Possums and bad decisions...Part II

Part II....

Onto a completely unrelated topic...bad decisions. Bad decisions have been on my mind a lot lately.  It started with reading this blog.  Totally hilarious.   The girl talks about some bad decisions she made including, "In college, I drunkenly convinced my frazzled roommate that she needed to let me sit up so I could do something really important and then proceeded to vomit into one of my rain boots."  That made me think, I could write a lot of blogs or even a book about all the bad decisions I've made.  It would be pretty hilarious stuff.  But then I thought about the shame it would bring upon my family.  Not so much my brother, he's pretty aware of the dumb crap I've done, but my mom would be pretty upset.  Then I thought about how important it is for me to develop a pen name.


Then I was driving today and listening to the radio and they were talking about Chris Ochocinco Johnson.  He's the second person in as many days that I've felt bad for regarding their bad decisions.  I always feel bad for people who make bad decisions.  I want to give them a do-over.  I'd love to say it's because I'm such a loving kind soul who believes in the best in everyone, but I think it has more to do with my penchant for my own bad decisions.  This especially comes into play when I can picture myself in the same situation.  For the record, that was not the case with Ochocinco.  I can't imagine myself as an NFL wide receiver head butting my new wife.  But I did like his show on VH1and thought he seemed like a pretty likable guy.  I would also like to say, that I don't condone violence when angry or in general.  The only people who are allowed to headbutt are The Bushwackers.  Because they are awesome.


Where was I?  Oh right, bad decisions.  I used to think everyone made them.  It was kind of a right of passage.  It's what I like to call your 20s.  But I'm starting to realize, that's not true.  Apparently, there are tons of people out there who are responsible and level-headed and walk the straight and narrow.  These people don't really take risks, are even-keeled, and for the most part don't make bad decisions.  These people are what I like to call fun-haters.  And they rarely have any good stories to tell.


So that's my new angle.  Every time I make a bad decision, I'm going to think of it as "material."  Material for a book I should write, or material for if I ever become funny enough to be a stand up comedian...so it looks like it will be material for a book.  I hear once you have a baby you have nothing but free time on your hands, so looks like now is the perfect time to start.  Great thinking, Kath!

And finally, as a show of my maturity, and maybe a sign that I've become a better decision maker, I found this picture when I Google image searched "bad decisions."  I thought it was really, really funny.  I was going to use it as the lead picture for this blog, but then thought, "No, Kathy.  You are getting ready to be a parent.  All your mommy friends on facebook will be upset/worried/concerned if you put that picture up."  So, I hid it down here at the bottom for those of you who have a sense of humor.  You're welcome.


I promise not to put my baby in a pot...at least not on the stove.

Possums and bad decisions...Part I

This was supposed to be one blog.  Then I started writing and it just kept going and going, so I split it up.  I haven't blogged in two months, consider this my makeup work.  If you are going to read one over the other, read this one....and then read the other.  What else do you have to do?  And if I weren't so deathly afraid of possums, this blog would have a picture of a possum at the top.  But I just can't do that, and I resent that you think  I should...

We have a possum.  He's not a pet.  He's not wanted, but he is there.  Lingering.  In our backyard and haunting my dreams.  A couple of nights ago, Husband let the dog out to take care of business.  The process was taking a little longer than normal, so I stuck my head out of the bedroom, only to be greeted by Husband with saucer-sized eyes and the warning, "Do NOT go out there!"  I was instantly intrigued.  "Why?  What's going on?" I asked.  "There is a possum out there," he shouted as he searched for a flashlight.  "How big is it?" I asked, starting to panic.  He held his hands about a foot apart.  I shivered.  "You can't leave the dog out there.  They are mean.  They attack.  THEY ARE MEAN!  THEY ATTACK!" I paced in the kitchen while Husband returned to the scene.  They quickly came back inside, and the dog was super excited.  Sweet little Bojangles, doesn't even know he came face to face with the spawn of Satan.

I instantly needed a detailed account of what happened.  I had to know what we were dealing with.  According to the report I received, the possum was up against the fence, and when the dog spotted him, he froze and opened his mouth.  (God, just typing that has upset me more than I can explain).  I told Husband that he probably could have left that detail out.  He got the dog inside, returned outside only to see the varmint climb the fence and escape to the neighbors yard.  They can climb fences.  How great for them.  Husband asked,"How do you get rid of possums?"  Me: "You shoot them...or you hack them to death with an axe."  He frowned at me and said, "I'm not doing either of those things."  Apparently, I married a pacifist.  How great for me.

So now, I can't enjoy my backyard at night.  The possum has ruined that for me.  He is a terrorist.  He has taken away my backyard freedom.  I explained to Husband, that he has to accompany the dog on all nighttime potty times, due to the danger in the dark.  "I can't do it myself, because I just can't take the risk of the stress a possum would put on me at the moment.  I'm just too fragile right now."  On a side note, there is a very good chance, our daughter might be a bit of a drama queen.

Sprinkles and Lighting Bolts

Okay, people...do you have Thunder Fever?  I just don't know how you couldn't.  It's overtaken the world...okay, maybe just Oklahoma, but we're on our way.  I'm officially entrenched in the mania.  I've worn the same shirt every playoff game for two reasons 1. It's the only one I have that fits and 2. It supports my boy James Harden.

So as we sit several hours out from a possible clinching of the Western Conference Finals, I thought I'd share my Thunder-related thoughts...

I don't know what "Thundering Up" actually is.  I assume it's similar to Cowboying Up.  I don't know how to Cowboy Up either.  I don't let my lack of understanding deter me from using the phrase on a regular basis.  You know, I just like to fit in.  Thunder Up!  I have to be honest, I don't officially start Thundering Up each year until after college basketball is complete.  My first love is Cowboy basketball, and yes it's been a little dismal lately, but you can't just breakup with your girlfriend because she gained a little weight.  She still has a great personality.  So maybe I'm fair-weather, whatever.  Labels don't bother me.  But I am Thundering Up...I'm pretty sure.   Our household is filled with lots of shouting during games, I throw my hands in the air when a long three goes in, and Husband and I spend lots of unnecessary time analyzing driving to the hoop, Scottie Brooks, and James Harden's basketball knowledge and vision.  I think that constitutes adequately Thundering Up.

Can I express to you how much I hate the Spurs?  I mean I hate them.  And I hated them long before the Thunder even existed.  Okay, not that long before.  Since 2003 when I moved to Arizona and started following the Suns.  I announced to my 2003 roommate that I hated Tim Duncan.  He informed me that no one hates Tim Duncan, because he has no personality.  Wrong.  Kathy hates him.  And I'd like to point out that my favorite memory of Tim Duncan was watching Big Country beat his Demon Deacons in 1995 on our way to the Final Four.  Loser.   And stop referring to him as the Greatest Power Forward of All Time...he doesn't play power forward.  He's a post/center.** 

My hatred of the Spurs peaked during the 2007 Western Conference Semi-finals...game 4. Dirty Robert Horry hip checked everyone's favorite Canadian Steve Nash, and I've never forgiven the Spurs franchise for it.  While watching the game with Husband (who at the time was Fiance) I jumped off the couch, charged the TV and screamed, "WHAT THE HELL!!!"  I'm almost positive that's the moment Husband knew he had a keeper.  Either that or my rage deeply concerned him.  He asked me if I was planning on getting in on the fight, I told him it was a strong possibility.

But mainly, I really, really hate Manu Ginobili.  He plays basketball like South Americans play futbol, and that makes him the enemy.  He has been flopping and shooting by way of bicycle kicks and trick shots for what seems like 84 years, and frankly, I've had enough.  I despise him.  He is my least favorite NBA player that currently exists on the planet right now.  Blake Griffin is probably number two.  Enough with the stare downs after dunks.  We get it.  That's your thing.  When you can make a 18 foot jumper or a free throw, then you can stare people down all you want.  Oh, and I'm not a fan of Jason Terry either.  You are not an airplane.  You are just an annoying human who plays basketball.  I've gotten completely off point.  I called Manu French the other night on Twitter, which is embarrassing.  I know he's not French.  I blame it on the fact I had taken Ambien and had just had a long discussion with Husband about the amount of time Tony Parker spends on his back.  I got my annoying foreign Spurs mixed up.  Whoopsie.  For the record, I don't like Tony Parker either.

Finally, I'd just like to declare my love of James Harden.  Isn't he the greatest?  He's a Sun Devil, you know.  I love how he plays.  I love his smooth shot, and his ability to distribute the ball, and how he will drive to the basket when no one else will.  And I love the crazy eyes that he gets from time to time.  I heard someone call him a flopper yesterday.  Maybe he is, but I love everything about him.  I'm currently in the market for a beard for our baby.  Let me know if you have any leads.

So on that note I encourage you all to Thunder Up, Buckle Down...and wiggle from side to side.

**Husband has been complaining about this for years now, so I felt it needed to be included in the blog.  All credit for that comments goes to him.

You Don't Say

I felt like this was a really big news week.  Lots of fun and interesting things going on.   I love weeks like this.  From time to time, I really ponder why I didn't follow my instinct and become a journalist.  I guess for now, I'll just have to settle for scouring the internets at home while wearing a fedora with a little "Press" sign stuck in the brim.

Cannibal eats man's face off while high on bath salts.  To say I became obsessed with this story would be a gross understatement.  Seriously, what an insane thing to happen!  I had so many questions that I felt the media never answered.  Why did the victim have no pants on?  How hard do you have to bite to pull someone's flesh off? Why are people in Florida so crazy?  Every time a new story was released, I read it.  I discovered through my obsession there were pictures of the victim's face that was no longer in existence floating around the internet.  I, of course, began to search for myself.  I have no idea what is wrong with me.  I'm part of the downfall of society.  Oh well.

I would like to point out that I was aware of the dangers of bath salts due to my addiction to the show Intervention.  Last season featured a young man addicted to bath salts.  It was such an odd episode, I watched it twice.  I was disappointed to learn that bath salts aren't actually used while bathing.  I also learned this week that Grape Ape is not just a cartoon, it's a kind of marijuana.  There is so much about drugs I don't know.

Lil' Wayne not allowed in to Thunder game.  So, this made me laugh.  As Wes Welker tweeted, "Sorry bro, this ain't L.A."  I became very interested in the conspiracy theory of some lady named Trina being the ultimate cause.  Supposedly, this woman used to date Weezy, but then was dating my favorite Thunder star, James Harden.  So then what happened was Trina kissed Lil' Wayne at Mya's album release party (I can't remember if Mya was in the Lady Marmalade video or sang that song with Brandy in the 90s) and then Lil' Wayne professed his love for her at a recent concert.  So then, James Harden had beef with Lil' Wayne, because that was his lady and he wasn't feeling that.  And then Young Carter wanted to come to the Thunder game and Harden was all, "hells no!" so he was denied and said, "Go Spurs!" on Twitter and then we won.  No idea if ANY of this is true, but that was the story I pieced together from the world wide web.

Can we all focus on the fact that if this is true, Trina went from dating someone who was 5'6" to dating someone who is 6'5".  Almost an entire foot!  Talk about an adjustment.  And that's the angle I decided to focus on...

Oklahoma State football players break the law... twice!  Let's all agree it was a rough week for the Cowboys in the PR department.  And Twitter really takes crime reporting to a new level, especially from bloggers.  One blogger has now referred to both incidents as "felonies."  Neither are.  Another blogger wrote a very judgmental blog about Justin Blackmon.  Good for you and all your omniscientness and holiness.  And then there are the actual journalists/reporters who won't give you the good, juicy stuff because, you know, they are aware of libel laws.  It's a virtual circus of information out there.  Sometimes I think it's a shame that life doesn't work like Jeopardy!  You know, where people were rewarded for being right and money was taken away from them for being wrong.  Wouldn't that be great?  Imagine how much less obnoxious social media and sports/talk radio would be if people lost money every time they were wrong.  And people like me, who are always right, would be rich!

In regards to the young men associated with OSU who can't seem to make good decisions, a certain quote from Jim Carey from the movie Liar, Liar comes to mind... "Stop breaking the law!"  As for the rest of you hooligans, keep up the good work, I enjoy following along at home.

Where to start?

Someone told me they missed my tweeting the other day.  I wonder if anyone misses my blogs.  I decided that I would anoint June as my "comeback" month....but I'm bored, so lucky you, my comeback starts on May 29th.  Hooray!  Start the parade.

It's been so long since I've written, I don't really know where to start.  From time to time, I'll write stuff down that I should blog about.  I have scraps of paper in my purse, all over my desk at work and strewn throughout the house.  When I come back across these little gems days or weeks later, they never seem as interesting as I had originally thought.  For example, I was going to write a blog about bullying in society, in particular this mean bird that dive bombs Mr. Bojangles in our back yard when he goes outside to do his business.  Then that bird moved away... the story isn't that interesting anymore.

Since I've missed so much time, let's just start with current events, shall we? Here is what has happened in the last 48 hours.

1. Husband questioned my parenting potential because I spit out asparagus.  Ridiculous, right? I know.  We were enjoying dinner the other night and I was choking down asparagus.  I think it's gross, but I was being a good sport and eating all healthy and stuff.  I've never eaten the furry top part of asparagus before because frankly it is furry and looks like a plant, but decided to give it a go on Sunday night.  Husband always eats the furry part, how bad can it be?  Answer: pretty bad.  So I spit it out.  Apparently spitting out your food is frowned upon in this establishment.  I was then told I wouldn't set a very good example if I was unwilling to eat green vegetables.  I reasonably responded that I like green beans, celery, and cucumbers.  Husband told me that celery doesn't count.  Who the hell is making these rules anyway?  So I then informed Husband, "It's not my fault God made green vegetables gross.  Take it up with him."  I'm going to be an excellent parent.

2. We've decided that we are going to paint our house.  A total of five rooms are going to get a makeover.  The only problem is my indecisiveness.  Throughout our house are 4' x 4' squares of paint samples, like a quilt.  Maybe we'll just leave all the squares and people will think we are bohemian...or schizophrenic.  And can someone please back me up that a bright, screaming yellow guest bathroom is fun, not obnoxious?  I'm having a hard time convincing Husband.

3. On the way to work today, I followed behind a woman who was all over the road.  Curbs, left lane, right lane, she was out of control.  As I passed her, I looked over to try to determine the cause of her erratic behavior only to discover that it was caused by her smoking a cigarette that was approximately 3 feet long.  She also had a stethoscope hanging from her rear view mirror.  Why would you need a stethoscope in your car?  Was she a bad driving, smoking doctor?  Do doctors keep their supplies in their cars?  I, for one, would not like to have a hot stethoscope put on my skin.  Is the legislature still in session?  I'd like to draft something that forbids doctors from carrying their gear in their cars, especially in the summer.  Shortly after passing Dr. Feelgood, I swear I saw a bottle of True Blood on the side of the road. 

Okay, there's an update on my life.  You can see why I haven't written in a while.  In the blogging business, this is what you call "thin material."

This is a Stick Up!

I've been meaning to write this blog for about a month now, but for one reason or another I keep getting sidetracked.  But it's Tuesday and I would like share a story/some advice with you.  You are so very welcome.

About a month ago Husband and I were being good suburbanites and went shopping at Home Depot.  It was time to freshen up the landscaping in the front.  It was an absolutely BEAUTIFUL day outside, which I have learned translates to Home Depot be hoppin'!  We, however, seemed to be the only people not in a major hurry to get our soil, rakes and plants.  As we walked toward the garden center, a very tiny woman of approximately 4 feet 11 inches raced up behind us.  She was in a hurry. A  big, big hurry.  Instead of using the 7 feet of open aisle on our right to pass, she increased her speed.  She was tailgating and I could feel her hot breath on the small of my back (you know, because she was short and I'm not).  At no point did she back off, there was only one clear solution.

And so, I decided to treat dramatic behavior with equally dramatic behavior.  Sometimes it's the only way to get your point across.  I stopped suddenly, threw my hands in the air and turned to the side so she could pass.  See the kitten pictured above?  I looked like that, except I'm not furry and I was being accosted by her rudeness, not a gun...although guns can be very rude.  I hadn't run my plan past Husband before acting, so the look of surprise on his face was equal to the small woman's.    She was instantly embarrassed.  She muttered, "Sorry, sorry, sorry," as she scurried away.  Point made.  Kathy wins.

Husband stared at me and asked, "What WAS that?"  I simply stated, "She was in a hurry, so I was getting out of her way."  Then I smiled wide.  I proceeded to explain that sometimes you have to act ridiculous in order for others to recognize their own ridiculous behavior.  The only downfall to this strategy is that sometimes you embarrass the people you are with...and that is a risk I'm always willing to take.

Well, that was rude...

I chose Tuesday to announce on Facebook the big news that Husband and I are going to be parents to more than a furry, attitude-filled dog this September. I battled back and worth as to whether to announce it at all on the Book.  The Book is weird, and voyeuristic, and I tend to be a dramatic worrier, so I wanted to get through all those first hurdles before I went on the interwebs to explain my fatness.

I tried to justify to myself that I didn't need to announce anything on Facebook, because this was our personal/private news.  Whatever.  I wanted the attention.  I think that's a symptom of being pregnant, or a symptom of being Kathy, either way, I secretly wanted the accolades.  No need to lie about it.

So, I announced, and I was overwhelmed with the kind words and many congrats.  Yay Kathy!  You are virtually loved!  Or so I thought.  At the end of the day, I noticed I had lost three "friends."  Hmmmm, that's pretty strange.  So I decided that the reason these three people unfriended me on the day I announced I was going to be a first-time mom had to be one of the following:

1. They hate babies.  It's true, there are people out there that hate babies.  They also hate puppies.  And rainbows.  And sunshine.  And otters.  They knock ice cream out of little kids hands.  So now that I am on the cusp of having one of those squishy tagalongs, they can't be my electronic friend.

2. They hate the idea that I will be a mom.  While not very nice, I get it.  I'm scattered and dramatic, like to drink dark beer, and have been known to cuss once or twice year.  I may not be the ideal parent, this is true.   But Husband is gentle and kind, so he should balance out all my bad qualities.  And besides, I will teach this little girl all about sports and shoes and politics, and most importantly, the fine art of sarcasm.  Obviously, these three people just don't believe in me.  Their loss.

3. They hate me.  Merely by coincidence, three people made the decision, "I just can't take anymore of Kathy's nonsense.  She is no longer my friend.  We are done. She is dead to me!"  And then they threw the plate with my name on it into the fire (Joe Schmo Show anyone?) Granted, I don't believe in coincidence, so this isn't a realistic option.

Losing Facebook friends is a very strange feeling.  My inner 16-year old wants to write them a note and ask them why we aren't friends anymore.  But the realistic version of myself figures, since I'm not even sure who the three former friends are, we probably weren't that close anyway.