Not So Funny... But I Ain't Dead.

Dear Ryan and Libby, (And whoever else is reading this.)

Hold on. The phone is ringing.

Ok, I'm back.

So... you know how I told you this morning has been the worst and weirdest of all the mornings? Yeah. It's been kinda like this:

GO HERE AND FAST FORWARD TO 1MIN 13 SEC AND WATCH UNTIL 1:52 ISH.

Yeah.

It all started out innocent enough, and then I went to get in the shower.

I DISCOVERED SUNBURN. MAJOR MAJOR SUNBURN. (You may recall that I went to the pool yesterday. I applied sunscreen and I was only out for an hour and a half, but apparently I did not apply as much as I thought I had to my shoulders and boobular region.)

I decided to use dandruff shampoo on my hairs because once the hot water hit, I discovered that my scalp was also very badly sunburned.

Dandruff shampoo, meet left eye. Left eye, meet lots and lots of water. Right eye, meet run-off dandruff shampoo. Water, meet right eye. Now that we're all friends, washcloth, meet both eyelids and scratch right cornea. Badly.

Get the picture?

I'm thinking not nice words. I'm literally yelling "OUCH OUCH OUCH!!! OWIE!!!! DEAR JESUS, MAKE IT STOP!!!" I'm trying to get out of the shower and dry myself off so I can find some eye drops, all while essentially blind.

I put on towels, I look for drops. I canny find drops.

I run upstairs because my roommate SURELY has some. I narrowly avoid putting Clear Care in my eyes. (Thank you, Jesus, for having my back on that one.) I see re wetting drops. I tilt my head back. They're empty. In fact, it's just air. Air hurts. Concentrated air hurts MORE. I see a box of new ones in the cabinet. I rip them open. I struggle with the safety seal for approximately 2 min and 7 seconds. I FINALLY get a few drops in my eyes.

Left eye, mission accomplished. Right eye, still buggered up cornea.

(Kristin, if it looks like a crazy tornado person ripped through your bathroom and used some eye drops, you now know why. I owe you approximately 5 drops.)

I am thinking to myself "I need to go to the eye Dr? No. They fired you. You are NOT going back. You are NOT giving them any money. What did the Drs do for corneas? CONTACT LENSES! I THINK I STILL HAS THEM!!!"

I has colored ones.

I thought about rocking the "One brown eye, one green eye" look, but then I decided against it. So I found my "Eden" colored ones. They're basically clear contacts with a rim of green glitter.

After I got them in, I looked in the mirror. I have had better days.


Who am I kidding? I'm totally rocking the blotchy sunburn and bloodshot eye look. Tyra Banks ain't got nothin on me. I am FIERCE.

Being thusly dubbed "Her Royal Fierceness", I decided to put on a shirt over my undershirt. I thought I saw a little clump of hair on the shirt I wanted to wear (my contacts are outdated, gimme a break) and when I went to grab it, it suddenly moved.

THAT'S BECAUSE IT WAS NOT A CLUMP OF HAIR AT ALL!!! IT WAS A BROWN RECLUSE SPIDER!!!

I then bludgeoned it to death with a can of hairspray.

So, yeah. I'm still alive. No poisonous spider bites, just a bloodshot eye and some crispy bits. I'll manage.

Love,

Katie

Farewell, Old Friend.

This week, I said goodbye to one of my oldest and dearest friends:

My bed.

We had been through a lot, my bed and I. I received it as a consolation prize in 1987 when it was clear that I was being replaced.


It took the sting off a bit, I guess. Maybe if I was distracted by an endless sea of bed, I wouldn't notice the ever-screaming infant on the other end of the house.

(Just kidding. I loved my baby brother. Still do. I was a tad disappointed when they brought home a baby wearing the opposite of pink, but I got over it.)

I remember laying on the end of that bed and peeking through the crack in my door to watch movies when my parents thought I was asleep. (I remember "Big" in particular. I thought Tom Hanks was so cute.) I played out some of my finest dramatic performances (aka "temper tantrums") on that bed. (I also fell out of that bed a lot. The last time was this past March. I am not proud of that fact.)

That bed was a covered wagon as I travelled the Oregon Trail. It was a ship sailing to America for a better life for me and my baby dolls. It was a hospital bed in Africa as I lay dying slowly and dramatically from some exotic disease.

That bed was also a jail cell when I didn't want to take a nap or when I was *gasp* grounded.

I dreamt my little girl dreams in that bed. I dreamt my not-as-little girl dreams in that bed. I dreamt my really-not-so-little girl dreams in that bed.

I took a little break from my bed when I got married, but whenever I got sick, I still returned to it. It was my place of comfort. That bed knew me.

I cried in that bed when my dreams fell apart and I found myself alone again.

My surroundings always changed, but my bed was always the same. It was home.

This year, I got old and started waking up with awful aches and pains. I felt like I'd be run over by a truck every morning.

"You need a new bed.", Mom and Dad said.

"Nooooooo....?", I replied.

I had fought them on this subject for at LEAST 10 years. I finally surrendered when they got a new king sized bed and promised me their cushy queen.

The queen won't fit down the stairs and into my house, so I settled for a twin.

This Thursday, I helped Mom carry my old friend up the stairs. When Dad Steve volunteered to take it to the transfer station for me, I help lay it against the wall on my side of the garage.


I know it sounds silly, but when I walked out of the garage, I was SOOOOO SAD. I didn't feel like I had just left behind a mattress and a box spring. I felt like I was walking out on my life up until that point.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for my new little bed, I am. I sound like such a silly little girl, I should just be damn glad that I don't have to sleep on a floor like most of the world!

It was a shock, my first night in my little bed. (I think Cordy might have been more shocked. It's a tight squeeze for the both of us.) It was my bed at Mom and Dad's new house, so we've been through some tough times too. It's seen me cry before. It was nothing new when I started crying "I MISS MY BED!!!" Thursday night.

I'm sorry, little new bed. I'll be better, I promise.

And then when it's time to get rid of you, I'll write YOU a long blog post.

R.I.P. Old bed. I miss you.


*-*-* Old Bed *-*-*
*-*-* 198?- 2011 *-*-*

Whoa.

Dear 1839,
Please stop being greedy and send Robert Cornelius to us. Sharing is caring.
Kthanxbye,
Katie

MUSTACHE NIGHT!!!

There is something incredible about sitting at a table. In a restaurant. Surrounded by the best of your friends. The people who will always love you and be there for you no matter what.

There is something EVEN MORE incredible about being surrounded by the best of your friends... in fake mustaches. (I'm just putting up the pictures that I have so far. I'll update once I raid Kristin's camera.)

Libby took these pictures and collaged them. 'Cause she coo. Weren't Justin's mustaches just super cool? And the one perched on the glass was Libby's. She went for the Wilford Brimley look. Just wait til I get a picture of her on here!!!


This was my mustache, but you saw it on yesterday's blog.


(I drew a terribly [in]accurate picture of all of us on Kristin's to-go box.)
From left: Andy, Planet Andy, Rusty, Kiki, Justin, Adam, Me, Libby, Doug, and Staci.


And if Ben Gibbard had been there, he would have looked like this:


Obviously, some of my people were missing. :( But that's just the way it goes sometimes!

(More pictures and stories coming soon!!!)

(Update, 7:45pm)

Kristin was nice enough to bring her camera inside from the outside and let me do this before I leave. PICTURES!!!

Justin's creepin.


Awww! Look at how cute we are! (I TOLD you Wilfred Brimley Libby was awesome!)


My favorite Doug and my favorite Staci! I just realized that Doug was mustacheless. Whaaaa? Way to go, Staci, for keeping with the theme. (Doug, it's ok. We all still love you.)


There should be some pictures of Rusty and Adam here, but they had REAL mustaches, so they didn't need their picture taken. They just would've looked normal. (Also, Adam doesn't read "silly blogs" so why should I reward him for such terrible behavior by putting his picture on my blog?) XD

Hey! Look! It's the famous Andy (with Candy)!!! And my dashing roomie.


Ashlie (who we also didnae get any pictures of, booooo hisss!) found some stick on mustaches, so we were all tryin thems on. This is my Don Juan face.


This is my Katie... but with a mustache...face.


Andy wore my glasses.


Kristin looks like her Dad!!!


Oh ho ho!!!!!


It was a super duper evening! Friends, foods, and false facial fuzz FTW!!!

So Far Today...

I woke up late.
I fell down the outside stairs in my rush out to my car.
I got behind a street sweeper on the way to work and I couldn't get around it because the side streets were all closed.
I sold the last LG Accolade in stock and the "send" key doesn't work.
I wore a dress, got to work, realized I didn't shave my legs this morning.
I found out that my deodorant left white stuff all over said dress.

My bum hurts. My arm hurts.

I turned on my computer...


Oh hai, Rory!

Today is going to get better. I am willing it to be so.

Mustache night tonight at Applebees! Be there or be square!

Funny Story...

I woke up this morning, put my hair in piggytails, and dressed in a pretty skirt/shirt combooooo.

Called my Mom on the way to work, and as I pulled out of the alley, my car made an awful noise.

Being that I have a GREAT history with flat tires, I immediately stopped my car, got out, and inspected my tires.

Everything was fine, so I got back in my car and started on.

The noise started again.

I stopped my car, opened my door, looked under my car and there it was. A pesky branch that was, of course, out of my reach. I had my hazard lights on, and a policeman cop passed me right by. Thanks, guy. (It was probably Tyler.)

So, if you were driving down Maple street at approx. 8:48am, you probably saw this:



At least I had shorts on under my cute skirt.

I got to work and had to dig asphalt out of my knee skin and I had grease all over my arm, but the noise stopped.

Not being a damsel in distress/fixing things for youself as a single lady/not having a SERIOUS problem with your car FTW!!!

Name Tags

Today was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

An excerpt:

Customer: Is this a picture of the staff here?
Me: Yep! That was a year ago.
Customer: Is that you in the middle?
Me: Sure is.
Customer: You looked better last year.

And the stories only get BETTER from there. (I mean seriously. By 3:28pm, I was ready to pull a "Forest Gump" and just start runnang.)

I had a woman that I used to go to church with come in and while I was helping her, I noticed she kept staring at my stomach. I hadn't eaten lunch yet and I my tummy was a bit distended. I sooooooo wanted to look at her and say "I'm not pregnant, just a little bloaty."

AND THEN I HAD A SCATHINGLY BRILLIANT IDEA.

Wouldn't it be great if we all had name tags?


^^^ Nosey ladies need judge no more! ^^^


^^^ We've all wanted to wear this one at one time or another, am I right? ^^^


^^^ This one's just awkward. Talk about late to the party. This guy would've been totes super cool in 2009. ^^^


^^^ Don't be this guy either. But it'd be nice if they came with a label... (Like their breath isn't already a clue?) ^^^


^^^ For so many girls at so many parties, this one is so true. ^^^


^^^ (This one is so true as well...) ^^^


^^^ This one would be super handy for all the people who feel it is their duty to give you helpful hints and tips on your personal appearance, even though it is SUPER APPARENT that they haven't bathed since Nixon was in office. ^^^


^^^ Avoid the person wearing this one at all costs. Their 4th grade handwriting matches their 4th grade musical taste. RED FLAG. ^^^


^^^ Sometimes, the tags might be a bit TOO truthful...might wanna rethink that one if you're attending a "Single? Wanna mingle?" event. ^^^


^^^ (See previous statement.) ^^^


^^^ Why are you out in public? Don't you have a video game you could be playing or some message board you could be trolling? (Broad generalizations are broad.) ^^^


^^^ Sometimes, the tags could be super helpful in helping you avoid the dangerous types. ^^^


^^^ (That would've been useful info...) ^^^


^^^ (Again, USEFUL!) ^^^


^^^ Awwww. This person is nice. If they aren't also wearing a "Serial Killer" label, take 'em home to Ma! ^^^

If you had a name tag, or had to tag someone else, what would it say?