.  But I feel this could have been better communicated to the crowd with a Nerf gun or dead lift.

My final challenge is to myself.  I sat in a meeting last week for a new group I have joined.  The topic at hand was how so many members had great blogs about "all kinds of things."  Gee, I thought to myself, wouldn't it be great if my blog was promoted to this entire group?  I quickly realized that my blog is basically about nothing.  I'm like the poor man's Seinfeld of blogging.  Hence my NYC background.  Yes, I just compared myself to Seinfeld.  No, I don't consider myself at that level.  Work with me people.  My point is that I don't ever really write about anything specific.  I could.  I just don't.  I could write about cooking, or sports, or shopping, or traveling.  But I cannot force myself into a niche.  I just can't do it.  You can't hold Kathy down!  She cannot be pigeon holed.  Cannot.  Will not!  I may try to organize my thoughts a little.  That's not a bad idea, actually.  If I think of the blog as a column, I can figure out what I want to write for certain days.    Why am I even writing/thinking out loud?  Let's be honest, if you are reading this, that's all I really care about.

New challenge: pull yourself together, Kath.  You are out of control.