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.

Thursday Afternoon Insight

I don't know why I feel the need to start every blog with, "I know it's been a while since I've written."  Yes, we ALL know.  So let's skip that part and get to the good stuff.

Did you guys watch Frozen Planet?  So awesome.  I love me some reality tv, animal style.  Great programming.  I decided that maybe being a seal out in nature isn't so great.  Sure, you are cute as can be with your big eyes and whiskers, but everyone wants to kill you.  And you have short little arms, so it's hard to get away.  And the orcas work like a gang of bandits to knock you off the ice.  All in all, I think the best place to be a seal would be the zoo or Sea World.  A seal in the wild is a marked man.   My other observation is I really love penguins.  At this point, it's a total toss up as to who I love most: otters or penguins.  They are both hilarious.  I would like to have a group of penguins as pets.  I would make them wear bow ties and fill my living room with ice.  Good times for all.

Along the same lines, who else loves the new Prius commercial that is a parody of the Game of Life?  I can't quite figure out why I think this commercial is so hilarious, but I literally can't hold it together when the Asian guy twists his pretend mustache and says, "When I do this, it means I'm a chef!"  When I see commercials like this, I feel a  little sad that I didn't stick with Advertising, my major in college, and go work for an agency.  How fun would it be to sit around a room and bounce ridiculous ideas off each other?  I would be very good at that. 

Instead, I've someone become the head of HR at my current job.  This is what you call "I work at a small non-profit, so I technically do eight jobs."  We are hiring a new events person, and applicants are supposed to send their resumes to me.  I was wondering if it was okay if I throw out the applications addressed to Kathie.  I mean seriously, MY NAME IS NOT KATHIE/KATHY. I have thought about responding to said applicants and saying, "I'm sorry to inform you that you are no longer being considered for this position because you called me Kathie and that's not my name.  Best of luck."  I don't though.  Because as I've learned as the head of HR, you just have to rise above.  Act like a freakin' professional.

And finally, I would like to take this time to apologize to Husband.  Last week, he made delicious jambalaya.  And even though the bowl was seriously steaming, he went ahead and shoveled a big ol' spoonfull into his mouth.  His eyes grew quite wide and he said, "oh, oh, oh, oh, that's one hot tomato."  There was a cuss word in there too, but I'm a lady and don't repeat such things.  He didn't spit it out, he just look horrified.  I, of course, couldn't control myself and burst into laughter.  I guess when people burn their mouths, they don't like for other people to laugh at them.  Who was to know? It was so funny though.  And every time I think about it, I start laughing.  And I may or may not have been imitating him since then.  So, I'm really sorry, Husband.  I should be nicer.  I promise I'm working on it, it's just so hard.  I, am, however positive that I wouldn't laugh at/mock Husband if I had a pet penguin.  I could focus all my laughter on him. Problem solved.

Sincerely,

Kathie
Director of Communications/Head of Human Resources/Problem & Riddle Solver Extraordinaire

There's Probably a Story Behind That...

Today has been a very strange day. I mean, my days are usually pretty strange, but is just a little out of the ordinary. Please let me share with you how the day has transpired.

7:30 am -- I wake up because Husband ran into the bed. I found this super annoying. I stated, "You don't have to run into the bed!" He apologized. And rightfully so, because I think we all know he did it on purpose. I think I was actually more upset about the dream I had just woken up from. In my dream, Husband, myself and my mother were all out some where. A person approached us and told us he had a free trip to Costa Rica to give away, but it was only for one person. We all agreed that Husband is most deserving of the vacay, so off he went. Feeling a little uncertain about sending my better half on a random vacation set up by a random man, I decided to check with airline as to when he was returning. They had no record of Husband. And so, he was gone. I hope that the dream version of my husband didn't choose to leave me. Because let me tell you something, if Husband ever fakes his own disappearance, Kathy's gonna be pissed.

8:15 am -- As I collected my belongings and self in the kitchen, Husband said, "You look cute today. But I don't usually see you fix your hair like that." It was in a very messy bun on the top of my head. Me: "Well, this isn't how I'm wearing it, I haven't fixed it yet. Does it look terrible?"
Husband: "No, not terrible, just not fancy."
Me: "Fancy? It's usually fancy?"
Husband: "Yes. You're a fancy girl."
Me: "Oh my, God."

I'm curious if "fancy" is code for high maintenance. We've been together for more than seven years and married for almost five, and he's never called me fancy.  Frankly, I just don't trust this compliment.  I'm almost positive there's more to the story.

1:30 pm -- As I got lunch today I found an animals' toenail in my car. It resembles an eagle's talon, but smaller. I would put a picture up, but it's gross. This nail did not come from Mr. Bojangles. His claws are black and are never pointy. So, how in the world did another animal get in my car and lose his toenail? What is going on? Did a small bird land inside and try to claw his way out? Did it hurt? Because if so, this could be an angry bird. Do I have ANOTHER angry bird after me? I mean how much can a girl take? I just want to know WHY there is an animal toenail/talon/claw in the backseat of my car. I'm so beyond disturbed I can't even explain.

This kind of crap does not happen to fancy girls!

No Girls Allowed? Kathy don't play that.

Hey, hey people!  I hope this blog finds you well.  I am currently suffering from "it's so nice and pretty outside, I just don't think I can motivate myself to be productive" syndrome.  When it's 76 degrees on the first day of March, there is very little one can do about such circumstances.  Don't you worry though, I have amazing will power, I've accomplished a lot today.  *Pats self on back*

But let's get down to the nitty gritty, shall we?  As I watched a Twitter interaction unfold today between several people I follow, I got more and more annoyed.  What you'll read below is what I like to call a rant.  I shall warn you, I'm a tad braggadocious, but that's what one has to do when standing up for themselves.

 Frankly, I'm a little fed up with the blatant sexism that exists on Twitter at the  moment.  There are three Oklahoma State "bloggers" I follow who are constantly talking about OSU related topics.  I won't name them directly, but their handles involve guns, riding for free and Pokes.  From what I can tell, they all seem very knowledgeable about OSU and the goings on with my alma mater in regards to sports.  They tweet a lot, and I can only assume they get a lot of responses.  Now, while I do not run an OSU blog, I do think I have some credibility.  Yet, when I tweet responses, comments and/or questions, I'm often unanswered.  Oddly enough, they answer each other, and answer most men, but not Kathy.   The only one who regularly answers me is @CowboysRFF

So what gives?  Is it that I don't know what I'm talking about?  No, I don't think that's it.  I'm a member of the Football Writers Association of America. I don't know all of these bloggers' names, but I know one in particular who almost always ignores me isn't a member.  I work in sports, I help choose one of the top college football awards in America, and most importantly, I've been attending Oklahoma State sporting events for 25 years.  I'm at football, basketball and wrestling every season.  I also attend as much baseball as I can manage.  I'm a fan.

Is it that I don't run a blog about OSU?  Because if that's the case, you should put a disclaimer up that you only respond to media members or people who have OSU blogs.  Save the rest of us some time. 

But I honestly, I think I'm being ignored because I'm female.  I've run into this for years.  How can she know about anything?  She's a GIRL!  She has a pony tail and wears high heels and likes purses.  She can't know ANYTHING. Usually, on message boards, I don't identify myself as a woman, I keep it gender neutral.  Idiots on message boards only respond to men, and apparently such is the case for Twitter.  To all of this, I say: It's 2012.  I know what I'm talking about.  I'm too proud of a person to get into a conversation unless I know my facts.  Ask all of the poor souls I've left in my dust with my random sports knowledge.  And yes, I'm a girl who likes pretty things and puppies, but I also like a dominating three-and-out performance, a fade-away jumper, and cussing at basketball officials.  This isn't freakin' Mad Men.  Answer my questions, let a girl sit at the table...you might just learn something.

I'd like to remind you that you run your blogs for the fans.  And there are, if you can believe it, female fans.  Women are allowed to be sports fans.  We're also allowed to vote, speak before spoken to, and wear pants.  Times, they are a changing!

And that's all I have to say about that. *Steps off soapbox*

Excuse me, I think you have something in your fur

You know what really gets on my nerves?  The phrase, "so stinking cute."  I don't know what it is about that phrase, but I despise it.  I mean, when I see it, it kind of makes me angry.  I realize that this a completely irrational response to a meaningless phrase, but I'm just being honest.  I noticed the popularity of this phrase about a year or so ago, and it's almost always in the comment section of pictures on Facebook of adorable babies wearing knitted hats and shirts with catchy phrases. For every cute picture of a child, you can take it to the bank that some friend will write, "OMG she is SO stinking cute!"  Or,  "he is so stinking cute, I can't stand it."  The thing is, I bet you can stand it.  You liar.  Just kidding.  But seriously, can we phase out of "stinking cute."  I just can't handle it anymore.  And I don't really think it's a compliment.  Stinking things are bad.  I find it comparable to saying, "your child is rotting adorable," or "he is decayingly precious."  I don't think decayingly is an actual word, but I'm going with it.  So stinking cute fits in the same category as "LOL" with me.  I acknowledge neither.

Tonight as I was on the phone with my mom chatting away about odds and ends, I was putting away my stockpile goodies from Sam's.  I love Sam's.  I have a complete lack of recognition of my actual lifestyle once I walk inside those sliding doors.  For example I had a serious Lincoln-Douglas debate with myself as to if I could justify buying the 3 pack of spreadable Laughing Cow cheese.  I mean, come on Kathy, you don't eat that much cheese.  You should, but you don't.  Sadly, I passed it up.  What I did not pass up was the 48 pack of toilet paper.  Husband doesn't really get my obsession with paper products from Sam's, but just like true crime TV, I'm obsessed and you aren't changing my mind.

So as I was packing the toilet paper away in our bathroom, I looked at those Charmin bears and wondered, "Why do they have such a problem with toilet paper sticking to their fur?"  Who is this actually a problem for?  Is this happening to me and I just don't know?  I was not even aware of this phenomenon until these bears appeared on the scene.  I mean, is this widespread?  Because after conducting an unscientific survey, I have found the only people suffering from this are these bears.  And if I had to guess why this keeps happening to them, it's because they are covered in fur.  You don't see Mr. Bojangles with TP stuck to his fur.  He knows his limitations.  I also think if this is truly a problem, you should put on pants.  Have some decency.

You know what I think?  I think getting TP stuck to your fur is the only appropriate time to refer to a situation as stinking cute.  Because it probably is, especially if it's baby bear cubs.

She lives!

Have you heard the good news?  Kathy has risen....she has risen indeed.  After five days of the worst flu of my life, I am back amongst the living.  Barely.  It's 8:15 p.m., and as soon as I finish this blog, I'm probably going to bed.  But my head is no longer in the toilet, so I think it's okay for us all to rejoice a little.

It's been so long since I've blogged, that I don't even know where to start.  I find that when I don't write about things as soon as they happen, they aren't as funny or as interesting as I thought they were.  That either means I've totally mastered the "timeliness" aspect of reporting the news as I see it, or what I blog about isn't that great.  Either way, I'm not going backwards, you can't make me.

I'll just catch you up on how I deal with being sick and a few other odds and ends.

I don't know if you've picked up on it, but there is really nothing on TV at the moment.  Stuck in bed for five days, I was scanning the guide for some entertainment.  Left to his own devices, Husband will watch hours and hours and hours of food shows.  Guy Fieri and his stupid hair, reruns of Chopped, Andrew Zimmern eating dirt and rat poop, and Iron Chef.  Never anything that could be applied to our lives, just random shows about food.  It drives me crazy.  I think one day I'll just come home with 45 watermelons and say, "Okay smarty, make something out of these." I, on the other hand, choose to watch programming that makes me more well-rounded: Dateline on ID, 48 Hours on ID, and Lockup: Raw.  I have no idea what my obsession with true crime is, but it's there and I can no longer ignore it.  I logged no less than 20 hours of Dateline and 48 Hours during my infirmary stay.  I also watched three hours of Lockup: Raw, which is a disturbing show on MSNBC where they go inside prisons and talk to crazy inmates.  It's fantastic.  I will just tell you this, it will take a pretty sneaky person to pull a crime over on ol' Kath... I've seen every trick in the book by now.  In an effort of full disclosure: I also watched a day-long marathon of The Game on BET.  See how well-rounded I am?

Moving on... On Sunday, I pulled myself out of bed and we went to Stillwater to watch wrestling.  I would have stayed home, but it was a huge match.  This was a bad decision for three reasons: 1. I was still sick, felt terrible and the excitement of screaming/stomping feet/ jumping out of my seat did very little for my overall well-being.  2. During the second match, the child who sat behind me was super annoying.  And 3. We lost.  Boo.

I tell this tale, knowing that parents out there of young ones might be upset with me.  But let me say this: I have no issues with kids.  The fact that he was a kid wasn't what annoyed me.  I'm sure your child isn't annoying, but this one was.  This is not a commentary on children in general, just this particular kid who never stopped talking, sucked on hard candy for an hour and 45 minutes and asked no less than 87 questions.  And I have no doubt, when I have a child, that child will ask questions ALL the time.  I ask questions all the time, it will be in his or her genes.  I'm just saying, on this particular day, I wasn't in the mood for the Congressional hearing that was going on behind me.

I tweeted the following: "Wish this little kid behind me would learn the rules of wrestling.  Too many questions, kid."  It was a joke...kind of.  And then this exchange happened:

Stranger on Twitter: Or maybe you could admire him for being a fan and being there.  Don't hate.
What I wanted to say: Um.. Are you serious?  No one admires me for being a fan.  And since he's 8 and clearly doesn't understand wrestling, I think calling him a "fan" is a stretch.
What I actually said: I choose to be annoyed.  Thanks.
Stranger on Twitter: We are so spoiled.  There are bigger problems in the world, believe it or not.
What I wanted to say: Yes, I'm aware.  I vote.  I read the newspaper.  I pay my taxes.  I volunteer in my community.  I'm a feminist.  I'm an environmentalist.  I believe in civil rights.  I believe in human rights.  I donate to worthy causes.  I go to work.  I'm a good citizen.  And I'm a sports fan who has an annoying kid sitting behind me.
What I actually said: This has been super fun, but I don't know you.  So I'm going to go ahead and block you.  Peace and love.

And that is how sick, annoyed Kathy interacts with her "fans' on Twitter.  I'm a real gem, huh?

Finally, today, on my way home from work, I pulled behind a man who had a dreamcatcther hanging from his rear view mirror.  I'm very familiar with dreamcatchers, as I used to live in Arizona.  Dreamcatchers, Kokopelli, havalinas, and crazy politics: Arizona taught me all about these things.  Why would you hang one in your car?  Are you sleeping in your car?  Are you having nightmares in your car?  Are you asleep right now?  I thought about honking, just to wake him up, but decided not to be an aggressive driver today. Maybe the dreamcatcher was there to catch daydreams.  Although,  I thought daydreams by nature were happy and good, and there is no need for them to be filtered by dreamcatcher.  And frankly, I'm not comfortable with you daydreaming while driving, that's a very dangerous practice.  Whatever the reason for the dreamcatcher, I'm almost positive, it's suspicious.  And possibly dangerous.  And like the guy on Twitter told me, there are bigger problems out there, and I think we all know this one is at the top of the list.