Weekend Recap

I'm making an attempt to organize this blog a little.  Please contain your excitement, you're embarrassing yourself.  (embarrassing is a word I never spell right the first two times I try, see previous post in regards to irony).  I follow a very cute blog that is organized in a very cute way. She offers tips and links and whatnot.  Her blog actually provides something good for society.  Every time I read her blog, I think, "Kath, get it together!  You should do this!"  But then I remember that my blog doesn't really offer anything other than sarcasm, observations, and a funny story from time to time.  But who says I can't organize my sarcasm?  No one, that's who.  So I'm going to try to stick with a schedule.  Feel free to suggest a "topic" I should work into the weekly schedule.  I'm open to your ideas, as long as they are good ones.  Keep your bad ideas to yourself.

My weekend was not as exciting as you might expect a 30-something with a six month old baby might be.  We had a nice little Saturday planned.  We were going to Home Depot to pick out some wallpaper, then maybe we'd hit Bed Bath and Beyond...

On Saturday day/night I got to see three old high school friends.  We all wore flannel and Dr Martens to keep it authentic.  We talked about drinking wine coolers at the Fairfield Inn one wild weekend back in the day.  And every time I'm with this particular group of girls I think of playing no-brakes in my father's El Camino (Spanish for "the road").  Driving around winding streets never hitting the breaks.  It was really fun...and looking back on it, a really, really good decision.  Please don't tell my mom.  I can promise you that 16 years later, she still wouldn't find humor in it.

Saturday night I got home in time to watch the Syracuse vs. Michigan game.  I was conflicted.  I don't ever cheer for Michigan.  It's not that I cheer against them, I just cheer for whoever is playing them.  So I suppose that's cheering against them.  I don't really have a good reason for this anti-wolverine feeling, except when I lived in Michigan, I liked Michigan State better.  And I like Ohio State.  I like that they sing to Hang On Sloopy and who doesn't love Script Ohio?  See?  It's all legitimate.  Like science.  But Michigan was playing Syracuse, who I NEVER cheer for.  I hate Syracuse.  I actually have a good reason for not liking Syracuse...Gerry McNamara.  I try to keep this blog family friendly, so I'll keep my true feelings to myself.  But let's just say Kathy isn't a fan.  Boooo Gerry McNamara.  Boo!  And they had that kid Eric Devendorf who punched girls.  Seriously, who is cheering for these hoodlums? And I'm just going to say it....I don't like Jim Boeheim.  I know he's a legend.  I know that I'm supposed to respect him.  But I don't.  Don't like him one bit.  And I think his zone is stupid.

So I cheered for Michigan.  And they won.  Obvi, God is on my side.

Finally, I managed to use the phrase, "Straight cash money, homey," twice this weekend.  Once while talking to Spencer.  What can I say?  I go hard.

There's a fly in my Chardonnay

Remember Alanis Morissette's little ditty about irony?  Isn't it ironic?  Don't you think?  And remember how nothing in the song was actually ironic, it was just bad luck.  I remember thinking, "God, does she not understand irony?"  I was so annoyed.  And yet, as I was contemplating this blog in my head, a mental rough draft if you will, I realized that the irony of the song is that nothing is ironic.  And maybe that's what she intended...and if so, Alanis Morissette is a Canadian genius!  That Joey Gladstone let a good one slip away.  Cut. It. Out.

Anywho, I had a couple of ironic things happen to me this week, and thought what better way to jump back into my poor abandoned blog than a theme.  Like I've said a million times before...you're welcome.

The other day on the facebook or "the book" as I like to call it, I saw a post from someone that was pretty ridiculous.  I have to keep this very vague because I do not want to libel anyone in anyway.  Okay, I don't actually care if I libel anyone, but I don't want the retaliation that comes with such actions.  I'm all grown up now.  Gots me a kid and everything.  So this person told about something they did with their very young child.  I was relaying the story to Husband over dinner.  "Nice parenting, huh?" I asked with snark and judgement oozing from my lips.  We laughed at what a bad parent this person was.  Two minutes later, Husband pointed out to me that our six month old daughter was eating a napkin while sitting on my lap. I was caught up in conversation, I failed to realize that she had pulled the napkin to shreds with her gummy trap.  I had to fish the napkin out of her mouth, since the doctor didn't say anything about "paper products" being worked into her diet.  Hmmmm.  Ironic.  Maybe I should stop judging other people and focus more on my child who is going through a Billy Goat phase of trying to eat everything.  I'm thinking of sticking her in the backyard to deal with the overgrown grass.

The next day, while at work (new job, less football speak/more Corporate America and stock options.  Yay!) I was researching the environmental benefits of using ebill.  As I was fully immersed in data mining and finding all kinds of fun facts on going green (Go Green!  Go White!  Oh wait, that's Michigan State...) I was printing off all of my great findings.  Hey look, New Boss!  I'm so great at researching I've found gobs and gobs of relevant information!  See how great it is to use ebill and save paper and trees! See! See!  Everything you need to know...is on this huge stack of paper.  That I just wasted.  I swear Smokey the Bear was probably crying somewhere in a forest.  Ok, I know that Smokey the Bear isn't really tied to going green, but does that movement even has a mascot?  I feel like they don't, so I'm going with Smokey because he should fall under the "don't hurt the Earth" umbrella.  So I have lots of great statistics on why going paperless is good for the environment on a big stack of papers on my desk.  Such a sad irony.

And finally, I found irony in having to wear my winter coat in April.  Actually, I didn't find it ironic, I found it super annoying.  It's April.  Bring on the sunshine.  This lingering winter is stupid.  And I don't approve.  You know what this cold weather is like?  Ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife.  (On a serious note, can you imagine being anywhere with 10,000 spoons?  That would be amazing.  Ironically, I'd like to find this land of spoons).

I don't like your girlfriend

I haven't really blogged about Cowboy Basketball much this year.  There are several reasons/excuses.  I made a human and she surprisingly takes up a lot of time; I took a blogging sabbatical; I'm a little lazy.  All of those things are true.  But on the day that Saint Valentine sent letters from his prison cell (is that even the correct story?), I'd like to tell you a little story.  Even if you aren't a sports fan (what the hell is wrong with you?) you'll probably like it.

There once was a guy named Henry (OSU basketball).  Everyone liked Henry.  He was a good guy, very consistent in his behavior.  He was no Jeremy (KU basketball), but that was okay.  Jeremy is a little obnoxious.  Henry started dating Allison (Eddie Sutton) and she was an instant hit with all his friends.  She was a local girl who really brought Henry out of his shell.  He was so fun now that Allison was by his side.  You found yourself making excuses for skipping out on your responsibilities because you wanted to hang out with Henry and Allison all the time.

As a couple, they were the best.  She loved him so, and he shined so bright in her presence.  Everyone benefited from their relationship.  They were seriously the most fun couple.  Remember when you vacationed with them in Seattle in '95?  Randy Rutherford and Brooks Thompson were there.  Gosh, that was SO fun!  And remember when you took that little weekend getaway to San Antonio in 2004?  OMG, the best!  Sure, you got your credit cards stolen (losing to Georgia Tech), but it was such a fun trip otherwise.

It was hard to think of Henry and not think of Allison.  That's how perfect they were together.  They were your very favorite couple.

And then the unthinkable happened....Henry broke up with Allison.  It was sudden.  It was unexpected.  And it was shocking.  Allison was heartbroken.  But more importantly, YOU were heartbroken.  How could Henry do this? They were your go-to couple.  Double dates, trips, weddings, happy hours...you name it, you were always with Henry and Allison.  Who were you supposed to hang out with now?

Deep down, you knew Henry didn't have any other choice.  It was just such a bitter pill to swallow.  After a little dating around, Henry started dating a new girl, Amy (Travis Ford).  You instantly hated her.  She wasn't as pretty as Allison, she wasn't funny and witty like Allison.  She wasn't Allison!  And you just weren't going to forgive her for that.  And where did he even find Amy?  She wasn't even from here!  Everyone knew that if Henry and Allison ever broke up, he was supposed to date Hannah (Bill Self).  But stupid Hannah had started dating Jeremy when Henry and Allison were still together.  You didn't really care, because whatever, you like Hannah and you want her to be happy.  But now that Henry was single, she was supposed to break up with Jeremy and coming running into Henry's arms.  Everyone knew this.  Stupid, stupid, Hannah.  Just break up with Jeremy.  Sure, he has great clothes, dreamy eyes and a great job.  So what!  He's no Henry.

So here we are with Henry and Amy, the new couple.  You have refused to give her a chance, hoping she would just go away or Henry would dump her for someone shinier.

"Sure, she has a nice body (recruiting class)," you say.  "But she dresses so dowdy.  She doesn't do anything with her figure!  And what happens when she stops dieting (Marcus Smart goes to the pros)?  Huh?  What happens then?  She'll be chubby again.  Allison was never chubby."

"I hate the way she throws parties! (runs plays) Amy's parties are filled with loud music and dancing.  It's so chaotic!  Allison's parties were so sophisticated (defense). I'd rather just stay home!"

"Amy and Henry aren't as fun as he and Allison were.  We used to always win trivia with them.  Now we consistently finish in the middle.  And forget about playing darts (away games).  Amy can't even hit the board.  Allison was much more fun."

But let me share something with you...Amy's not so bad.  I've been on her side from the beginning, and I LOVED Allison.  We are still very close.  Actually, in my mind, we're very best friends.  But Henry is with Amy now.  Allison isn't coming back.  Ever.  And I'm a loyal friend.  I've been friends with Henry since the 80s, I'm not giving up on him now.  So it's just been me, Husband, Henry and Amy hanging out.  Sure it's a little lonely, but I've never waivered.

So on this Valentine's Day, I beg of you...stop being a jerk.  Just accept Amy already.  We can go back to the good ol' days of rowdy behavior.  Lamp shades on our heads, swinging from the chandeliers.  This could all be yours again.  Show up this Saturday at Gallagher Iba Arena.  Dwight (OU basketball) will be there.  And remember how fun it is to tease and make fun of Dwight?  I'll be there.  Husband and baby will be there.  Even Allison will be there.  She's gotten over the break up.  Why haven't you?

I don't think so, buddy

Listen up, Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, I don't want your ugly necklace. I'll be happy when Valentine's Day is over so you can stop monopolizing the television with your jewelry hawking.  Enough.  I don't care how many times you tell me that if I keep my heart open love will find a way in.  Your necklace looks like a cobra.  That doesn't make me think of love.  Cobras make me think of Karate Kid (put him in a bodybag, yeah!) and Rikki Tikki Tavi.  If Husband were to buy me an Open Heart Necklace for Valentine's Day, I wouldn't think, "Wow, he loves me so much!" I would think, "Why does he hate me?"  I'm not sure the jewelry of preference for women in 1867 Colorado Springs (I had to google Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman because I didn't know anything about it.  After reading the Wikipedia page, I feel like I probably didn't miss out on anything.  Lauren Ingalls Wilder owns you Dr. Quinn), but here in present day 'Merica, your necklace is dumb.

 

Side note: Blogger hates me today, and I can't figure out how to add this image as a thumbnail.  Urgh.  Technology.  I thought about leaving it out, but really, this argument needs a visual aid.

I've wanted to share my annoyance of the Open Heart/Cobra necklace for quite some time now.  Actually, I originally wanted to blog about it in December  (she makes a big push around the holidays too), but I was waiting for something else to complain about to round out the blog.  And then last week I found my other topic...

I was watching the Today show while I got the baby ready for her day.  Don't worry, once she's a little more aware, I'll put something on the television that is actually educational and valuable.  For  now, I choose to watch these yahoos on NBC and see what wacky situation Al Roker will get himself in next!  Zany!  Anyway, they had a reporter doing a story from Sochi, Russia, home of the 2014 Winter Olympics.  I don't remember exactly what the story was, other than they pointed out that it's a resort town with warm weather in the winter.  Don't worry though, the mountains surrounding Sochi have plenty of snow. Whew!  Close one.  The reporter then said, "They have a saying here in Sochi: If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes." My head popped up and I informed Spencer that that was the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

Let me give you a little back story.  Please read the entire thing before you judge.  When I moved to Michigan, several people  said to me, "You know what they say about Michigan, if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes."  I found this ridiculous for two reasons 1. The weather in Michigan is pretty consistent.  Snow, snow, snow, snow.  Cloudy/overcast/40 degrees.  Snow.  Cloudy/overcast/40 degrees.  Sunshine for seven days.  And then snow again.  The weather isn't really their selling point.  Funny accents and hockey, that's where the money's at.  And 2. Everyone knows that Will Rogers said that.  And when he said it, he was talking about Oklahoma.    Geez, these northerners know nothing!

So, I had my pithy blog all ready to go.  I was going to point out how you can't just say, "we have a saying," when in fact, it's not your saying, you're just stealing it and applying it to your situation.  It's like saying, "You know what they say about Oklahoma City....whatever happens in OKC, stays in OKC."  Not applicable.  So I did a quick Google search, or as I like to call it, "fact checking," and discovered that it was in fact Mark Twain who said that and he was not talking about Oklahoma.  The exact quote is, "If you don't like the weather in New England now, just wait a few minutes."

Dammit!  I hate being wrong.  I mean, I really, really, really hate being wrong.  I basically get up each day knowing how right I'm going to be.  I feel as if I've been hoodwinked.  Someone, somewhere along the way told me this was about Oklahoma.  I probably just made up the fact that Will Rogers said it, because sometimes I embellish.  I don't even know what to do with this new found knowledge.  I feel like I should go back to Michigan and apologize to all those people that I snarkily (<-- new word I just invented) corrected.  As soon as the sun comes out up there, I'll get right on that.

That's kind of my thing...

These are the things that are currently on my mind...

...I just referred to myself as a BA in an email to Husband.  I then went on to tell him that I will be referring to myself as a BA from this point forward, and a BAMF when I do something super awesome.  I've decided that's my new thing.  Until I forget it's my thing and move on to something else...

...I really want a sour cream gun.  Can civilians buy these?  If so, I'd like one in  my stocking this year, sans sour cream.  Every time I fix a baked potato or a taco on Taco Tuesday, I think, "Why is sour cream so hard to maneuver?"  And that commercial is crap.  Who wants a dollop?  I want my sour cream spread out.  I want the gun.  And I may or may not make laser beam sounds when I shoot it on my food...

...Arts and crafts with a baby are hard.  Last week, the ladies at daycare told me Spencer was advanced.  Apparently, I processed that information as, "Your daughter is a savant."  I researched lots of cute arts and crafts projects on Pinterest with high hopes of cuteness galore.  The funny thing about Pinterest is that no one tells you, "A 10 week old can't do this project, you moron."  So I bought paint and glitter and all the accoutrements.  I ended up with a baby covered in green and red paint and seven failed attempts at homemade keepsakes.  The dog was barking and running in circles, I yelled at Husband because he couldn't get our advanced daughter's feet properly on the paper to make perfect Christmas trees, it was a really fun family moment.  No idea why I think I'm Martha Stewart.  I much more resemble the SNL spoof version of Martha who puts pretty bows on bags of poo...

...I'm salty about all this talk of Mike Gundy leaving.  Who knows if he will, but my gut is saying he will.  Because this is what being an OSU fan is all about.  I waited my entire life for us to be relevant in football.  I stuck with this team one disappointing season after another.  "Just give them more time," was my mantra.  And then it came.  2011 was like a wonderful dream amongst fluffy clouds of touchdowns.  And what do I get as a follow up?  A bleh-filled 7-5  season with my coach bailing to an uglier orange.  Thanks Universe.  Thanks for bringing me back to reality...

...There has been a significant shift in the space time continuum.  Our household can no longer yell during sports.  I'm devastated.  Yelling during sports is kind of my release of all stress in my life.  When I yell, "Rebound!" or "Holding!" I feel better about life.  My advanced baby doesn't feel so good about it.  We learned this during Bedlam as Blake Bell rumbled into the endzone with 45 defenders hanging off of him. Then this past Saturday, as my Pokes lost the ability to tackle, my baby cried as if she had been stuck with a hot poker...in the eye.  Imagine my mood as my football team was refusing to win and my baby suffering emotional trauma.  Maybe she could read the writing on the wall that Gundy was leaving.  It makes me want to cry too...

Hiking a mountain with Bradley Cooper

There are two things on my mind, and they have nothing to do with one another.  This happens a lot.  I want to blog, but I have too many topics to cover.  So, I'm just going to write about them both.  Don't try to find the common bond.  It doesn't exist.

This morning I was watching Morning Joe. I think this is a sign that I really am old.  Or well-informed.  Or on my way to being a well-informed senior citizen.  (**Editor's note: I had a very long paragraph here explaining why I watch Morning Joe.  After I read it, I realized no one cares why, so I deleted it.  If you want to know my reasoning, let me know.  I'm happy to share).

On today's show Bradley Cooper was promoting his new movie.  After watching his interview, I walked into the kitchen and had the following conversation with Husband.

Kathy: I'm uncomfortable with how attractive Bradley Cooper is.
Husband: Oh yeah?
Kathy: Yeah.  He's promoting his movie on Morning Joe, and he's also talking public policy.  When his segment ended, he asked  if he could stick around to talk to Chris Christie. Apparently, he's smart.  AND he speaks French.  And he's just so good looking.  It all makes me a little uncomfortable.
Husband: **laughing**
Kathy: Can someone really be that perfect?  I just don't know.  
Husband: Maybe he's a womanizer.
Kathy: That's okay with me.

I thought about my last comment as I continued getting ready and came to the conclusion that I don't mind men who are womanizers.  In fact, a lot of my very good guy friends are womanizers.  I don't even know what that says about me.  I worry that sometimes I really am a boy, but then I buy four pairs of new shoes and watch Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and balance everything out.

Moving on... somehow my name and address were distributed to every company that produces a catalog in the last four months.  We honestly get at least four each day in the mail.  Just throw them out, Kathy, you say.  Well, no.  I flip through every one of them.  I use those little sticky tabs that you are supposed to use on important documents at work and tag all the things I like.  I get a shopper's high from it without spending money.  Somewhere along the line, someone out there in consumer land got the idea that Husband and I are adventurous.  We get catalogs filled with plaid outdoorsy stuff a lot.  They should know that they received bad information.

And then I received a Patagonia catalog two days ago.  Have you ever seen one of these?  I had not. I had no idea what I was missing out on.  Remember when Elaine Benes worked as a copy editor for the J. Peterman Catalog?  I think the Patagonia catalog is the Peterman catalog in the real world.  There are stories inside.  Long adventurous tales.  It's fascinating.  Beautiful pictures of mountains and such.  They aren't just selling clothes here people, they are selling a lifestyle.  And I'm buying!  I'm buying the clothes, not the lifestyle.  Who in the world has time to climb a mountain?  I am currently trying to find time to make my bed.

So is it acceptable for a non-adventurous person to wear Patagonia?  Because I feel like the only people I've ever seen wearing it are also wearing hiking boots and carrying a Nalgene bottle.  I have neither.  Would I be instantly identified as a poser?  Because there is a very cute orange pullover jacket, that apparently is perfect for wicking away the moister while climbing over boulders.  I however would wear it as I climb the treacherous stairs of Gallagher Iba Arena.

Check the Footnotes

I need to get something off my chest.  I don't like Rhianna.  I should clarify, I don't like her music.  I have no issues with her as a person.  Go on with your tattooed self.  But her music...I feel as if I'm being punished.  What did I do so wrong?  She was the musical guest last week on SNL.  I watched as she sang her new song Diamonds. And I thought, "I don't think I like this song. Are there any verses?  Or just the chorus over and over?"  Then on the way to work yesterday I heard the same song and thought, "Okay, I really don't like this song.  Why does she sing so monotone?"  It's like listening to a robot from Barbados.  I mean, do they even have robots in Barbados?  Doubt it.  And the line, "Shine bright like a diamond," stuck with me ALL day.

You know how one form of prisoner torture is to play an annoying song on repeat?  I strongly suggest they
play Rhianna.  They could rotate between Diamonds  and her song with Drake, Take Care.  Show those terrorists how much we really hate them.  Damn right, America!  One of my friends who went to a different college and pledged a different sorority once told me a story about her initiation.  They played Alabama's Song of the South on repeat for hours.  In the biz, that's what we call "hazing."  She got into my car once and that song came on.  Let's just say that she had a strong reaction.  I feel that way about Rhianna.  My body tenses up, I grip the steering wheel, and I get angry.  And because my subconscious hates me, the song plays on repeat in my head for the rest of the day.  My brain is hazing me.

I was going to write this blog yesterday, because the wound was so fresh.  But then I got distracted.  It happens.  A lot.  One of the things that distracted me was a column written by Chuck Klosterman I happened upon.  I love Chuck Klosterman, he is one of my favorite writers.  Dave Eggers, Chuck Klosterman, Bill Simmons and Dave Sedaris are at the top of the list.  Apparently, I'm a sexist reader.  Let me amend my list to include Jen Lancaster and Jennifer Weiner.  I'd add Pat Forde to this list, but five years ago he wrote some critical things about Coach Gundy, and I take such blasphemy seriously.  So as I was reading this Klosterman column, I was reminded of his genius use of footnotes.  He manages to write amazing, thought-provoking material, while staying on point because all the off-shoot random details are included in footnotes.  You know who would benefit from this type of writing?  Kathy would.  I have the HARDEST time staying on topic.  I tend to write in a stream of consciousness.  See: Dave Eggers (I'm not comparing myself to Dave Eggers.  He is a genius.  I'm a random girl who people call the wrong name.)  Klosterman's use of footnotes is not in the lame bibliography way, instead they are in the "here's a supporting thought, and if you would like to know more about why I included that, please look at the bottom of the page," way.  Genius.  And as I write this, I'm remembering that in A Heartbreaking Work of a Staggering Genius, Dave Eggers uses footnotes too.  I love footnotes!  I must find a way to use footnotes.  If I was using footnotes right now (but can't because Blogger.com doesn't have that feature) I would note that I managed to use the word "genius" four times in this paragraph, and that is super annoying.  Me and Rhianna. Two annoying girls just trying to make ends meet.