Fuck Off Chicken Salad

My life drama revolves around chicken salad.
The universe comes up with clever ways to screw us all every once in a while, be it law enforcement, heartbreak, or sandwiches.
Here are a few examples of my trials with chicken salad.

• September of 2001, I started my first week at a new college and we all decided to go downtown Boston to the fashion district and explore. Supposedly there was also a really great sandwich place in the area and I set my heart on chicken salad. Please keep in mind that I just met these people and am trying to make a good impression, and so we all skip and laugh down the street trying to find the place. Anyone who knows me well knows that I am a tyrant when I get hungry, and not just cranky sulking in a corner, but rather I adopt the look of a psycho with blood-lust and take out my anger on innocent bystanders. Well...we can't find it, and I am starting to get HUNGRY, and not only can we not find it but we can't find any restaurant...we somehow ended up in a neighborhood where everything closes before two pm on a Sunday, maybe we're in Spain. We finally find it after another 45 minutes and...it's closed. I want chicken salad so badly I am ready to seek out a live chicken and make it myself and I am getting annoyed. Since I'm the only one who seems to have an issue with being starving my new "friends" come up with a solution "let's go buy that two day old baguette from the seemingly homeless guy sitting against that brick wall. Umm...what? Old homeless bread? They hand it to me and I bash it against the wall in a fit of rage. Thanks chicken salad, thanks a lot.
• Flash forward to several years ago, I am out with my now ex-boyfriend (because he was a cheap homeless douchebag who made over 80K a year and lived in his 1994 Toyota 4 Runner and only ate spaghetti, not because of the story I am about to tell) and I want a chicken salad sandwich, I don't know why I want it, but I don't think it's a hefty request to make. Let me note that he is also a vegan, so talking him into going to a place where they serve a chicken, cut up and mushed into mayo put on bread took some work, but I figured no pain no gain, I'm getting my sandwich. We go to a sandwich shop I like...out of chicken salad. Umm, eff you guys. We go to another sandwich shop, 'we don't have chicken salad anymore'...eff you guys too. Third times a charm...nope, no chicken salad. I ended up eating tuna while crying in the car. This is becoming a trend.
• About a month ago, there is a little cafe in the next building over from my work and they make a good chicken salad on a croissant. I walk down with my co-workers, all excited for the buttery-croissant-meets-mayochicken-explosion...the fridge has no chicken salad sandwiches in it. Oh come on! "It's fine, we'll ask them to make us one" says my boss. "Excuse me, you're out of chicken salad in the fridge, can you please make us one?" "We ran out of croissants...and chicken salad". I ended up sulking over a grilled cheese.
• Today! I am sitting at my desk and I think "chicken salad on a croissant! there will be some left because 1/2 the company is out of the office!" I grab my cash and walk downstairs, outside in the rain, and...the cafe is closed.

My friend just IMs me and says "more chicken salad drama?"
Obviously those who know me are aware of the vendetta chicken salad has against me.

Screw you chicken salad! If you weren't so delicious I would just break up with you and move to tuna permanently instead of this love triangle we have going on, after all tuna has never left me crying in a car or scaring off potential friends, but no...I won't give up on you.

Mr. Nice Guy

I went on an online date in June (one of the five I will be reminiscing about here) and we met in Hollywood at a little bar on the boulevard.
Like 90% of the online guys I wasn't very attracted to him but since the guys I tend to be attracted to are broke mooches who live off of Taco Bell as a food staple or live in their car and have me do their laundry, I decided to stray from the norm.
He was waiting out in front of the bar for me and I immediately got that
"confirmed: attraction -negative"
feeling in my stomach. He had a shaved head (one where there is just enough shadow to see the massively receding hairline), a shirt that was probably from the line of Tommy Bahama circa 2005 and two sizes too big, and a pair of khaki cargo pants that must have been from the 90's since I don't think they make those anymore. In fact I think there was a mass burning of male cargo pants.
Needless to say he was not hot. But he's a nice guy.
So we go inside, and I like to think of myself as a good date and I figured "maybe he'll surprise me" and be super cool and I'll end up liking him. The conversation was going great, he wasn't getting any hotter, but we had things in common and he was as big of a Harry Potter nerd as I was so things were looking up.
And then he pulls a Power Protein Bar out of one of his eight cargo pockets and starts eating it...in the bar.
"I'm hypoglycemic"
Ummm...ok. Bald, bad dresser, hypoglycemic.
Not exactly things I want to date.
Then karaoke starts...he sings "Bust a Move" and he actually rocks it, he's running around and has the crowd dancing and I'm able to put the other shortcomings aside.
And another Power Bar.
...and then another.
The cargo pants are now making sense, he needs to hold an entire buffet in his pants.
It's getting late, almost 11:30 and I have to work the next day and I really can't handle seeing another snack come out of another pocket so I tell him I'm ready to go.
"No! I have one more karaoke song! I'm friends with the guy, hold on, I'm going to see if he can make me next"
Three more people go.
Ummm...sorry, I have to wake up at 6 and am still a good 45 minutes away from home, so tired, but thank you for a great night.
"I promise it'll be worth the wait, my friend said I'm next, one more song! Please!"
Okay, fine.
I'm expecting him to wow me, this better be the best karaoke song on the planet.
'Can Chris please come up to the stage'
Oh thank god.
"I'm on a boat motherf&*cker on a boat"
That was the song that I waited an extra 30 minutes for, I don't even know the song, it's horrible, and the crowd is over it too. Everyone is looking in opposite directions and wondering who this creepy white guy with the baggy clothing thinks he is.
And just when I think that this poor guy cannot embarrass himself anymore...we go to my car and he kisses me...and tastes like garlic (ugh I just shuddered and dry heaved thinking about it)...it was a 4 hour date...we didn't eat...where the hell is the garlic coming from!?
He continued to call me and text me for about a month after that.
He did not get a second date...ugh garlic.
I have to agree in this instance, nice guys really do finish last.

On the subject of being waxed...

Brandon: yeah you have to think of it as a doctor almost

except it feels like a spa and not a table with the meat paper on it

Awkward

There are few things more unpleasant than entering your hotel room to find someone has left a tiny "gift" in a broken toilet...except maybe the act of trying to explain to the Mexican hotel plumber that the "leave behind" is not yours while he smiles and nods, not believing a word you're saying.
Gross.
I expect that from a public restroom at a concert venue or a frat house, but not a hotel room, double check your flushings people!
Oh, and
Dear Housekeeper
You are NOT getting a tip, it's very possible this was your evil doing (you also didn't provide me any shampoo or soap...dirty birdy).
Sincerely yet with disgust,
Room XXX

Too Nice

I met my friend for brunch on Sunday, and after driving past the restaurant three times I finally pulled into a parking spot 15 minutes late.
I was greeted by two of my friends and they were already seated with drinks at a big table.
A handsome European guy walks up and says "hi", so I shake his hand and say "Hi! I'm Cat!" and he says "Hi, I'm Julien" and then proceeds to stare at me and I think "oh my gosh I'm so rude" and say "I'm so sorry am I in your seat?"

He's the waiter.
In my defense, that group of friends is European and he was wearing normal clothes and totally looked like he was joining us but, I was completely embarrassed.
They thought it was hilarious.
Then a guy comes over with our drinks and Julien says "that's the BUS BOY".
Hilarious, Frenchman, hilarious.

Rico Suave

My sister and I went out downtown on Friday.
We were about ready to head to the next location and were sitting for a second when a short asian approached Caroline. He started spouting his well rehearsed lines "you girls don't look like you're from here" "you look like the artsy creative type" "tell me something that makes you unique.
I was sitting there thoroughly enjoying the fact that I wasn't involved in the conversation when his sweaty friend sauntered over. Not surprisingly, he had the same script "you girls don't look like you're from here" "tell me something that makes you special"
me: "really? You tell ME something that makes you special"
sweaty rangoon: "well, my personality, my positive attributes"
me: "wouldn't that apply to everyone? that really isn't special"
s.r. : "I know I come across as being a player and smooth, but I'm really emotional"
me: "oh, so you cry a lot? tear up at the movies?"
s.r. : "ugh, no, ha, I don't cry"
me: "you look like a crier"
at this point Caroline and I are both elbowing each other in morse code S.O.S. and since we both suffer from "too nice to hurt feelings" syndrome, it was time to make up a lie.
"Well, we have my friend's birthday party in Silver Lake now so, we're running late"
and we bolted.

A Collection or Recollections

You know when you're doing something and it triggers a memory of a moment in your life?
For example a certain song brings you back to summers on Cape Cod, or the smell of buttery mashed potatoes reminds you of your childhood pet (why? I don't know, stay with me here).
Sitting here eating trashy Port Wine Cheese ball and crackers brings me back to this weekend sitting on my bed watching Degrassi where Holly J and Sav are starting to get steamy. Oooh, watch out for Anya!

Difference of Opinions

Brandon: whoa

what the heck is that?

gross little turtle

me: the cutest turtle ever

Brandon: oh

cute

right

Clap

I was driving down the street on my way home from work a few days ago and saw a billboard for Nanny McPhee 2.
Now let's look at this poster for a second.
"Nanny McPhee and the Big Bang"- that's the title
"Who's Your Nanny?"
First of all: both of those tag lines sound like porn spin offs of the original film.
Then we have the best part:
"The magic's back warts and all"
So, Nanny McPhee is back in a porno...and she has an STD.
Watch out kids.

Age

Today I turn 27.
I fought my way out of that birth canal around 10 PM tonight, 27 years ago.
My how time flies.
I'd like to thank Mom & Dad, Caroline & Claire, Aunt Diane & Uncle Bob, Aunt Chris & Uncle Mike, Uncle Jean, Nana & Papa, Grandpa & Grandma, Brent, Kate, Lisa, Hillary, Amy, Lis, Nicole, Jasmine, Richard, Brad, Swimmie, Alexis, Enjoli, Patrice, Elyia, Mo & Mark, Oliver, Jayar, JQ, Jen, Maegan and the many many others whom have made these 27 years simply amazing.

Coincidences Creep Me Out

Coincidences are super creepy.
I was reading this article last week about how Velociraptors are often misrepresented in movies because in truth they were actually covered in feathers (Jurassic Park you got it wrong!) and after reading I decided to share that info with my coworkers so that I could look educated "yes, I'm brilliant and literate".
THEN two days later I was laying in my hotel room biding my time until check out and I started watching TV. Since it was the morning the only things on were talk shows and a cheap computer animated kid's dinosaur cartoon (I went with the cartoon).
And guess what? Velma Velociraptor had feathers!
Creepy.

One Girl's Trash

I threw away an entire drawer of underwear (it was my "back up drawer") since, upon looking at them, I realized I had them since high school and one pair had a cartoon elephant on it.
It was time to grow up and move on.

Otto

I'm going to let me phone start auto-correcting all of my texts.
Stay tuned.

The Death of Class

I was driving home from work yesterday, stopped at a light, when I looked into my rear-view mirror to people watch in the cars behind me.
This is what I saw:
Dad was pulling out his ear hairs which led to a full on inner ear cleaning
Mom was picking her nose, finger way up in there
Children were flying over seats in the back.
I started to throw up in my mouth and had to flip up the mirror.
Let this serve as a reminder to all of you out there that EVERYONE can see inside your car.

Best Line Ever

The best line I have received from online dating:
"Wanna go halfsies on a baby?"

He later wanted to describe his genitals to me, so that conversation didn't last, but A for effort.

Douche Files Round 2

I was talking to another guy from online dating, he seemed a little pushy but I said "ok" to a phone convo anyway because he was interesting.
Three things that I discovered:
1) He is MUCH older than me, 2) He is intense, 3) He is boring as hell
I ended the phone conversation (and I use the term "conversation" loosely because it was me sitting there for twenty minutes listening while he listed things in life he likes to do 'go to the hills with my dog...pause...walk on the beach...pause...take baths with rose petals...pause...' it was like some sort of bad personal ad) with an "okay I'm going to go now, bye".
Luckily he took the hint and didn't call again.
Or so I thought...three weeks later I get this text-versation:
"Come grab a glass of wine with me"
"Who is this?"
"(insert name here)"
Me trying to be nice:
"Oh...I really didn't think we hit it off, I'm sure you're a nice guy, I'm just not into it"
"Well you're still single aren't you? Maybe you should stop being so picky"
WHOA buddy, calm.yo'self.
"Well I'm young so not worried AT ALL about the single thing, so I'm going to keep being picky"
"Stop being such a Jewish Princess brat and come have a glass of wine with me"
First of all, being a psycho name-caller is not making me jump out of my seat to meet someone, Second of all- I'm not Jewish...but I don't feel like arguing with this loser and egging him on so...
"No thanks, definitely not into it, please stop contacting me"
"Ugh you're SO Jewish, laters"

Again, I'm not Jewish.
And even if I was, not sure why that was supposed to be insulting.

Give Me Sugar

I am a dessert whore.
I will love you long time for a brownie sundae.
Dessert makes me happy and I am typically okay with my lack of self control around anything containing sugar (i.e. there are 5 types of pastries on that tray, I should try all 5 because what if one is better than the others and I choose the wrong one? The world will end!!).
Recently though, I have taken a month off from my strict gym regimen and have not taken the same amount of time off from the dessert binge and therefore am noticing that my stomach is not as flat as it used to be and sucking in is proving to be more and more difficult.
Starting yesterday I went back to the gym and put myself on a "stop being such a pig" diet that consists of making healthier choices and lots of cardio (the main reason is the cute boy coming to visit me at the end of the month).
The issue: I am in full fledge PMS mode
The solution: Yoplait Light Fat Free yogurts.
Seriously, I know commercials lie but this one is "fo rizzle" (or, the real deal if you don't speak Snoop Dog). The Apple Turnover has chunks of apples and the Raspberry Cheesecake tastes enough like it to trick your tongue into thinking it's misbehaving.
Just thought I'd share my new find.

UPDATE: Don't get coffee flavored. Blech. Tastes like rotten milk in coffee.

Raised by Idiots?

I decided, several weeks ago, to bite the bullet and join the world of online dating.
I made a profile, put up some pictures, and holy crap the vultures descended.
Seriously, I think I'm a good looking human but there must be some hags on that site because within three days I had about 20 emails or IMs.
There were some really unattractive men (one looked like Carrot Top's less attractive brother...if you can even imagine that) but for the most part I was swapping emails with about eight good looking, funny guys.
Then the nutjobs descended.
Let me bestow on you an example from the "douche files".
Mekhah, I remember the name because I had to type it in several places to block him from ever contacting me again.
One day he IMed me and struck up conversation, I was only on the site to respond to someone else's email but I was friendly and said hello back, then nicely told him I was signing off to get back to work.
He proceeded to 1) add me as a favorite, 2) send me a wink, 3) send me a message saying he would like to get to know me better.
Eeeh, starting to get a little intense.
I sign on later that day and boom boom boom IMs, "Hey beautiful" "how are you?" "how's your day, you have to let me take you out to dinner"
I respond, "Wow you're kind of intense" then sign off.
Two days later he starts IMing me "You're rude, you're ignoring me, what a b*&ch, you know you look cute in your one picture but you look old in the rest, are you 60?"
Let it be noted this guy looks like a black Uncle Fester.
And he continues to insult me, which I really don't care because, again, Uncle Fester.
So I respond "listen, I'm not into you, definitely not now that you're insulting me to ease your bruised ego please never talk to me again"
He starts sending more insults until I successfully block him.
Good Luck to the girl who gets suckered into dating him.

Still, the good outweigh the bad...so I keep on truckin'

Flopsy

Since the beginning of the SPAM mail time-line; they have targeted men with tiny wangs and erectile dysfunction.
"Grow a larger penis: click here"
"SBHDUerection BIG BIG JIODH"
"Women laughing at your size? You'll show them"
etc.
I am a female and yet my Junk Mailbox is filled daily with promises of a bigger johnson or a pill that will help me impress the ladies.
Obviously they are targeting the wrong person, but it makes me wonder: After 15+ years of the same SPAM message, are people still falling for this?
Are you men that desperate?
Can you hackers/virusers/spammers please get a little more creative?

Things That Make You Go 'Hmmmm'

What's wrong with this picture?
Where is AT?

Crave

My new lipgloss titled "Crave" taste a little like those blue things you hook on the inside of your toilet bowl.
Not that I chew on them or anything, but you know how smells get into your nose and hits your tongue and you think "so THAT'S what a skunks ass tastes like"

Muscles

I went to an event last night and there was an interlude where this woman climbed a pole that reached the top of the Staples Center and did these crazy contortionist things on it.
The woman held her entire body parallel to the ground 100 ft below her using only her armpit.
HER ARMPIT, PEOPLE!
Do you know what that means? That woman's armpit is stronger than my entire body.
Time to get back to the gym.

Frites

Today my office smells overwhelmingly like McDonald's french fries.
Blech.

Bardot

Last night I was at "Bardot Sessions" in Hollywood, where a bunch of random, amazing musicians get up and perform (many unknown).
It was an open roof room with couches surrounding a tiny stage and it was packed, people sitting inlaps, on the floor, on the stage. There were hipsters, trendsters, models, celebrities, publicists, children of celebrities, and the rest of us all crowded around to listen to amazing music.
At one point they played "Wake Up" by Arcade Fire and the second it began the entire room started singing, all together as one, completely tuned into the music.
It was one of my favorite moments of the year.
It was glorious.

Fort

I remember in grade school when I used to build a fort on my desk using folders.
I would have three walls and cubicle myself in and I remember feeling SO cool because I had all of this privacy and it was my space and it was AWESOME.
Now I have a cubicle with three walls and I'm thinking I should have pushed a bunch of desks up to a window to emulate a corner office.
Case in point; dream bigger kids.

Can I have one?

Seriously, I want this. It can ride on Mini's back.

Ankles

I spent last week in London and Paris, backpacking through the cities and staying in hostels.
Everything went smoothly for the most part but, as with any travel experience, there were some weird moments, one of which I will try and tell right now (although I wish I had taken a picture).
It was our (my sister and I's) last night in Paris and we came back from bar-hopping around 2 am to a hostel lobby littered with random travelers also coming in after a long night.
There were two completely trashed guys who were belligerently trying to figure out what mine and my sister's names were, and since they didn't speak English, or French, or even Spanish (but instead some jumbled version of all three), it was hilarious.
drunks: "Battyyyy?"
us: "what? Betty? no, really? people are still named Betty?"
drunks: "Christine?"
us: "no, okay we're done, we're going to bed now"
drunks: "SAAHAAD!!!"
us: "did you just say 'salad'?"
drunks: "yes! SALAD!!"
us: "no, our names are definitely not Salad"
Apparently the name he was going for was Sarah, but thanks to them Caroline now has a new nickname.

So, we head up to our closet of a room to fall asleep with the other 4 people already snoring in there and we pass out within about 5 minutes.
Around 3:30am I hear the door open and this guy shuffles in...shoes on...pants down around his ankles...wearing blue tightey whiteys and is going from bed to bed shining a flashlight in each persons eyes.
It takes me a second to register what is happening and then he is near my sister's bed and my protective instincts kick in and I jump up ready to kick him in his tiny balls.
For whatever reason my defense mode is super rational and I first did a body count to make sure that everyone that shared our room was in their beds and that I wasn't about to kick someone out that was supposed to be there. All 5 accounted for. Me = huge dork.
I start yelling "GET THE F*&% OUT OF HERE!"
He doesn't seem to understand English and is trying to take off his shoes.
"GET THE F*&^ING HELL OUT OF THIS ROOM RIGHT NOW!"
Then I see his face, it's Salad guy! Now I'm extra annoyed and start yelling in French (since English isn't working)
He's falling all over the place trying to get his pants on and find his shoe while some crazed person is screaming in his face and then he stands up and looks at me and says "Can I sleep with you?"
Seriously? I push him out the door and lock it.
Best part: no one else in the room even woke up when this was happening.
Thanks guys, for having my back.

I...Ugh...I just....

can't STAND Liza Minnelli.
Whew, I feel better now.

Anticipate

You know when you plan for something for a really long time, like Christmas when you're a kid, or a wedding or college and then all of a sudden it's two weeks away and you're filled with so much excitement mixed with a giant dash of nervousness and you can hardly keep yourself from jumping out of your own skin?
I'll be in London and Paris in two weeks.
It will be nice to see them again, it's been awhile.

The friends I made in my 05' travels: Jon (Canada), Me, Alejandro (Argentina), Gemma (Australia), Fernanda (Brazil), D (Argentina)

My Cave

This is the art that adorns the walls of my favorite place in the house: my room.
Please excuse the terrible photo quality, I blame my phone and the poor lighting.

My sister Caroline decided to take up painting one day, turns out; she's awesome at it.
This is the first painting she ever did, she surprised me by shipping it to me and I was so excited that I was given her first masterpiece that: I cried. A lot.
I named him Willoughby.
He's the one every morning that looks at me with that smug expression and says "you know if you keep hitting snooze you're going to sleep right through 7:00 and then you're going to have to skip your shower and be paranoid for the rest of the day that you look like a greasy, smelly, homeless person."
Thanks for staying on top of it Willoughby.

The above is a birthday card my sister Claire made for me last year when she was out visiting for my birthday. The picture doesn't do it justice but I love it, and keep it out on my dresser year round. She happens to be an amazing artist and I have other drawings and sketches around but this one makes me happy because I love cake.
She also happens to be an amazing baker and made me coconut vegan hostess cupcakes for my birthday party.
check out her blog:
http://nowheyvegantreats.blogspot.com/

The dogs are "Josephine and Napoleon" by Will Rafuse, I found them online several years ago, and wanted them. The only problem was the prints were expensive, and there was literally only one or two sets floating around on the internet. A few Christmases ago I put them as the only item on my list and figured that I would either a) not get them because they were out of print, or b) get them because my Dad is an internet mastermind who can find anything. Either way, no big deal, I also like chocolate covered cherries and anything turquoise so they know my back-ups.
Christmas morning I see two equally sized square pieces wrapped and I know they're my prints...I unwrap them and...hmmm...something looks off.
I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to make my parents feel bad but it looked like they were printed out on a crappy color printer and how do you tell someone they spent $100 on a cheap replica and were ripped off?
Turns out they were out of print, and my Dad (he's adorable) printed them out as an IOU and framed them. Several months later he tracked down the real ones.
I love them.

I became obsessed with Magritte after the Thomas Crown Affair came out. So obsessed, in fact, that I traveled to Belgium just to visit the Magritte Museum in Belgium. I walked around Brussels for several hours until I had to pee, so I stopped in a building that had a gift shop, I noticed some books on Magritte and, blame it on a full bladder or the fact that Brussels is boring as hell when traveling solo, but I went up and asked an employee how to get to the Magritte museum.
Turns out I was standing in it.
Dumbass.

This bunny cost more than a wooden bunny should cost. I saw it at Pier 1...didn't buy it. A week later I couldn't stop thinking about the freaking wooden bunny and I knew I had to go back before it started haunting my dreams. Now he lives on my external hard drive.
He doesn't have a name yet, I'm open for suggestions.

As you can see, my room makes no sense. I once described it as looking like "a pack french gypsies came in and went nuts".
I think that about sums it up.
Throw in my robot pillow cases and bookshelf of teenage magical adventure books (Harry Potter, The Alchemyst: The Immortal Secrets of Nicolas Flamel, and Pendragon) and the other works of art by my sisters and miscellaneous pieces picked up along the way and you have the raddest room ever.

Snack

This is what a blurry half eaten grilled cheese looks like in Dallas at 5 a.m.
In case anyone asks if you've ever seen one, your response can now be "yes".
Thank you room service, for feeding five hungry karaoke singers during the wee hours of the morning.

Moonlight

I stepped out of my car and this was next to me, it looked awesome in the moonlight aka new LED street lights.

Daylight

This is what is waiting for me outside my front door every morning.

Dancing King

I take a Zumba class at the gym (Zumba is a latin dance/aerobics class) every Monday to add some fun into my 'weights, cardio, weights' routine.
The class is filled with females except for one older man who is my favorite.
Let me try and paint a picture of him: picture a wealthy man in his 60's, the type of man who would own a yacht and frequent the opera. Now picture this man with dyed reddish hair (or a really good toupee) and a spray tan...sort of a wealthy Miami man. Now take this wealthy bachelor out of his Armani suit and put him in a pair of gym shorts and a cycling shirt.
He waltzes into class a little late every time, takes off his shoes and socks (why? no clue, he's a mystery) and he joins in the dancing. The reason I like this man is because he is the only one in the class who does not follow what the teacher is doing, instead he floats around waving his arms with his eyes closed as if he is having the time of his life.
I don't think he's ever gotten a step right, and yet he is having more fun than anyone else in the class.
I hope I learn to dance like no one is watching by the time I reach his age.
Sheer fabulousness.

Spritzer

My work cubicle is located right next to the bathroom on my floor.
So close, in fact, that if my finger had a pee hole I could reach out and relieve myself without ever having to stop typing .
(ew, gross)
The good part is I don't have to go far in case I have some sort of peeing emergency and have to go within 30 seconds or the world will implode.
The bad news is I have a bionic sense of smell and between the odors from the bathroom and the funky lunch smells from the kitchen, I spend a good portion of the day wondering if I am smelling what people are putting into their body or letting out and trying to ignore it either way.
Again, ew gross.
But this isn't a post about poo, this is a post about air fresheners.
DOWN WITH AIR FRESHENERS!
Air fresheners do nothing other than make odors smell like pomegranate scented death.
They don't make the smells disappear or improve, they just make the room smell like old people who think it's a good idea to spray their entire bottle of Wal-Mart brand perfume for the big Bingo tournament.
Someone has recently brought in a bottle of rose/horseradish/petrol scented spray into the office because apparently they save their "private bathroom time" for work instead of home. Since I have the luxury of sitting next to the porcelain palace, I get to be surrounded by the luxurious nursing home scent.
I would describe today's scent as "bouquet of roses dipped in Indian food".
Thank goodness for turtle necks.

Viscious

Hi my name is Cat, I am 26 and I am still afraid of the dark.
"Hi Cat"
In all seriousness, or ridiculousness, I am afraid that monsters will come eat me at night.
Not in a schitzo "I talk to dead people" way, more in a "I revert to the age of five at night" way.
When I am home alone and have to go from the kitchen to my bedroom, I turn on the light in my room...then go back to the kitchen...turn off the kitchen light and SPRINT to my room.
Whew, safe from the evil monsters that wanted to eat my face on my way to my room.
But I'm not free and clear yet.
From there I turn on the TV so there is a light source, then I turn off the bedroom light and do this acrobatic leap (aka belly-flop) onto my bed and pull the comforter up to my neck.
Phew! The monster under my bed didn't grab my ankles and pull me into his torturous cave that exists in the black hole between my mattress and the floor.
I KNOW I'm not the only one who has this flavor of crazy in her life, be honest, you all do it.
Why is it we feel so vulnerable in the dark?
I don't even watch horror movies and yet I am still convinced that there is something terrible lurking in my home waiting to make me into corned beef hash.
And while we're on the topic, does anyone else think their comforter/blanket is some sort of protective shroud that will fend off all evil? Even in 90 degree summer weather I pull it up to my neck because, goddess forbid, if I have just a sheet on, I am not protected from the Underbed Demon.
Feel free to share your crazy in the comment section.

A Note on Aging

You know your getting older (and you're a huge dork) when getting new toothpaste and floss evokes the same level of excitement as a Barbie once did.

In Hell

I despise the sound of packing tape.
DESPISE.
At work we have to put together packages from time to time and we have to seal the boxes with that clear packing tape on a dispenser (pictured above for your viewing pleasure).
My ears bleed and I start convulsing while making the face you make when you take a sip out of your soda that someone had put their cigarette ashes in.
You know the face.
I have come to the conclusion that if Satan actually exists, his voice sounds like packing tape.
Imagine dying and then reaching some sort of after-life and seeing this super hot guy walking toward you and you're all "whoo hoo! I made it to heaven, hello hot heaven man"
and then he opens his mouth and it's all "eeeeeeeeek scratchetyhighpitcheeeeeeeeekkkk"
And then you think "$&*^@#%^&" I shouldn't have used my teachers pet powers to get Mike Berry demerits in Middle School even though he didn't do anything other than be a tool-bag with a giant chin.
"eeeeeeeekkkk screeeeettttccchhhhhceeeeeekkk"

Twenty Six Going on Five

It has been really windy in L.A. the past few days and as a result the stairwell in our office has turned into a wind tunnel.
I was walking down the stairs today and the wind was blowing my hair all over the place and I threw my hands out and pretended I was Storm from Xmen controlling the elements with my awesome powers.
We never really grow up, do we?

Nightmare: On the Big Screen

Could there possibly be two worse movies on the planet? And what are the odds that their posters would end up side by side.
Kenny Chesney in 3D and Babies.
They took my two least favorite things and put them into movies: country music and babies.
I hope each ticket comes with a complimentary barf bag.

In the Moment

I normally try to be really cognizant of the fact that my life is cooler than many people's I know and that I should appreciate it, in the moment, but sometimes I just waltz through it and stick to my routine of work, gym, food, sleep.
And sometimes I take a second to really soak it all in, last night being one of those times: I went to a Black Eyed Peas after party.
I drove downtown, found free parking, walked up to the VIP line where my fabulous friend had VIP wristbands for me, and rubbed elbows with LA's finest hipsters while will.i.am, apl.de.ap, and Taboo prepped to go on stage with LMFAO and perform.
Seriously?
Sometimes I pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming.
Also I would like to marry the robot man, if anyone knows him please pass along my phone number.

A Note on Therapy

This wooden companion has saved me thousands of dollars over the past eleven years.
Who knows how much therapy I would've needed had I not had this faithful friend to strum on whenever I had the blues.

Baby

Does anyone else think it's absolutely nuts that women can make people inside their bodies?
I mean seriously, think about it, we grow people.

Big Apple

My co-workers are in NY this week.
They went to the window to look out across the city and what did they see?
I roof jumper covered in a sheet on the sidewalk.
Oh New York, when will you learn to do your suicides the classy way: Indoors, with prescription pills like all the L.A. celebs.
Needless to say they're ready to come back to the land of silicone and anti-depressants.

A note on love

I have several weddings coming up within the next few and it got me thinking about marriage in general.
The US divorce rate is 50% for first time marriages.
FIFTY PERCENT!
That's insane.
That means out of 307 million people, let's say 65% get married...so 99,775,000 couples....49,887,500 of them woke up one day and decided they just couldn't make it work.
Holy crap.

For me I would have to think of the two people I love most on this planet (my sisters)...for 22 and 20 years of my life they have been the two people who make me laugh the hardest, who I trust 100%, whose phone calls I will ALWAYS answer, and who make me smile daily just by merely existing.
So, until I can find a man who can even come in a close third to measuring up to how much I adore them...I'll stay away from that pricey white dress and keep my tread off the aisle.

Good luck boys.

Two for the Price of One

I remember in college we had a soda/juice vending machine in the lobby. We would use it for mixers when we were just too lazy to get in the car and go to a grocery store (aka everyday).
There was one button on the machine that, if pushed just right, you could get two of the juices for 50 cents.
The double juice, of course, was the grossest one the machine had to offer...it was a weird cherry vanilla that I can still taste with my memory...along with the Popov vodka that was equivalent to rubbing alcohol.
The thing is, we would ALWAYS get it. Because the thought of getting two of the gross juices for the price of one good juice was just too awesome to pass up.
People are so weird.

Petting Zoo

My friend recently came out of the closet and wanted me to head out for a Saturday night at the gay bars to meet his new friends.
I had been to gay bars before, but it had been a while and I had forgotten how much fun they are!
I was in a giant club filled with 300+ gorgeous, built, shirtless men and about 5 women.
I got to dance on a stage and be told how fabulous I was by men who weren't trying to sleep with me.
I could look like a freak dancing around to Janet Jackson and it didn't matter because I didn't need to impress anyone.
But, at the same time, it's very strange...because these men don't look like a stereotypical gay man...they look like models, and the hot skateboarder you dated in college, and the computer nerd, and the tough cholo...and it throws you off every once in a while because you realize that you WON'T get hit on by these gorgeous men because they're hitting on each other...and it's trippy.
I think one of the most fun thing about the gay bar, from an observational standpoint, is that it's a giant, male petting zoo.
There are dancers on these platforms in little undies with six packs bopping around on poles...and for a dollar donation, you can go up and pet them. And you get a kiss on the cheek!
It's let when you go to a carnival and you buy a handful of feed for $1 and you get to pet the goats.
Amazing.
I think if I were out in a straight bar on a Saturday night and put a dollar in some random guy's pants and tried petting him, I would get kicked out of the bar...or a date for Sunday...maybe they're onto something.

Danger Zone

I was laying here watching "Hellboy" when I heard someone talking loudly outside.
It was a helicopter hovering above/next to my house saying "Sit down and stop running or we'll shoot...I repeat...Sit down and stop running or we'll shoot".
Awesome.
Although it is nice to know that the police are on top of it.

KTPA

California is the home of the vanity license plate.
I roll my eyes so many times while on the road that I get a headache because to me, a vanity plate screams "I'm a douche".
Typically, the plates spell out something that, after breaking out your Nancy Drew Decoder, you can read like "HOTMN1" is "hot man 1" (douche)
or SSYGRL is "sassy girl" (also a douche)
Today I came across a new breed of vanity plate which I will dub "the inside joke they want to share with EVERYBODY" or "Choice 1 was taken so I have to explain myself".
The plate said "KTPA" and I read it at first and thought "ok, that's better, at least they aren't telling other drivers how attractive they are or how sassy they are, it's an inside thing...fair enough"
THEN, I noticed they had taken a label maker and stuck the spelled out version AROUND the license plate
"Keeping The
Party Alive".
Wow.
Thank you sir, because I was worried that the party was dying and I felt an immediate sense of comfort knowing that it's still going on and that you, sir, in the mini van, are keeping it alive for the rest of us. Also, thank you for putting it on your license plate with the explanation because I had interpreted it as "Kevin Took Paste Away" and that didn't bring me as much happiness as knowing the party is still rockin'.

Bad Blogger

I've been playing the role of "bad blogger" lately.
Normally, finding material to blab about is relatively easy because something weird seems to happen on a daily basis...but lately life has been curiously...normal.
I'm in that two week phase that happens once every 5 months where it's my "turn" to be hit on by many men at the same time and try and play the texting game with all of them at once until, two weeks from now, *Poof* they're gone.
This weekend I had a cold, so I kept it "men free"...I went to the aquarium, slept 14 hours, went to the museum to see the Renoir exhibit, and then cleaned my room.
BORING.
But don't worry, I'm sure there will be fun filled stories of weird dates in the future.

Stay tuned...

Highlight

Is it sad that the highlight of my week is that my house now has a dryer?
I go look at it every day to make sure it's still there, it's glorious.
No more drying clothes in the guest room that takes 2 days!
Whoo hoo!

Wake Up Call

I was woken up at 4 a.m. by a cat yelling at the foot of my bed.
"MMRRROOOOWWWRR!!!!"
"Holy crap! Who is dying?"
"MMMRRRRROOOWWWWRRR!!"
"Oh, good morning to you too cow beast"
Thinking she wants to go outside, I get up and follow her...to the food bowl.
THE FOOD BOWL.
She sits there, looks at me "meow", looks at the bowl (which has food IN IT already) "meow", looks at me, then at the fridge, then at me "meow meow".
I look at her...have a stare down for a minute while wearing a mad face (which is really hard to do because she's so cute, even when she's evil)
"Really Mini? REALLY? This is why you woke me up? Food? You're such an a-hole"
I turned around, shut my door and went back to bed.
Next time i'm keeping a spray bottle next to me for mornings like this so she'll go bug Uncle J instead.

Shin Splints & Sharpies

Sunday, I helped my friend move out of her apartment.
3 Pick up trucks, 10 people, and a box of Krispy Kremes later we completed the move in one trip and decided to celebrate with lunch at a local watering hole.
The bar was only about 11 blocks away and it was 75 degrees outside so I suggested walking but half of the crew wanted to drive...so I jokingly started running.
I began to slow down when my competitive friend (the same one who holds "bar olympics" every weekend) started running too...and since neither of us wanted to lose to the other...we ran all 11 blocks.
She was wearing shorts and running shoes...so she didn't look that odd except for holding a purse.
I was wearing jeans, Vans slip on shoes, a zip up hoodie, and holding a purse...so I looked like I was running FROM something rather than TO something...or like I just stole the purse from an old lady.
Needless to say the Vans slip-ons and concrete mix left me with a horrible case of shin splints (ones that I am still feeling two days later...but I won the race! And winning is awesome.)

Now for part II...
I have one comfortable pair of work heels...they're my Aldo mary janes, and since Aldo has a tendency to overcharge for crap quality shoes, I shouldn't have been surprised when the black on the heel started chipping off to reveal a beige cardboard.
Classy.
I woke up today and my shins still feel like they were subjected to torture (aka running on concrete to a bar while wearing non running shoes) I decided to wear the mary janes...but I needed a way to make them look like new again...and voila...a sharpie!
I spent several minutes this morning coloring in the heels with a black sharpie.
Later I will put on a tube top and Lucite pumps, jump in the pick up and go shopping at Wal-Mart.
Sharpie- a poor girl's shoe polish.

Barney the Friendly Dinosaur

XXI came out with a new line of active wear yesterday and I just happened to be in the market for a few items since most of my gym clothes are full of holes and make me look like a homeless person.
The best part is that it's all super cheap (most things $10 or less) and the bester part (yeah I know, not a word, suck it) is that I had a gift card for $49.47!
So I bought 4 sports bras to replace my 4 that were once white and tight and are now greyish and falling apart at the seams (not like I need the support but we can pretend). I also bought 2 pair of pants and 2 shirts all for $65!

Enough about my super awesome bargain shopping, back to the story.
So...I wear the purple pants to the gym...and they're tight and cute and I am ready to rock it out.
I do some lifting...then I go onto the rowing machine...then end on the stair master...about 10 minutes into it I am SWEATING.
I look down and the purple pants are showing the sweat...especially in the bikini area...and the buttox region...aka I look like I peed myself.
Now, this is L.A. we're not in Kentucky where people go to the gym to work out, we're in the entertainment capital of the world where people go to the gym so that other people can watch them work out...so of course people notice when your once light purple pants are now dark purple in areas that can only be a result of losing bodily functions.

Did I get strange looks? Yes.
Did I continue my workout? Yes.
Did I take the sweat from my arms and rub it over OTHER areas of my pants so that it looked like I was actually sweating instead of peeing? Yes, yes I did.
Then I ran into the locker room, wrapped a shirt around my waste and walked to my car without making eye contact.

Tomorrow the 80 year old with fresh implants will probably have a boob fall out during "downward facing dog" and my purple pants will be forgotten.

Purple pants, you have been demoted to pajamas.

Ummm...huh?

Conversation over IM with my friend:

me: it's like a Nuts & Bolts party @ the bar on Saturday PM

not sure what that means

friend: I like balls

me: ha ha ha what?

friend: i dont know

I am hyped up on chocolate and sprite

I love my friends.

Woof

It smells like puppy breath in my office right now.
Unfortunately, the office is not filled with puppies.

Connect the Dots. La La La La!

I ended up hanging out with the 24 year old, from the previous post, several times and things were cool.
I nicknamed him Pee Wee...as in Herman...because he looked the tiniest bit like him. I'm guessing it taps into my childhood happiness of watching Pee Wee's playhouse and now in my older age I find him endearing for some insane reason. I suppose he was the only childhood figure that would make sense to have a subconscious crush on since Mr. Rogers was too old and the rest of the potentials were Muppets.
Back to the story:
He was a little on the "needy" side...wanting to hang out all of the time, but compared to the guys that call once every few weeks when it's convenient for them; the neediness was almost welcomed...
...until Thursday night when I received the below slew of texts:

12:46am "Any desire to pick me up?"
12:54am "If you wanna come get me you should..."
1:07am "Come get me"
1:35am "Can I come over?"
1:39am "Too many people, Imemme take a cab to your house..."
1:40am "Can I come over?"
1:41 am "Can I come over?"
2:01 am- Phone call

All of which I ignored. My friend called it "tourettes texting"
Several more "clingy" immature happenings occurred similar to the above and I decided to cut ties with a very blunt
"Goodluck with life, you won't be hearing from me again"

Next!

Under, Over, Through

When I was in preschool and kindergarten I ate lunch by myself under a table.

I would also only eat the top aka "trees" of broccoli.

I just thought you would like to analyze me based on my childhood behavior.

Unorthadox

I went on a date to a Japanese restaurant on Sunday.
Since I don't eat sushi but am willing to at least try (thanks to my mom's 'You have to try everything once and if you don't like it, you don't have to eat it again' house rule repeating itself in my head) I had him order but I insisted on no miso soup.

When he asked me why no miso I replied "Because it tastes like diapers".

Now most women follow a strict set of first date rules where you time everything down to a science of how long you make them wait until you come out of the house, certain conversation topics that are okay and certain topics that are not, manners, what to wear, laughing at their jokes.
I take 90% of it and step on it. I've reached the point where I have good manners and am good at conversation, but I don't like keeping people waiting, I inhale my food, I use sarcasm in place of laughter and I don't hold back on analogies no matter how odd.

I compared a food to a diaper and let the freak flag fly freely and we're hanging out again tonight.

See ladies?
Be yourself.

Monsters Under the Bed

Does this woman scare the crap out of anyone else?
I find her to be terrifying.

Beware the Jabberwock!

We have had Mini for about four years now and decided, after being bit by the heifer more times than we care to count, that we should bring her in for her shots.
We went to Target, bought her a soft kitty carrier, planned out the vaccination day, and woke up early (9 am on a Saturday, eek the horror) to bring the rabid monster to get injected.
Now, I wasn't expecting it to be an easy task, getting her into the carrier, but I didn't realize it would be impossible.

Try 1 Plan:
I hold open the bag, prep to zipper, J picks her up and puts her inside.
Try 1 Result:
As soon as her head was in that thing she flipped the eff out and used all her power to get out of that torture device.
Mini 1, Us 0

Try 2 Plan:
Zip it up 1/2 way and I would quickly zip it.
Try 2 Result:
Smart kitty, she's catching on and she'll be damned if she makes it in there without some bloodshed. I get snagged in the finger by her talons.
Mini 2, Us 0

Try 3 Plan:
Wrap her in a towel to cover the claws, then throw her in the bag. No more Ms. Nice Pet Owner
Try 3 Result:
J got a snag on his palm and Mini keeps running away, then coming back full or piss & vinegar with a "I DARE YOU to try it again beotch" look on her face.
Mini 3, Us 0

Last resort:
Bribe her with her food bowl in the bag, seeing as she's a cow and her entire existence revolves around feeding time.
Last resort result:
She sniffed it, looked at us, turned her back on the whole situation, and then went to groom herself.
Mini 4, Us 0

We didn't get to the vet.

I must say, in her honor, she didn't try to bite us or scratch us, we merely got in the way of her desperate fighting to not go in the bag, had this been a year ago she would've slit our throats and eaten us as Meow Mix for the next week.

For the next hour she sat there looking at us with this expression that was a mix of confused and betrayed as if saying "Why are you trying to force me into that awful little bag? All I ever did was love you, I don't understand".
Seriously, that was the face, I wish I had taken a picture.
Cats are so manipulative. We spent the rest of the day giving her pets and hugs like we did something terrible to her by trying to keep her alive and healthy.
Suckers.
Little does she know we're trying again on 2/7 and next time it's a plastic carrier with a door.
Bring it Mini. Game on.

Under the Knife

As of today I have lived in L.A. for four years.
4 years and I haven't dyed my hair, had plastic surgery, or slept with anyone to get ahead in "the biz"
Yay me!

Too Much Sugar

I had a dream the other night that I woke up from my "in dream sleep" and was sleeping near a bear and I was freaking out because I needed to leave to room before the bear mauled my brains out.
So I exit the room somehow and there's more bears!
I scream for my Dad and he runs out and I say
"Dad! We need to get out of here!"
And he says
"Don't worry I'll throw the rhino down the stairs!"
He then threw a rhinoceros down the stairs and I woke up.

I think I need to cut the excessive amounts of sugar out of my diet.
But thanks Dad for saving the day in my dream, via super rhino tossing powers.
Way to step up to the challenge.

Does Anyone Have a Band-aid?

My friend fell last Friday and ended up in the hospital with a fractured vertebrae and a concussion.
She's okay.
She has to wear a back brace for two months but she will survive...we're going to bedazzle it.
I went to the hospital that night to check in on her and, after a hefty dose of pain meds, out poured some of these gems:
(Note: No limbs were amputated in the making of this story)

"I feel like i'm in NeverNeverLand and we're all the lost boys"

"Take pictures! I want to make a scrap book of this! Can you find a scrap book in the shape of a band-aid and put it all together so I can show people?"

"I want my hair done like Princess Leia from that movie"

Nurse: "Can I get you anything?"
Wounded Soldier: "Chicken! You can get me chicken!"

"I'm going to make a dating profile and one of the requirements will be 'must be able to push a wheelchair' "

Raisins

I hate raisins.

One time at the relative's house my uncle was eating raisins...then we all settled in to watch a movie and I was laying on the carpet.
I got up and my aunt screamed because there was a little black nugget on the ground.
She thought I pooed on the ground.
It was a raisin.
Who poos on someone's carpet?

Eff raisins.

Dancing House

Someone once told me that if I was a building I would be the Dancing House in Prague.
It was the best compliment I have ever received.

Wise for my Years

I am 26 and have lived in 4 decades so far.
Think on that.

Sen Sen Invasion

There are these little licorice squares that my Nana used to give me called "sen-sen". They're a breath freshener/candy thing that taste like potpourri smells and I only like them because they make me think of my youth and hanging out with Nana and her ice cream cone cereal.
Last year, while visiting Michigan, my Nana had come across some and offered me a packet and I was psyched (she was reluctant to part with them but I talked her into it).
I came back to L.A. and shared them with several people who spit them out immediately because they tasted like old people and pinecones.
Since then I keep them in my purse for emergencies (aka viscous garlic dinners...smooching with no gum on hand, etc).
Well...to make an already longer than necessary story shorter...they exploded in my purse. Every week I find the little squares in obsure places (even though I'm pretty sure I threw out 100's of the little monsters).
Yesterday I came home from the gym...was about to get in the shower...took off my sock.
And VOILA! A sen sen. Stuck to the bottom of my foot.
Sneaky bastards those sen-sen.

Don't Rain on My Parade

I was singing so loud in my car last night that I think I pulled a vocal chord...it feels like I have a sore throat but not really...more like a pulled muscle.

Apparently I need to stop pretending that I'm Barbara Streisand in Funny Girl and stick with Ani DiFranco.

Little Helper

Let me introduce you to my coworker: Stocking Stuffer

Grease Monkey

I hate applying sunscreen.
I hate the process and the time it takes and the greasy feeling after and the smell so much that I just stay out of the sun.
If anyone wants to send me a spray tan machine that applies odorless sunscreen that would be great.

Thanks in advance.

Sad Clown

I always have a quick moment of sadness every time I finish a vending machine bag of Famous Amos.
My mouth is like "really? only 5? Lick the crumbs!"
Unfortunately when I actually purchase a whole box I end of finishing it all in a day...so I guess some is better than 105.

A Lesson in Vocabulary

The Jetsons are on t.v. right now, I hit the "info" button on my remote to see which episode it is...here is that the info says:
"Cogswell threatens Spacely Sprockets with obsolescence"
This is a kid's program.
I used to watch this when I was 6.
I am now 26.
WTF does obsolescence mean?
And how is that supposed to help a child know what the show is about?

WWJD?

My friend came across this gem on Amazon.com.
What are Catholics buying these days?
Apparently customers who bought "Life With God" bought:
Communion cups, communion wafers, communion bread, and Astro glide lubricant.
So THAT'S what Jesus would do.