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?

La Photocabine

Got my chocolate protein shake. Got my Genesis station going.

Nutrition: Check
Phil Collins: Check

I am ready to face the day!

Yesterday, I discovered a website: La Photocabine

La Photocabine is OBVIOUSLY a fancy (non-American) language, and when translated, it roughly means "Awesome waster of time and bringer of much silliness and joy". (I said roughly...)

I mean, maybe I'm just late to the La Photocabine party, but I'm fairly certain it is better than sliced bread.

This was my first one:


I like the range of emotions.

Top left: "Look! I am cute!"
Top right: "Who am I kidding? I am not cute."
Bottom left: "Yeah. Definitely not cute."
Bottom right: "Oh no! People are going to know how not cute I am! My cover is blown."

I had so much fun with the first one, that I decided to drag Cordy in on the fun:


My dog is cooler than your dog. My face is still ridiculous, and that's just how I like it.

Hey! This is awesome! Kristin, come make one!


Ok. We couldn't stop laughing. Fail. Let's try again.


Bottom left: She spit on me.
Bottom right: She realized it.

This is not working! One more time! Also, this booth is so small!


It's a little known fact that Kristin turns into "Emo Cousin It" after ingesting Tres Amigos Mexican cuisine.

Top left: I am concerned for my fate.
Top right: Um.
Bottom left: Look at Kristin, super actress, staying in character.
Bottom right: Aaaaaand she's done. Literal facepalm.

We successed it up in the entertainment department. Go us!

Everyone go try it and send me the results!

Down the Rabbit Hole

I just love my days off. I get to wear what I want. I also get to spend copious amounts of time on the internet.

That's right.

Copious.

I also love the days when you get online and you see one thing, find something you ADORE about it, research THAT, and then so on and so on.

Like, for instance, my Facebook friend Sarah Reeves posted this video the other day.

Elsie & Jeremy | May 15th 2011 from Goodwin Films on Vimeo.

(I call Sarah my "Facebook friend" because we've seen each other enough times to be friends on a social networking site, but we've never really hung out.)

I watched the video and I was all "OH MAH GAW" and I realized two things. 1) I canNOT wait until I'm done with my scenes in the movie so I can cut my bangs!!! 2) I noticed that I really liked the music so I turned on my SoundHound and figured out what the song was.

And that led me to discover the band Camera Obscura, so I went to YouTube Disco and typed them in. And that led me to the song "Forests & Sands"



And that made me cry/well up with joy. I don't know why. I just really liked it. This song also caused me to randomly print a picture of a cabbage rose and tape it to my computer, "Bluto".


(Sorry, Bluto, but it makes you so PRETTY!)

Other than adventures on the internets, yesterday I went places with my Mom, ate lunch with Liz at 11, we did some shopping at a second hand store, nails done at 1, dog sat while Mom went to see some of her McPherson peeps, ate dinner with Mom and Bill, went by Mama Gelene's and saw Luke, Allison, Shulah, and everyone else, went back home, Justin came over, Mom had to stay at my house for a bit due to tornados in Wichita (Dad was at home with no power, watching the storms), Mom accidentally said "Pornado", Justin made a joke about a tornado blowing through and adult bookstore, Kristin made cookies, and we all lived happily ever after.

BUSY DAY.

Also, I think I made my brother angry with my choice of clothes. (What's not to love about a turquoise embroidered top with a cheetah print cardigan and cut off jean shorts?)

Whatev.

I scored two sweet dresses, a sweet sweater, and a sweet SWEET skirt during Liz & I's shopping adventures yesterday. I need to start taking pictures of my stuff, because it's cool. No matter what Bill says.

I have turned into such a random person lately.

I don't even really LIKE flowers...

Names

I know, I know. This is turning into an "OMG DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE BLOG". Not really. It's just my latest CD and I can't stop listening to it.

"Unobstructed Views" is one of those songs that is just so pretty that it makes me cry. It's kind of haunting as well. And those are the best two things that something can be?



I'll admit it. I don't have the GREATEST attitude today but I'm trying. I really am.

It started out OK, and then I took the tone of something my mother said the wrong way (Possibly. I mean, she MIGHT have meant it despite saying "I didn't mean it any certain way.") and then I got to work and my co-workers are at each others throats.

I'm about to stick a flower on my head and go around laughing maniacally.

I just had a grumpy old man come in and bark at me for a "110 volt charger". Being the brain fart that I am on days like this, I had to whisper to Ryan "That's a WALL charger, right?"

How hard is it to indicate "House" or "Car" when asking for a charger? I guess "110 volt" or "12 volt" just sounds fancier.

Also, his name was Dwayne. There are two names in this world that I just cannot stand, and I do not know why.

1) Dwayne
2) Brad

Bradley is perfectly acceptable in some cases, but something about Brad just...bleh. And Chad. Brad and Chad. Not cool. (Now, watch. God's gonna have some INCREDIBLE guy come beboppin into my life and his name is going to be CHAD.)

Anyway, as I was writing the receipt for Mr. Sunshine-110-volt-charger-man, I asked his name. "DWAYNE" was his short and unpleasant reply. I thought for a moment about asking him how he spells his name so I could be sure to write it CORRECTLY on the receipt so he wouldn't think I was dumber than he had already assessed.

"Just spell it 'Dwayne'.", I thought to myself. "I mean, how else would you spell it? D-W-A-I-N? Only a weirdo would spell it that way. And if you ask, he's going to shoot you another death glare."

He handed me his debit card. How was it spelled? "Dwain".

Facepalm. Figures.

Ok. I'ma finish my protein shake, put in some earplugs, and today should be a breeze!

What's the Opposite of Hispanic? Norwegian.

The Belly of the Beast

"Life is sweet
In the belly of the beast
In the belly of the beast"

This blog post has been about a week in the making. I kept sitting down to write it and then I'd get frustrated and scrap the whole thing. I see now that more things needed to happen in the story before I could start writing about it. My words are too small.

The above lyrics are from the below video of "Stay Young, Go Dancing" by Death Cab for Cutie.



I first heard it the night Cordy and I were sick and watching Vh1. Something about it just stuck with me.

I keep having to wade through muck after muck after muck, and every time I'm tempted to just throw my hands in the air and go "THAT'S IT!!!! I'M DONE!!!", I keep hearing "Life is sweet in the belly of the beast, in the belly of the beast..."

Over and over.

Even when you can't see it, life is sweet.



I had another "talk" with God the other day. It may have been more of an argument? I kept saying "I've given you my whole heart! What else is there?"

"All of it?"

"Yes! All of it! I don't know what part of 'All' You aren't getting!"

"What about ______?"

"Oh..."

"And _______?"

"Well, You see? Um..."

Yeah. After I added it up, the "All" I was giving Him equalled about 83%.


Oops...

Yeah. No one wants to hear this:


How absurd.



Point taken.

So I was getting ready for bed the next day and we had "the talk" again.

"How much do you love me?"

"With my whole heart."

"Enough to do anything?"

"Um... yes?"

"Enough to give up so-and-so?"

OUCH.

My heart fell.

The last time I had this type of talk with God, I was getting married and I knew I shouldn't be.

"You know you aren't doing right. You need to give him up."

"NO! God, this is the ONE THING that You canNOT take away from me!!!"

I bawled and bawled and bawled.

I stuck to my guns.

My husband WAS taken away from me, alright. And in the long run, it was INFINITELY more painful that it would've been if I'd just been obedient and let him go in the first place.

So here it was again. The same question. Not a fiance this time though.

"But, God. So-and-so's just my FRIEND!"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me enough to let him go? Even though he's your friend?"

I knew what the answer needed to be. I wasn't happy. I finally said "Yes. You can have him. Even if it means we can't be friends anymore, I give it to You."

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. OUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(And it was for real. It wasn't a "I'm saying this so You'll see that I'm being obedient and You'll change your mind." thing. You can't use reverse psychology on GOD!!!)

OUCH!!!

I put it out of my mind and didn't think anything else of it.

At church on Saturday, we were singing and I noticed some of the songs pertained to what I'd been dealing with all week. The first two songs, I was like "Ok, God. What are you doing?"

And then we started singing a song I'd never heard. It was a DEFINITE set up.

"Lover of my soul
I want to tell you
Only you have all of me..."

Really?

I started laughing to myself and shaking my head. (It's a good thing that we have a LOUD band and they turn the lights down...) I sang along and then we got to the chorus:

"Jesus you have me completely
Every breath I breathe
I am absolutely in love
Jesus I am yours forever
All of me surrenders
I am absolutely in love with you"

(Here's the song, if anyone is curious.)



OK!!! I GET IT!!!! YOU CAN HAVE IT!!!

A few times in the evening, and through the day Sunday, I kept hearing it.

"Are you sure I can have it?

"YES!!!"

"Are you sure you trust me?"

"YES!!! You're starting to freak me out..."

"I'll ask again. Can I have so-and-so?"

"YES! It would suck HARDCORE, but You'll get me though it. You always do."

I think I can see what He was preparing me for now.

I made it home to Mom and Dad's last night and I just crawled into bed STILL IN MY CLOTHES and started crying.

"I KNOW You got this. I KNOW it. It just HURTS. Does it hurt You to say no? I'm sure it would hurt my Dad to say no. I just don't see what the big deal is. He's like my BEST FRIEND!! Why is this happening? WAAAAAAHHH!"

Then He lovingly brought three things to my mind. (And I logged them in my phone so I wouldn't forget.)

1) Your intestines would hate you.
2) YOU TOLD ME I could take him away.
3) June 4th-5th have NEVER been good days for you, have they?

I went from crying to laughing HYSTERICALLY. Don't you hate it when you're trying to be mad but you can't be? Such valid points! (I met my ex husband on June 4th and by the time I got home from hanging out, it was the 5th.)

Grr.

Oh wait. It gets BETTER!

Dad Steve sends Kristin and I forwards in our emails. It's usually at night.

I'm just laying there, praying and trying to stop the psycho mix of crying/laughing that I'm doing and my phone starts going off. I'm getting emails.

The title of the first one: "If you love something" I literally facepalmed. (I opened it and it's a picture of a dog that says "If you love something, pee on it." NOT APPLICABLE.)

The title of the second one: "Sometimes you just don't get over it." Another facepalm. (It has a picture of a quarter, dime, nickel, and penny and says "I noticed that they're all facing forward except Lincoln. I guess once somebody sneaks up behind you and shoots you in the head, you never really get over it." FAIR ASSESSMENT.)

I laughed more. (I mean, seriously. What are the odds?)

I went to bed and woke up this morning feeling rested and better about the whole situation.

On the way home, my Pandora Radio decided that "Don't Look Back in Anger" and "Stop Crying Your Heart Out" by Oasis were appropriate selections.

Touche, internet radio. Touche.

"Life is sweet
In the belly of the beast
In the belly of the beast"

For Your Consideration (This is for You, Joel Houston and JD)

Jonathon Douglass (AKA "JD")


Joel Houston (and friend that I do not recognize.)


.

Sometimes they are photographed together.




Sometimes they are not.




(A little background for all y'all who are going "Um... who?" Well, if you've missed the FIFTY BILLION BLOG ENTRIES where I referenced Joel Houston... they're from the band Hillsong United. And if you've missed ANY OTHER BLOG ENTRIES, Hillsong United is one of my favorite bands ever. My list goes 1) The Beatles. 2) Hillsong United. 3) All the other bands.)


Dear Joel Houston and Jonathon Douglass (JD),

Hi.

I am a fan.

A fan of not only you guys, but of Jesus as well. And you sing about Him. And to Him. And that's cool.

I'm not going to say "Hey! I'm 26 and I'm single and I want to marry you." because
A) There's two of you. That's illegal.
B) JD is already married, so that proposal would be grossly inappropriate.
C) I hate it when fangirls are all "OH EM JEEP! MARRY ME!!!!!". It is, again, grossly inappropriate and it smells of desperation. (And I am neither of those two things.)

I just wanted to say hey and that we should totally go shopping sometime. I mean honestly. Have you seen what you wear? RADTASTIC. And if you're ever driving through McPherson Kansas (because I know you do that ALL OF THE TIME), hit me up and we can hang.

Sincerely,

Katherine G. Hurl

THE END.

Note: Most of the pictures taken from Hillsong United Blog. The other one is from Google images. If it's yours and I didn't credit you, I'm sorry!