H A Double L O W Double E N

You know, Halloween is one of those words that I sing a song to know how to spell. I know I'm not alone, Ashley does it too. Do it with friend too but not all the time. Once in a while I'll find myself singing it as I'm spelling it. "I'm a F R I E N D Friend in deed!" Damn elementary school...

Anyway, Happy Halloween. Mine is going to be filled with night class and some suckers. That's about it. Talk about semi-depressing afternoon, first in my one class we finished watching the movie about Rwanda and well nightmares tonight thanks to the gruesome images. Genocide does not make for a nice nights sleep. Then, in my other class I was sitting there, enjoying a pink lemonade sucker and I drop it. Yeah. I drop the damn thing. Actually it was more of a fling. I was holding it and absently minded bent the stick and it went flying. A perfectly good sucker right down the tubes. I wasn't nearly done with either, that's the real kicker. And right now I just opened another, a mystery flavored one and YUCK. It was chocolate. Who in the hell would think that's good? I like chocolate when it will melt in my damn mouth not be disintegrated by my spit. (yeah, that was a little gross..sorry) So now I have a grape. And it is delicious.

Le Sigh. Anyway something more intelligible than my woes of candy.

Francisco (oooh that's fun to say) Cordero might not re-sign with the Brewers just because he wants more cash. The team wants him, he's happy in Milwaukee, he's just being a dickwad and holding out for money! That drives me nuts. Athletes and their need for millions of dollars. Oh boo hoo. You poor thing, on you're salary you might not be able to go buy that third house you've always wanted not to mention the $400,000 car. It is just cruel and unusual to expect you to get by with just two multimillion dollar houses and the cars you have now.
Give me a break. You play freaking baseball for a living. Oh that's a tough job. Why don't you go get a real one and make $35,00 a year and see how you like it mmk? Cripes. Half the reason why I and many I know can't stand the Yankees is just that. The big wallet to buy the talent. The other half consists of just pure annoyance and other things. Won't bore you with it, though I'm guessing that it's too late.

Still waiting for that intelligible thought? Yeah alright.

Well, I am completely intoxicated with the idea of writing something, a story, a movie, a whatever, in a epistolary form. Except instead of using letters as the narration using a blog. It'd be classic literary form meets the 21st century. Not so much Sex and the City where the show is narrated from Carries articles because that, to me at least, isn't a true narration of the events. It's more her posing questions about dudes and doing it.

I don't know. I think it could work, but how exactly I'm not sure. The idea has been kicking around in my head for a little while now.

Alrighty. I feel like laying down so I think I might.

Hasta la pasta

Those school girl days...

I love animal crackers. Both frosted and non-frosted. Right now I have a nice 3 pound bag of the non-frosted ones, and I think I've ate about two pounds so far which sounds kinda nasty, anyway, I love to play with them. I'll be sitting there watching TV and having the camel be chased by the buffalo. The end result? The camel's head getting bit off before the buffalo meets his untimely demise. Stampedes of cows are met with a monster of pearly (off)white complexion that chops them off at the legs. I found that if I bite the head off of one I can stick it on the body of another by licking the two pieces and sticking them together. So not only do I get to mangle animals I get to mutate them as well. I think that you are never too old to enjoy the fun of animal crackers. The same goes with balloons.

Balloons are fun regardless of age. At the start the amusement was because they floated. Then came the chasing/popping stage and then the hot lava stage. And the appeal of trying to keep the balloon from hitting the ground still lingers. I also like it when a string is attached so I can beat it like one of those paddle things. Very Blazing Saddles. I also like to attempt to kick it. You can just whip them around and not worry about breaking stuff while releasing some stress. They are magnificent!

...and I just wasted five minutes playing with one.

Gah. Headache.

I'm outtie and remember...I less than three you.

(get it?! hehe.)

Knock Three Times...

Hello one and the other two or three people that read this thing.

So, knock on wood, I think the internet will no longer be a bitch. I'm looking around my room and it'll be hard to find some real wood. Meh, I'll take this fake crap and knock on it.

So ahny-ways. Want to read of a testament to my political nerdness? There's a letter on the counter from the Census Bureau and I got all excited because I thought that the census was this year. Silly me, it's not. They're doing a survey about the CPI or something. Not nearly as fun as being counted in order to find out the proper congressional representation!

Yeah. What can I say? I was thinking the other day how I am the strangest cheap person. I love to give my money away to those who need it but to spring for name brand bread? That's crazy talk. What does that make me? Well, I guess a democrat.

Alright I was gonna type more but surprise surprise! I actually have something to do! YAY!

Peace out my home dawgs.

Awkward.

Awkward. Awkward awkwardawkwardawkward awk-word. AWKWARD!

Whew. Ok. Got that off my chest. (and does anyone else think the word awkward looks just that? Awkward? The w's mushing with the k. No?) What's awkward? Well I can't really say. I just had to let it out.

Now that that's over with...

I don't like Rachel Ray. (just jumping right into it) I can't stand the woman and I have to see her face everyday at work because she's on Ritz cracker boxes. Not to mention magazines. She annoys the piss out of me. Maybe it's because she seems to be on all the time or maybe it's because she thinks shes cleaver but really not. Or it could be her voice. Something about her voice, the accent she has going on and the sheer volume that she uses drives me bonkers. "Oh my gawd. Would you look at this potata! Its HUGE! I'm gonna slice it up and add some salt and butter and MM. You are going to LOVE IT!" I like voices, I'm huge on voices. A dude could be the sexiest man alive but if I can't stand the way he talks then screw it. Jack Davenport...sexy voice. I could listen to him talk all day about absolutely nothing. I would watch a crappy movie just to hear those succulent tones. Mike Rowe. Nice voice. Comforting tones that sort of engulf you and put you at ease. I just like voices and Rachel Ray's is anything but comforting. And that stupid little smirky face. People who smile too much while talking are creepy. To be flashing the whites at all times even when talking about how to properly season a pork loin isn't necessary. You don't need to look pissed or anything just talk. Look content or whatever. Aye. The woman needs to be stopped.

...I just like voices. But not my own. Isn't it weird how if you hear yourself talk on a tape or video it is the most horrendous thing? My own voice is awful to me! Don't mind hearing it through my head but yikes. I pity the fools who listen to me talk. Perhaps that's why I'm not so much a talker and more of a typer. That and I'm a little slow with the witty reporte. (rapport? raportay? Ok so if I'm gonna use a word I should really know how to spell it I know. Just sound it out and see if you get it) Or I have a certain internal filter that won't let me say what I want to say out loud for fear of whatever but I can do it from behind my desk so I can hide behind it. Don't know. Probably doesn't help I had a speech impediment.

Right-o. I have a freaking paper to write. Due tomorrow and how far am I? I got nothing.

Adios amigos.

Roll, roll, roll in zee dough.

Another day, another dollar. Got paid today. Won't say the amount because it'll probably make you jealous. If you were a sweatshop working making a buck 75 an hour that is. If you don't then there is a fighting chance you probably make a shit ton more than me.

But anyway, moving on. I think I can wear a costume to work tomorrow for the Halloween festivities but I'm not too sure. I mean I saw a sign and everything but I was talking with a boss lady and she didn't think so. So I probably won't dress up. Which won't suck too much since 1) I don't have a costume and 2) the badgers play tomorrow so I can wear jeans as is. Though I did get to thinking about costume ideas on the way home and I came up with baseball fan (woohoo Counsell shirt!) and a roughneck. (damn you Dirty Jobs!) You know, just splash some mud or mud looking substance onto some cheap clothes and my face and viola, instant oil driller.

Hey, perfect segway (wtf is that not a word or am I just dumb?) to something on my list! The comparison of this store with my old one. Wait did I do this already? No I don't think so. Well. Let me tellya, there is a difference. (Since I'm lazy and can't just do initials of the towns that the stores are in since they both start with F's it'll be C and P. Figure that one out wise person!) First off, the customers at P are so much freaking nicer then those at C it is ridiculous! I mean I've been there a little over a month now and I haven't really had a bitch extraordinaire yet. At C I got like ten of those a week. And no one at P watches the screen like a frigging hawk to make sure the prices are right like at C. The people are just so damn nice. It's a tad bit scary coming from a store where I got a little nervous if something didn't go right ie something wasn't scanning to a store where shit, you can take all damn day and they don't mind. Yes I know that the demographics at P are far different then at C. P is in a small town, C is in a hub of cities all around. You get that neighborly feel at P while at C it's like um, who the hell are you person? Holy crap. I just thought of this, I don't think there is anyone but white people working at P. Huh. Well that's a difference right there. At C you didn't go bag for other people if you didn't have a customer. And if you did it was only to a register next door, it was risque if you went three away. Shit. At P I'll be on two and the person who is on 7 will come bag for me and no one has any issues with it. It's just so weird! I'm going to get spoiled at this store. I'll go back to C, all bright eyed and thinking that people aren't as bad as I once thought they were and then SMACK! I'm gonna get hit across the face with a metaphoric fist as the first person comes through my line and bitches that the avocados should be a dollar. Then I'll remember my doubt in humanity. It'll come rushing back.

Funny thing. My pessimistic out look at things, most notable people, is a good quality for journalists. The second guessing what everyone says and stuff like that is good. Score! A skill set I have that didn't take anything to get it. Me likey. And I've also decided that when I look back at my college years I'm going to refer to it as J school. You know, journalism school. Though technically I don't go to a school that has a journalism school. But saying "back in CA school" is no fun. Communications and Arts just lacks fun. J school makes me sound like someone special. Like Med school or Law school. It's the shit. Ooooh and Grad school. I'll just go to grad school so I can say that. "Well while at J school I decided to go on to Grad school, become a master of the field of mass communication. I've been thinking of perhaps gaining my PhD as well. So then it's off to post-grad school and a 200 page thesis on the media consolidation in the United States with a special emphasis on the print medium. Just call me doctor" And theres a sentece that I'll never utter again. Though if I do it'll be with the affluent voice that I typed it in. Oh yeah.

This is getting too long. Have a nice night.

Crossing things off.

Deed deedle dee.

So the interent is being as moody as a 13 year old. One minute fine, the next its driving you crazy. I'll have to deal.

Sad. I'm sitting here at this time on a Thursday night but the sweet sweet nectar of cyber space always pulls me in when its available.

Anywhoo. Making my way down my list of blog ideas. Chugging away on the thought train. Toot toot. Lets see here...I have wrote on my sheet.... Welding and pen separation. No, those two topics aren't intertwined in any way I just want to get two done in one go.

For some odd reason I have the urge to learn how to weld. I don't know how or why this urge came about but there is something about hot flames and melting steel that I'm all for. It isn't like I have Flashdance aspirations...mainly because I've never seen the movie but I have seen I Love the 80s and know what its about. I think it'd be oddly fun. Probably because I have never done anything like it before so why not try my handy skills with something flaming?

Right. Thought I'd share that!

Now for pen separation. I lent a kid one of my pens the other day (and that is huge for me!) and well, it wasn't right. I feel like a nervous mama or something. I kept looking over to make sure it wasn't being disrespected in anyway. (You know, being twirled in a disorderly fashion or being sucked on) As it got time to leave I became slightly nervous I wouldn't get it back. So I lingered a little, trying to show that I need my pen to move on. It ended well except it was violated with germs from coughing. Poor pen.

I really need to not be so damn weird when it comes to those. I mean really. If someone asks to borrow my pen I make a conscious effort to give them the crappiest one I have. Or if I can't I might lie and say I don't have another but here, take this pencil. Or at work I watch the perpetrator like a hawk and make sure they don't walk about with my pen. My pen. There is a difference between the pen left out for customers and the one I keep for myself. I care about the customer one primarily to protect my own.

How pathetic.

I need a boyfriend.

Ranting, raving and spitting fire.

I seem to complain a lot on this. That I know.

My hope is that I don't come across as a cranky ranting lunatic who is well, a bitch. My hope is that it is well aware that what I tend to rant and rave about are things of no true substance. I complain about things that really don't matter. I do so in a sarcastic way, or at least that is how I perceive it . When I bitch about work it is just something to do. It passes the time and I get a kick out of it because it tends to be about people or situations that I think most people would have some form of annoyance to. Rarely after I have left the confides of the store do I have any lingering anger. I don't preoccupy my time totally about the dumbass and his coupons from hell.

I'm just saying. When I complain about stupid things it's just that, stupid. And I think it goes along with something I heard once. How it is much harder for a person to accept a compliment then it is for a person to put down another. I don't know what it is about the human condition or maybe it is strictly American that we find it awkward when someone says something nice but I think that's where my silly tirades come from.

Just so you know.

And did you here the news?! Dumbledore from Harry Potter is gay! I'm not entirely surprised by that, I did find it somewhat suspicious that he didn't seem to attract the witches. That JK Rowling is a mysterious, fascinating woman. Her mind seems quite amazing.

Ooooooooh my! Someone is cooking something that smells absolutely fantastic. I want what ever it is. It smells like...well mint mojito because I just blew a bubble but perhaps chicken or a casserole. Mmmmm. I want some. And speaking of my great sense of smell, I think I have one, I amazed people with my ability to correctly name a liquor. It was Bacardi O. And then I did it again with Sminoff strawberry. Though I didn't guess the name brand right away.

Ooooh maybe since I have a good sense of smell that would mean I'd make a good chef! Or perhaps that just means I've been watching too much Iron Chef America. I just love that damn show!

Ok. I'm outie like a baby's belly button.

Roads. Rooods Ro-ads.

What's that from? Anyone anyone? Black Sheep.

I'm sitting here, enjoying a nice little Saturday morning doing not much. And I got to thinking about tshirts. You know my weakness? That and pens, sharpies and really good coffee. So I went to cafepress.com and was looking around, thinking about what I want on a tshirt since you can make your own and I decided I want a tshirt that says "JJ Makes Me Hardy" And then after that I was looking at all the custom made Wisconsin ones and after about the tenth time of reading Wisconsin it happened. You know when you say anything too much in a short time span it starts to sound really, really weird? Well that's what happened. I giggled to myself and couldn't help but think "Man, Wisconsin is a really really weird word! Wisconsin. heheh." Is it sad? You betchya. It's just a strange phenomenon, when an ordinary word sounds weird because you say it to much. Happens when I think about my name. Katie. What's up with that? katie katie katie. It's just weird!

I need to stop thinking about useless stuff so much.

(Oh and I found a great shirt I want. Has the outline of the state on it and up top says Wisconsin and below it says Sorry about that McCarthy thing. Hehe)

Um. Right. So obviously I've turned into a blogging fool. Don't worry, it's bound to slow down once I get over the fact that I have internet.

Right-o. Nothing to do until work time but I'll attempt to find something.

Twice in one night?

....what I want to say in response to the blog title...will not...say it.

Anyhoo. Yes. I am back again. Why? Well because I am what would be called in most circles a loser. Yeah. I...I have no life. I don't party and I don't really do much of anything but I figure if I'm happy enough then why not? Plus I have the paralyzing fear of getting caught as an underager and then having to pay a $200+ fine and my parents telling me I'm cut off.

But as I sit here with Harry the Hodag on my lap, a beer in front of me and a bag of "healthy" chips, I was back reading my blog just as a self evaluation type thing (and learned that I should perhaps proof read) and because I don't have anything better to do, I wrote down all my blog ideas! Yah! I got smart I wrote them down! The ones I claim not to remember but really do it's just more of a once I start typing I don't quite remember what I was going to type about and then it is ten minutes later and the entry is done and I can't go back and change the whole thing because heaven forbid one of my few readers would have read it already.

Breath.

So I have the list now. And now I shall write one of them down!
This I call the Wal-Mart Blues. It's fitting because I went to the Discount City tonight all by my lonesome and when I wrote what I'm about to type I had just gone to Wal-Mart all alone. So here it is...

There is nothing more lonely and sad than walking into a Wal-Mart on a Saturday night. Especially when it is just about dark but the sun is still peaking its last rays over the horizon, splashing the landscape in golden glow. Magic hour, one of the prettiest times of day. Not a time of day to be walking into Wal-Mart, a building that is anything but beautiful. Florescent lights stretching out in every way, reflecting off the white floors to give you the feeling of double vision. Recycled air in your lungs, the only sounds that surround you are the hallow, solo "flip flop" to remind you you're alone. A continuous drone of elevator music and pop tunes mixed with nauseating cheerful voices informing you of the deals and steals of the week follow you no matter where you are. Even a venture into the jungle of electronics to paw through the coveted $5.50 DVD bin cannot release you from the grasps of the music. Twenty TV screens scream the same thing at you but in the background "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head" continues to haunt you. A solitary weave through the aisles past families, friends and couples remind you like a slap on the face of your current status. Standing in a Wal-Mart on a Saturday night completely alone with nothing to look forward to. A reality that is sad, but ordinary. A lifestyle some are accustomed to. It's the Wal-Mart blues.

There you have it.

Yesterday....

Was my 248 months birthday. Yeah. That's right. In December when it's my 250th I'll take presents.

The reason I thought of that was because as I sat in class yesterday, bored, I was writing the date on my paper and making it look pretty and then it dawned on my that it was four months until my birthday and then I thought well hey, how many months old am I? So I did the math. And I figure if kids can be called 16 months old instead of a year and a half then why not spice things up and do my age in months?

And I would have posted it yesterday but my internet is a bitch. Plain and simple. A bitchy bitch.

Gosh. I come up with all these ideas to blog about and then I end up spending an entry bitching about the internet so then I don't use the ideas. Oh well. That's just how it'll have to go I guess.

I have a rumbly in my tummbly. I need food so I am outta here.

Get Me to the Church on Time

My weekend was quite jammed pack and that generally doesn't happen. It was amazing. Usually I sit around on my toosh, go to work, sit around some more, sleep, watch some tube, sit around and then finally on Sunday do some homework.

Not this weekend people, not this weekend. Friday night was full of working then a Fiesta where we proceeded to talk like Forrest Gump at times which was good for a giggle. Saturday got up nice and semi early to go to the Homecoming Parade and get pockets full of candy. Then home afterwards for some laundry and labor with a little school work thrown in and then it was Sunday.

Oh Sunday. Getting up at 6 AM and being pissed at my mom for the whole ride down to Monroe wasn't fun. I was cranky. She was annoying. Whattya going to do about it? We were going to my aunt's wedding that day and as Ashely pointed out after I told her that I had been in three states in three hours and I quote "Wow 3 states in 1 day, that's more than you've seen in the last 5 years!" Damn her! Damn her and her inconvenient truth! Yes. Illinois and Iowa all in one day! I can finally stop bitching....maybe. Got lost in Iowa. Got to the church after it had started. Nice ceremony. Ate a ton at the potluck and got some quality kiddie time. (hehe. Again, what can I say?) Didn't get lost trying to get home from Iowa which was nice. Laughed at the old ladies (which I say with love of course...) as they complained about the bridge going over the Mississippi in Dubuque. Ate some pie from Pick N Slave and then headed home.

That is more activity in one day then I have had in I don't know how long. I guess going up North would qualify as action but really, that's routine. This wasn't.

Aww shucks. I should go to bed. I'm tired.

Word to your mother!

Double Whammy

Whoa. This post has two important aspects to it. One is the celebration of internet access the other is that this is my 100th post.

Lets party people.

First...Wooohoo! I got the inter-net! I can sit here. In my roo-oom. (I'm going for that celebratory song type deal. Did that translate? No..Ok.) Yes. It is finally, finally here. After weeks of anticipation and agony of sorts I have once again been reconnected to that old love. I can now be happy.

Second...100! Yay!

Yeah...that whole finding a crafty way to celebrate it? Didn't happen. I was blinded by anger of just wanting access online that I spent most my time well doing school work but then feeling some anger. Though in retrospect it's a little bit my fault for taking so long to do what was necessary...

But back to celebrating! If my number of blog posts translated into years then my blog could be on the Today Show with Willard Scott saying nice things about it while being framed like it was on a Smuckers jelly can. "Well today ''taking it one day at a time'' celebrates it's 100th post. The blog is known for the authors feeble attempt at humor which mostly fails on a catastrophic level and that is whats so humorous about it. Also the rantings of things not interesting. Happy blogirth day!"

There. My celebration!

I'm cooking some pasta and it says to cook it al dente (whatever that means) I need to keep the cover off. And now I'm sing Alluente. (which isn't spelled right....)

Alluent shuntay alluente! Alluenta shuntay alluea!

Right. So not right but I don't care!

I'm out!

They're going to pay it in the Ghetto.

Fuck the Ghetto!
(the nickname for my building of course)

To steal from Bulworth, with some changes. I'm katie and I've come to say, the landlords got some shit to pay! They're going to pay it in the ghetto! They're going to pay it in the ghetto!

Cripes. I'm getting sick of all the internet issues! I can't do anything for classes with out it. Its a must. I need it. It no longer falls in the want category it falls in the I fucking need it already assholes.

I feel slightly better.

I have work to do.

The Start of Something Beautiful

Could it be? That this internet connection is here to stay? That after a month of anticipation and waiting I finally, finally have a reliable source of that precious commodity called cyber space?

Hope so. I was getting sick of going to the library for long amouts of time. It's bliss.

While I should be studying for an exam I can't help but come here and waste some quality time.

Today I decided to wear my "In Soviet Russia Shirt Wears You" shirt and funny enough, we talked about the Cold War in my International Relations class! Talk about perfect timing! I've also decided, thanks to the class, that there are way to many -ists and -isims. Not to pull a Ferris Bueller and say that -isims are not good, it's just that there are too many. I'm sick of them. I can't seem to escape them. Communism, liberalism, feminism. Traditionalist, revisionist, realist. I find them annoyinist.

But what can one expect with a political science minor? It'd be like a biology student forging a war on -ology. A battle never to be won.

Ooooh with the return of the interent to my life that means I can now make my sister read my blog more often since she claims the only way to get to it is through my AIM profile. coughfavoriteithoochcough.

I'm coming up to my 100th post. I should come up with something crafty to post in celebration of it. Don't have a clue what. 100 is kind of a big number to list favorite things. I'm not Forbes after all. I'll come up with something. Or not and totally forget about it. Who knows? Suspense is good.

I need to do something productive now before my night class.

I'm outtie.

Oh PS I've wasted even more time now to update my profile. Take a looksee.
NOW!

double turds!

Dang it! No interent yet.

booooooooooo.

Perhaps today when I get back there it will be, just waiting for me. That's be amazing because let me say I was greatly inconvenienced today by not having it. My own stupidity didn't help much but the Internet would have been amazing to have. I forgot to print off an article for homework so I've been sitting here for the past hour and a half freezing while reading and writing.

Dang it!

I want to watch Speed 2 really bad. I saw a kid the other day with these multi colored shoes and the first thing that I thought of when I say them was deaf girl from Speed! So naturally I had to text Lauren and she agreed that the shoes would make a person want to watch Speed so now we're both Jonezing to watch it.