Interesting Concept...

I got to hang out with my baby brother last night. (Haha. Baby. He turns 24 on
Sunday...) We got to hang out at HIS place! That's right, my brother is a bonafide grown up with a real job and his own place now. *Sniff sniff* So proud. (Ok, I really am, but that was just dramatic.)

We went out to eat at one of our favorite places in town, Tres Amigos. In between stuffing our faces with chips and salsa, we had a conversation about relationships.(We do that a lot.)

I was filling him in on the happenings in my "love life" (hardee-har-har):

"Well, I've been talking to so and so a lot, but you know we're just friends."

"Mmhmm. I know that."

"And I've been talking to so and so, but I'm not really sure..."

"He's a cool guy, you should ask him out."

"I think there are some major things that we differ on though..."

"Oh... Hmmm."

"But then so and so text me out of the blue...""

"I didn't know you liked him!"

*sheepishly* "Yeeeaaahhh... I have for a little while..."

"HE'S AN AWESOME GUY! YOU SHOULD ASK HIM OUT!!!"

"But I don't want to ask anyone out! I'm a girl. I want the GUY to ask me out! Am I intimidating or something?!?!"

And that's when my brother said:


And I made this face:


And then I had this thought:


(Just kidding.) Well, I really DID have that thought. In jest. I didn't mean it. (Even though I'm not unfortunate looking.)

I then asked my brother, "Well, would YOU go out with a girl who asked you out?"

"Probably not."

*Facepalm*

Back to square one.



P.S. Guys, don't be intimidated! Girls are just GIRLS!!!

Blessings

Monday was a challenging day. We had the biggest customer blow up that I have ever witnessed in my life. It was the kind where you can't stop shaking, even an hour after. Not cool.

Got home to find that I had a form to fill out for jury duty. It had arrived that day (the 28th) and it was dated March 7th with "fill out form and return within two (2) days." The "two (2)" was in BOLD PRINT.

Awesome. Am I going to jail? I wouldn't look good in that gaudy orange. It would seriously clash with my hair.



Yesterday morning, I drove to work (after only paying $1.61 for my Diet Pepsi) and I was just feeling really weepy. I do that cool thing where things done really effect me until the day AFTER. I didn't really want to go to work. I was scared.

I text Fren and he sent me a nice message that cheered me up.

Then my friend Bryce sent me a text out of NOWHERE, and he cheered me up. (It was REALLY hilarious!)

Aunt Cathy sent me a text and it cheered me up.

And you know what? Fren was the only one who even KNEW I was having a bad day!!!

I talked to Ryan and Libby throughout the day and they made me smile. Jennifer was at work and she bought a pizza for lunch (with jalapenos for me!) and then ice cream later. Heck, she even let us close early so I could go home and catch the Wichita State game. (THEY WON!!!!)

All of those things to say that I felt great despair yesterday morning and I cried out to God for help.

And He sent my friends to help me. :)

I felt like writing last night (first time in a LONG time I'd felt that way!) so, I "wrote" this. It's obviously a spin on 1 Corinthians 13, but it's how I was feeling at the time.

"Be Love"

Be patient.
Be kind.
Do not envy.
Do not boast.
Do not allow pride to overtake you.
Do not dishonor others, whether it be through words or actions.
Do not seek to make everything about you.
Do not allow yourself to be easily angered.
Keep no record of the wrongs of others.
Do not delight in things that are evil.
Rejoice in things that are good and true.
Protect always.
Hope always.
Persevere always.
Be love.

Baby C's

Can we talk about how I just paid $2.16 for a Diet Coke at Wendy's? I don't even LIKE Diet Coke, but they didn't have Diet Pepsi.

That's what I get for running late and not living close to a gas station.

This weekend was chock full o' fun! Worked, went to church, went to a Wichita Wild game (until halftime... they were sucking pretty bad.), ate a VEGGIE burger at Freddy's Frozen Custard, and went to see "Sucker Punch" at the IMAX.

De-lightful.

Got home last night, watched an episode of "Archer" with the broski, talked to Kristin for a bit, and then Fren called and we Skyped until 1-something-AM.

I do not know what my deal is, but DUDE! I cried or almost cried like 3 times last night. ON SKYPE. Who does that? My inner pep talks were getting increasingly violent.

"If you cry ONE MORE TEAR, I swear I will end you."

Ok, it didn't REALLY go like that, but the thought is amusing, no?

Fortunately, I'm like a ninja at crying and I'm pretty sure it went undetected.

(Seriously, at one point David Gray's "This Year's Love" came on Fren's Pandora. It was like God was actively TRYING to make me cry.)

Stupid emotions. Stupid missing people.

Anyhoot, went to bed. Woke up at 3 something, couldn't sleep so I turned on my TV for some noise and I heard more than I ever wanted to know about the "Kymaro Body Shaper". The most important thing to know about the Body Shaper is that you should probably already be 111 lbs if you want to wear one (at least the girl in the infomercial was) OR be 65 years old.

Infomercial: "It smooths lumps! And bumps! Muffin tops! And saddle bags! Back fat! And more!"
*Cut to a scene of an old lady smelling roses in a sleeveless shirt. Her arms are spilling out and jiggling like nobody's business, but by golly there ain't a lump to be seen on her back or tummy!*

Just as I was wondering to myself if they made a chin shaper, I fell asleep.

I woke up with a mix of "Army of Me" and "The House That Jack Built" stuck in my head. I sensed that I was in trouble.

I sat up and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Apparently, I forgot to take my eye makeup off last night, so I looked like one of the "Sucker Punch" girls.

OFF TOPIC JAUNT/RANT:
Ok, why do guys think girls are "hot" in movies when they are super skinny and have insane eye makeup, but if YOU would try to do that, they'd tell you to "Go eat a sandwich." and "Wash your face. You look like a raccoon."? Just sayin.

I got out of bed and went to my drawer to grab some clean undies...

SOMEONE forgot to do laundry, so I had to go to the "Special undie" drawer. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. Let's just say they've been gathering major dust, so they were practically screaming "PICK ME! PICK ME! PICK ME!" as I tried to find something that would cover my butt and not be super detected under jeans.

I felt so silly getting dressed after my shower. I was actively apologizing to myself. "I...I...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for even buying this crap. I'm sorry that at some point in my life I thought this was a good idea. I'm sorry I didn't do laundry." I looked in the mirror and all I could think of is Dylan Moran's opinion on lingerie:

"WE WANT WOMEN TO LOOK LIKE CAKES!!!"

Mission accomplished. Giant cupcake, 12 o'clock. At least my "Baby Cupcakes" were properly supported. That's right. Katie looked like a bakery.


I made up for it by doing my hair all messy, putting on more eye makeup than is medically safe, and wearing black. Lots and lots of black. And heels.

I covered up the cuteness with "I will cut anyone who even THINKS about asking why I'm wearing ruffled panties".

Gah. So embarrassing. Ruffles. Ruffles belong on potato chips, not underwears.

So I'm sitting here, sipping on the Diet Coke that better have flakes of gold in it, and I'm trying to tell myself that it's no big deal that my unders are cake-tastic.

I think real cake would at least be COMFORTABLE. Some nice soothing butter cream...

And now some sadness to take your mind off all the above:



Nope... I still feel like cake.

The Edge

Now before you jump to any conclusions, this is blog is not about David Howell Evans.



It's about this edge:



I've been teetering on the edge for quite some time.



(And yes, I'm aware that the picture says "Tetering". My bad. Pretend it's French for "Teetering")

I didn't realize just how stressed out I've been until I got done talking to Fren early this morning and I got ready for bed.

I noticed that my chestular region was kinda itchy, so I scratched and then looked at it.

When I get REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY stressed out, I break out in a rash.



I didn't have a little spot of rash. I had a FULL BLOWN HEAD TO TOE RASH.

Ugh. Apparently, I need to chill out. You know it's bad when your SKIN is telling you to calm the heck down.

I had a good day yesterday, though. I ate lunch with Liz and then I got to hang out with Libby and eat Chinese food. Ryan came up and chilled with us for awhile, then my brother called and he and our friend Collette came up. Ladies and gentlemen, we had a PARTY going on. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed so hard. It was awesome!

Then, I got to chat with Fren on Skype and I laughed even MORE.

I was the closest to "old Katie" as I had been for quite some time. It was nice. That's why the rash was a surprise. I thought I was on the mend.

So basically, I'm sitting at work and I'm itchy.

BUT I'M INCHING AWAY FROM THE EDGE, BY GOLLY!!! (Or my friends are dragging me away from it... I can't decide.)

Yay!

...

"I am sorry, but no more. The brain reaches a point, and then it whistles like a kettle." -Dylan Moran

Ode to a Backpack

Yesterday, I got a text from my brother and I almost fell over. No, it wasn't because my brother sent me a text, it was because of what the text SAID.

"Let's get some shoes."

To which I responded: "LOL! Where would we go get shoes?" (I was doubting excellent selection at our Walmart Supercenter. How RUDE of me.)

"Salina?"

So my BROTHER and I went SHOPPING last night. In SALINA.

It was awesome just to get out of town! Will bought some new Chucks, and I found a pair of Sketchers that I really liked. If you know me, you know that I don't buy a WHOLE lot of shoes. I have a two pairs of black boots (my one shoe vice!, one pair of Chucks, one pair of walking shoes, and flip flops. That's it. I think I have one pair of black dressy sandals. (You get the idea.) VERY rarely do I buy shoes. Especially "practical" ones as Will would say.

I liked these little shoes! They were grey, they slipped on, and they were on the CLEARANCE rack. Score, score, SCORE! One hiccup. No price tag. The "$59.99" tag was still intact, but let's face it, this girl was NOT going to pay $60 for a pair of shoes. I held on to them and walked to the counter with Will.

"You should barter with them and ask if they'll take $25 for them." he joked as we walked the remaining twenty five feet to the counter.

He was having fun making the girl behind the counter really uncomfortable and annoyed (she was a gem) while I stood there, racked with fear.

"What if they're too much? Will I have the power to put them back? I really DO need shoes... but... but... but..."

It was finally my turn.

"These were on the clearance rack, and they don't have a price on them." I said politely as I handed them to Little Ms. Sunshine.

"Do you want to know how much they are? Or do you want to buy them?"

"I want to know how much they are so I can decided if I would like to purchase them or not." I so smartly replied. Will looked amused.

She scanned the box as I prayed "Please please PLEASE don't let them be more than $30.00. I can do $30.00".

"They're $30.00. Do you want them?" she asked.

"Yes. I'll take them." I said calmly as I tried to suppress my inner "SQUEEEE!!!"

"I told her she should offer you $25.00." Will piped up. "It's the way they do it everywhere else. Wouldn't it be interesting if we could do that?"

Little Ms. Sunshine was not amused. She could not scan my debit card fast enough.

After our little shoe adventure, we went to Old Navy and scored some sweet sweet deals! Will got a handsome cream colored shirt (I told him I would have to beat the girls off of him with a stick.), I got a blue sweater, and he got a red and blue checked shirt. But get this. My blue sweater: $1.97. Will's blue and red checked shirt: $.97!!!!

Yay Old Navy!

By then it was almost time for the mall to close so we got in the car and meandered down to Target. Found a couple things, bought ibuprofen for the sick roomie, and then I decided to look for a backpack.

See, every year when it gets all nice outside, I vow to myself that I'm going to start biking to work. This year, I AM going to make good on that promise, and since I have a laptop and drawing tablet to lug around now, I decided I was going to need a suitable pack to carry it all in.

Target had nothing so we decided to go across the way to Walmart.

And I found it. (Or rather Will did.)


(Mine is brown and tan, not black, but this is it.)

It. Is. So. PERFECT!!!

I can put my laptop, tablet, mouse, and all my cords in one pocket. I can put my wallet, keys, and other import "pursey" things in another pocket. I can tote my lunch in the very front pocket, my water bottle in one of the side pockets, and my phone in the other.

I AM IN LOVE!!!

(If you know me, you know how excited I get about new carrying aparatuses.)

I have shoes, I have a pack, now I just need the wind to die down and some air in my tires and I'm SET!!!

WOOOO HOOOOOO!!!

Growth

I'm sitting here with my old friends Pepsi and "The Suburbs" by Arcade Fire. Life is good.

Today is one of my very favorite days of the year, the day I like to call "The first day you can go to work dressed in spring attire." That's right, I busted out my very favorite sundress and my favorite black capri-length leggings! Oh, and don't forget my flip flops. (Which I totally broke last night by kicking Fren in the butt. He deserved it!!!)

I'm sitting here, in my office with seven windows, just watching the traffic and the clouds. (Traffic. Haha. Traffic in McPherson is more than 5 cars at the corner of First and Main.) Spring is in the air and I'm loving it.

My two most favorite seasons are Spring and Fall. Spring because it brings about growth and new life and Fall because everything dies so it can start all over again. Winter is just cold and Summer is only enjoyable if you look good in a bikini, but I digress.

Spring is here and I am happy.



I finally finished my book about insecurity on Saturday. The last part of the book was even better than the first part and I didn't think that was even possible.

Needless to say, on Saturday I was feeling pretty good. My brother asked me if I wanted to go to a party with him and I said "Baby steps...". I don't know why, but dancing in a tiny apartment and getting drunk just doesn't appeal to me.

Call me crazy.

(Not knocking it for everybody else, but it's not on "Katie's list of awesome times". I had my crazy alcoholic period.)

Made it through Saturday pretty much unscathed. Woke up Sunday, watched church (since I didn't go to Wichita on Saturday), showered, loaded Cordy up, and drove down to Mom and Dad's.

And then things started to go a little crazy. I just had a bunch of dumb statements thrown in my direction. Like "Why would you even say that?" statements. But isn't that the way it goes when you're trying to change something for the better? You're always going to feel attacked.

I didn't let them effect me. Normally, I would've second guessed EVERYTHING and contemplated major change in my life, such as never putting an ice cube in my coffee ever again. (WHO EVEN FRIKKIN CARES?!?!?)

I drove home at 11:00 last night and I just prayed for all the confusion to go away. I prayed that I would be able to weed through the picky statements and listen to the things that really DO need to change in my life. I prayed that the emotional confusion would go away.

I can feel myself becoming defensive and belligerent every time someone says something negative. And I don't want to be like that. Been there, done that. Let's just say NOTHING positive came of it.

I'm trying to grow in a different direction.

(AND I DON'T HAVE TO PARTY TO ACCOMPLISH THAT!!!)

Boredom + Drawing =

The One Where I Fight A Spider

I had the worlds WORST dreams last night. OK, maybe not the worst, but they were highly disturbing.

In the first one, I kept falling asleep at the wheel and spinning out of control on the highway. I was with Justin and some other guy that I've known forever, but I have honestly NEVER hung out with him and neither one offered to drive.

So after sliding off the road 3 times, we get pulled over. It's a lady policeman officer and she's like "Are you OK? We have witnesses that say you've been knocking people off the road." and then approximately 3 cars filled with angry Asian teens pull up beside the police car and start yelling at me in Chinese. (Because teenagers are the gold standard by which we all should drive?)

I get taken to a small police station in the middle of nowhere and the cop lady levels with me. "I won't lock you up, I'll even make it to where you don't have to go to court. You just have to pay this ticket before you can go."

"How much is the ticket?"

"It's only $500.00"

"But I don't have that much on my debit card!"

And it was 2am, and I didn't want my parents to know, so I was stuck in an ethical pickle, Roy. I mean, I was FREAKING OUT.

And then I woke up.

Second dream, one of my ex boyfriends reappeared to try and win me back. He'd been on a "Year-long pilgrimage of cool" and had rediscovered himself as a hipster artist. (Therefore cool enough to date me? Huh?) In reality, he just looked like a insane, not at all funny version of Bill Hader with crazy hair, Buddy Holly glasses, skinny jeans, a cut off sweatshirt and paint splatters all over him.

I woke up faster from that one, praise the Lord.

All in all, when I got up, I felt relieved that the ticket was false and my record was still clean, and I was just generally grossed out by the boyfriend dream. So grossed out that I needed a shower...immediately.

I turned on the water, and I was brushing all the nastiness out of my hair in preparation for shower time when I glanced at the floor and saw it.

Can you spot what might have possibly disturbed my otherwise calm pre-shower rituals?

Yep. We had a code nine arachnid situation, folks.

Now, see, back in my younger years, I used to catch bugs in the house and return them to there natural habitat of "not inside my house". I'd been known to do this for some spiders, too. Mostly jumping spiders. They were obviously lost, poor things. It wasn't their fault that their internal GPS had mistakenly led them inside my humble abode. I would find a cup, scoop them inside, place a kleenex buffer over the top of the cup (in case they were in a bitey mood), go out on the back deck and SET THEM FREEEEEE!!!

Upon closer inspection, I realized this little guy was halfway gone anyway. Poor thing.

I severely underestimated him.



He was not a kind little lost jumping spider.

This guy was pure evil. He wanted a fight. I could sense it. The force was strong with this one. (Too much?)


Who knew that spiders could be different nationalities?

Fortunately for me, I happened to have a pair of boots in my bathroom. (Don't judge me.) I can't remember exactly WHY they were in my bathroom, but this was clearly the hand of Providence.



Unfortunately for me, they were boots with a very round toe. Not optimal for killing a spider as there are lots of points of escape, but I had no time to be picky.

I missed. Apparently, I am as good at killing spiders as I am at golfing.



He sped up.



"That's it. You're going DOWN, you cocky little French spider, you!!!" I said, quite confident of myself.

And then that statement of confidence was followed by an "ARE YOU FOR REAL?!?!?!" as I missed AGAIN.



Oh. It was on. Like Donkey Kong. By the hammer of Thor, I was going to MUTILATE this thing.

I raised my "shoe hand" (the other one was holding my towel up, therefore it was called "towel hand") and with the look of a crazed, homicidal maniac, I brought the pain.



I hit my mark this time. And by hit, I mean "spewed steaming spider guts all over the floor".

A huge smile came over my face as I flushed his disgusting little carcass down the toilet.

Hearts!!! (And Love vs. Attatchment)

Hey! Look everybody!!! Katie's talking about the "L" word again! ("I'm in lesbians with you", dear reader. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go watch "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World". NOW!)

Anyhoot.

This morning as I was getting ready to make my return journey to the McPherson place (you know, that one little town where I live) I heard a song.

It was a song that I hadn't heard in a very long time. It was...wait for it...a song that always makes me tear up. Now, I realize that this blog is doing nothing but succeeding in making me seem like a big cry baby. I really don't cry that often. REALLY. There are just certain songs that bring back certain memories. (It's the ex factor, I'm pretty sure. I'm not still in love with him, but I still have moments where I feel attached. There IS a difference! And they don't happen often. Bleh. DIGGING A HOLE.)

Again with the anyhoot.

(I'm over my ex until certain songs come on. Hole is still being dug...)

The song was "Dreaming With a Broken Heart" by John Mayer. As a general rule, I am NOT a John Mayer fan, but something about this song...just gets to me. My eyes started watering immediately, and I had to hide it because


And that's when I started praying and simultaneously yelling at myself. It was like "Lord, please make me stop crying." "KATIE! SHUUUTTT UPPPP!!!! Why are tears coming out of your face? SUCK IT UP!!!"

See, the truth of the matter is that my heart isn't BROKEN. It's more like Butthurt. (Anyone remember "Laguna Beach"? Anyone?)

This would've made a WAAAY better song:


I mean, who WOULDN'T buy that album? I know I would! (I guess "Broken Heart" had a better ring to it. Whatev.)

Here's an illustration that explains the "Broken Heart" vs "Butthurt Heart" phenomenon.




I was praying MORE about my butthurt heart on the way home and I realized that my heart isn't even really butthurt. And if it was, the only reason it would be so is because I wasn't getting my way and my life isn't going EXACTLY the way I want it to. Big whoop. Most times, you want one thing one day and another thing the next day anyway, so yeah.

Not getting your way doesn't equal a broken heart.

It doesn't equal a butthurt heart.

Does it equal a SPOILED heart, maybe?


Bleh. Not a fan of that one. (But it's probably closest to what I've got.)

Just because you don't get what you want, or your life isn't going how you expected it to, it doesn't mean that your heart has to be broken, or butthurt, or even spoiled.

Sometimes God just takes you down an unexpected path.

And sometimes you have NO IDEA what He's doing with it... or how long you're going to be on that path, but He is still most certainly in control.

(And for the record, I really AM unattached to my ex person now. Go me!)

Indirect Direct Messages

Do you ever wish you had one of those tin can and string phones that you could talk to God with?



My Dad would say "That's why we have prayer, Katie."

Yes, I'm aware of that, but sometimes I wish the answers were just a little more direct sometimes.

"That's why we need faith."

Dangit! Quit arguing with me! This is MY blog!!!

You get the idea.

I have this situation that I've been praying about for months. It's not really a "situation" it's more of a want, I guess? I should say I've been needing direction on a few things.

After getting no definitive answers and feeling emotionally worn out, I finally got an answer the other day. I was praying and I felt this definite instruction.



OK... not what I wanted to hear, but at least it gives me a direction to go in for sure.

I gave it a few days...a week...a month. I had a few more things come up so I prayed again and heard, once again.



Grr. Alright. I'm going to be OK with this, but will I ever get an answer, Lord?

So I decide to send a message to my friend Amy just to see what she says. She's a good friend and we message back and forth when we're frustrated. (Both divorced, both single, you get the drift.) I know God gives me words to tell her because the things that come out of me when I'm "talking" to her, there is just NO WAY I could come up with them on my own.

So I poured out this message to her. I was frustrated and confused, I didn't know what to do and she sent me a nice message back with this towards the end:



I just need to wait, I guess? Is that what I'm picking up from all this?

On one hand, it's great that I'm getting the same answer from several sources. It's not like I feel like God is saying one thing and my godly counsel is saying another. On the other hand, it's still frustrating.

At least one of the situations I was unsure how to approach and therefore "waiting" on was remedied this morning.

I have a sudden overwhelming need to listen to Richard Marx now... (And if anyone gets that joke, give yourself a pat on the back!)

Getting Scientific?

When I started this blog, I started it as a fun place to tell my silly (mostly self-depricating) stories, provide the occasional uplifting content and try to get through the darkest time of my life without going to the looney bin. I also wanted it to be somewhere where I could experiment with certain things or do-it-yourself projects and post my findings. I mean, nothing MAJOR. Just silly things that I could heap embarassment on myself and possibly spare some friends of mine.

Like, for instance, I always wondered what it would be like to have a wig.

Not a Halloween wig. I mean a REAL, PROPER, WIG.

I wondered "What would it be like to go to bed with SHORT hair and then wake up and go to work with LONG (possibly different colored) hair?!?!?"

The possibilities are ENDLESS!!! You could go to bed UGLY and then wake up and go to work PRETTY!!! Consider it!!!!!!!! I mean, I can't lose 50 lbs or one of my chins overnight, but dangit, I CAN remove the emphasis from my saddlebags and project it upward to my suddenly long, flowing, and luscious hair.

Anyone else ever been curious about a wig? Ever?

Well, wonder no more! I bought one!

And it makes me look like a Kardashian. You know, the pale, Irish sister. Kathleen. Kathleen O'Kardashian.

(Ok, strike that last paragraph. It was really stupid. Even for me.)

ANYWHO...

Bought a wig. It's incredible. I drew a picture of how it transformed me.



That's right... do you SEE that?

Here is an actual photograph of me RIGHT after I put it on:



You can sense my hesitation at first. Kind of a "Yes, I FEEL instantly glamorous, but I'm wondering if I could ever feel glamorous outside of my basement abode..." look.

More wondering: "Will people laugh at me? Will they be like 'Um...your hair was pink yesterday... and now it's significantly longer AND brown WITH highlights...' Will they think I am a babe and immediately throw a modeling contract in my face?" (Those are just the FIRST THREE questions that popped into my head.)

The main reason I wanted to buy the wig is to see if I'd even look good if I continued growing my hair out. The answer to that question:

YOU LOOK SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER WITH LONG, NORMAL HAIR. MAYBE YOU MIGHT EVEN GET SOMEONE TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU. OH MY GOSH DON'T EVER TAKE THE WIG OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Almost] Everything looks better when I'm wearing the wig. Check it out:

Talking on the phone with my Mom? SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER!





My Springtime sunglasses (they're already awesome...)? SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER!!!!




My mad scientist glasses? They make me look like a HOTT scientist now! SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER!!!



New hat... wait for it... SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER!!!



Ridicously large bow? Um... the hair still looks nice.



Picking my teeth because I didn't know what else to do? Gross, but I look better than usual.



Kristin and I have decided that I'm going to wear the wig OUT some day and we'll see if I get any favorable attention from the male types.

This could be entertaining! Stay tuned!

Soup.

If you're asking why I entitled this one "Soup", let me just put all your questioning to rest and answer it with this: I have absolutely no idea. It just sounded like a good idea at the time.

This weekend was fantastic. From start to finish. I have absolutely no complaints. (I mean, there were hiccups here and there, but that's to be expected.)

Friday night, I got to see Fren. Saturday, I got to eat Bella Luna with the roomie, hang with my parents, go to church, see my brother for a few minutes, go see Fren again (and eat WAAAAAAY too much food) and forget about daylight savings time. Sunday, I made a mad dash back to Mac to hang out with my Justin, Libby, and Ryan friends. See, I hang out with Justin all the time, and Libby and Ryan and Justin hang out, but with Libby and Ryan, I had mostly a Facebook frienship. (Even though I had a least MET and CONVERSED with Libby before and I was 99.9% certain that Ryan was a real [and non serial killer] person.) We ALLLLLL got to hang out yesterday.

Let. Me. Tell. You.

The four of us = unstoppable. We are the opposite of unawesome. (For those of you having trouble keeping up with that, it means that we are awesome.)

I had sooooo much fun! Cosmosphere + Freddy's Frozen Custard + Hastings + Driving home in an EXTREMELY UNEXPECTED snow/ice/sleet storm + Board game at Libby's = One heck of an incredible day.

It was great!



(Had there been a tree nearby, cold weather attire, a proper utensil, and a desire to vandalize nature, I am confident this would've happened yesterday.)

It was just fantastic!!!

I went home (after Justin was my knight in shining armor and brushed all the snowy muck off of my unprepared Toyota) and told Kristin of all the wonder and magnificence that I had experienced in the day. Got ready for bed, talked to Fren, decided to watch some Dylan Moran stand up, cried a few tears (approximately 3), felt silly for crying, so I decided to sleep in my newly purchased owl hat. I call it "OwlHat". (Orginality FTW!)

I woke up feeling down. I mean, come on! How do you come off a weekend like that and NOT feel sad because it's Monday?

Even though I was sad, I felt peaceful as I sat up in bed and scooted to the edge so I could get up and go let Cordy out. I just sat there for a minute and looked at myself in the mirror. And I cried again. But just a little.

"Who sleeps in an OWL HAT? Ugh. You're such a weirdo sometimes." (Do you like how I'm not concerned about talking to myself? I'm just concerned about HEADGEAR!!!)

And then I felt that peace again. Like a hug from Jesus.



I like that feeling. It makes things better. (I'm obviously not really a baby person, but I liked that picture.)

I had singing shower times and just as I was getting ready to put on my makeup, I heard it. The 3 piano chords that I do NOT want to hear when I am actively trying to NOT cry!



I lost it. I mean, I made the ugly cry face. It was like 3,000 tears this time.

I looked in the mirror and came face to face with someone I didn't want to see and it broke my heart. I don't want to be this person, but she's looking at me in the mirror.

I'm never going to be the positive girl with the long normal colored hair, perfect teeth, and a great personality. I'm always going to be Katie, the girl with the double chins, pink hair, weird sense of humor, snorty laugh and gas problems. (And let's not forget that I'm the Hyperbole Queen.)



It made me sad to look in the mirror because there I was, begging Katie to love Katie.

And if Ryan, Libby, and Justin had been there, listening to the stupidity pouring out of my mouth, they'd say:

"It's ok. You were born this way."

Friends + use of Lady Gaga lyrics to describe everything = Win.

Don't Count Your Chickens!

I stayed up til 4 AM talking to my Best Fren Forever on Skype. I'm a little on the sleepy side, but it was super fun and therefore worth it. (Just don't expect me to form any proper sentences today.)

I got up, showered, went upstairs to let Cordy out and make my lunch to take with me to work. Halfway between spreading hummus on the second piece of bread and applying the reduced fat provalone cheese (that's right... APPLYING), I noticed that I was hearing quite a bit more of the outside noises than I usually hear when Cordy is out. The screen door was cracked.

I walked around the corner and peeked at the door to discover this:



Fool cat. Maybe you shouldn't try to get in the house. You might get your head caught.

Just sayin.

And he expected me to COMFORT him after I freed his fool head! (Which I may or may not have done.... <_< >_>)

I finished my creating my piece of sandwich art, cut up a nectarine and put it in the fridge for later.

I had walked back downstairs when I heard my phone chime. I had an email. I opened it only to be disappointed. It was from "people.com".

"How on earth? What? I do not care about you, people.co......"

And then I saw the headline:

"Getting to Know Ryan Reynolds...."



I opened the email and saw the WHOLE headline:

"Getting to Know Ryan Reynolds New Gal Agnes Fischer"



JUMPING TO CONCLUSTIONS FAIL!!!

Is there a moral to this story?

Yes. Make sure your front door is secured so the cat can't get in. (Didn't see that coming, did ya?)

You're welcome.