Reid My Crack

It's little, but it's rock hard.

No matter.

All I know is, my ass looks damn fine compared to Tara Reid's lumpy posterior.


Danke to Miu von Furstenberg for showing us the gory pics.

Baked Apples

So I've made our reservations for Vegas.

The girls and I will be staying at Caesar's in a "Deluxe Tower Guest Room" oooh for a weekend next month. I told Micah a big draw for our choice (which included The Luxor, Paris, New York New York) was the topless sunbathing. My friends from college and a few years after know I have a bit of an exhibitionist streak in me.

I guess it's a little hungry.

I'm trying to whore out my media connections to try and score a few free club entries, but we'll see how successful that is. My friends and I didn't wait in one line or pay cover at any bars last year because of my tv ties, hopefully this year is more of the same.

Sometimes you just gotta pimp.
********************************
Updates:
*I got some of that magic serum to boost my DSLs. It's basically an ultra tingly lip gloss that boosts the blood flow beneath the surface of my pucker. I don't know that it would be a good idea to wear said gloss when committing one of those sex acts that's illegal in 13 states including Alabama and South Carolina. And to think, the sheep there run scared.

(Speaking of animal sex, this story was posted on the bulletin board at work. Us TV people love news of the weird, don't we? Gross. Aren't people in Seattle appropriately stimulated by all the Starbucks' around town?)

*My ghetto window is still broken. I think it adds to the classy appeal of my peeling paint job and smashed up grill. Honestly, it's just not a priority on my list of Things to Care About. There's something kind of liberating having a junked up car that's paid off. I'm sure things will change when I get my new wheels.

*Three weeks after mutually ignoring each other, Ground Chuck has taken a renewed interest in me. D-Money says the cold shoulder is killing him, I am wondering whether he lonely at night. Whatever. This guy is another one of those with a serious case of the Peter Pan Syndrome.

*I have joined the legions of singletons on E Harmony. Don't know how successful it will be, but it cost me all of 50 bucks, so I guess it's worth a try. Next time I'm just going to buy a really great vibrator.

News Of The Weird

Okay, I must admit, I wanted to keep my wisdom teeth when they were removed. But this story takes saving body parts to a new extreme.

I only wish I could show you the video I saw at work on the CNN server. All I'll say is this: The body part in question, in a big bucket, and the dude's stirring it with a stick.

And I'd kick his ass if he ever gave me a piece of it as a gift.

Dorothy was so lucky to leave Kansas.

ICE Mom

WARNING: The following is actually a bit of news and might do you some good.

My mom's not a super hero or an Ice Queen, though I'm sure I would have argued that during my teen years.

No, Ice refers to a new campaign hatched after the London Bombings.

Emergency workers sometimes have a tough time figuring out who a person's emergency contacts are during a crisis. If you're carrying a cell phone, you can denote by putting ICE before your contact name. In Case of Emergency.

Now Showing

What's been in and out of my DVD player the last four days:


About Schmidt- Great flick. I like how it makes a statement on a man's regret and loneliness once he discovers he's spent a life completely devoid of any personal connection with his loved ones.
And you've got to give Kathy Bates props for getting buck naked in her 60s.

Master And Commander : The Far Side of The World- Loved the blond on Russell Crowe, but it took forever for them to make it to land. And Paul Bettany? He looked pretty good with the brown hair. All in all, I think the movie would have been better on the big screen.

Anger Management- The movie was alright. I liked the Bobby Knight/John McEnroe cameos but other then that, well, I don't know. It was kind of lame. And they should have had Rob Schneider yell "You can do it" at the baseball game instead of Giuliani.

Kill Bill: Vol 2- Oh how I loved this flick. You all know my fascination with girls who kick ass. I love all of QT's flicks, and this one totally lives up to the expectations. And I was glad Uma got the girl in the end (her little girl, guys.)

The Ladykillers- Kind of funny. It was nice to see Hanks play someone other than The Nice Guy Stuck In The Middle of Some Drama.

Brown Bag Lunch

Normally I would run the questions from Friday's Feast, but they haven't come out yet, so I'm going to answer questions from my the voices in my head.

So, Kate. What are you wearing right now?
What is this, an AOL chat room? Considering I'm at work right now, I'll probably be disappointing you with my answer. Nonetheless, I've got on my blue jeans, a black tee with a bit of lace along the bottom, some black slides and my glasses. Nothing really racy here. You caught me on an off day, sorry.

Here's a soft ball for ya. What's your favorite kind of candy?
Oooh! I get so excited about anything toffee. I am crazy about chocolate covered toffee, whether it's in ice cream, cookies or just by itself. In a vending machine, I'd have to say it's peanut M & Ms or 3 Musketeers.

What's your biggest mistake of the week?
Goin' right for the jugular, aren't ya? It's one of two things. A delay I've been making on sending out a thank-you note. I'm a firm believer in that social grace, unfortunately my note cards can't find their way to the mail box. The other mistake could be my newscast yesterday. I didn't flush the show, but there were a couple bumps I was rather disappointed in. Oh well, at least I get to put my work behind me when I leave at the end of the day.

Which was your favorite birthday as a kid?
It wasn't my five year birthday party, that's for sure. I threw a tantrum because, as an innately competitive person, I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to win all the games. I remember tears streaming down my face and my parents apologizing profusely to the other kids because I wanted all the prizes. It was my party, I guess, and I could cry if I wanted to. I think my favorite birthday was when I was turning 11 or 12. I had five other girls over to my house and my mom piled all of us up in my dad's huge, land shark company car. We all drove up the interstate to this fancy-schmancy restaurant for lunch and then went back home for dessert. We had cake and ice cream and cocoa served by my mom with her silver tea service.

It was so grown up.

If you could do one thing to change your appearance, what would it be?
Well, I've been spending a lot of money for the past 10 years to fix my awful head of hair. It's nice and straight and blonde now, quite different from my days in high school.

My teeth are recently whitened and have been stick straight for a long time, so I'm happy with them. I've got a bit of curve here and there, but nothing that's unsightly. Still, I've been spending lots of time at the gym to kind of, er, streamline things.

If I had to do one thing, it would probably be a breast reduction. Woodward and Bernstein (as I call them) can be a bit difficult to tote around, especially when buying dresses. They're always great in the waist and too small up top, or just fine up there and loosy goosy down there.

1 Month Out: Viva Las Vegas Divas

Today Cincinnati is effin hot. It's one of those days like when I was a little girl; my daddy would open up the four doors of the car and crank the AC up to full speed before he'd let us get in.

"Be careful of the seat belts girls, they're really hot."

But we'd always hit 'em by accident, anyway.

*****************************************************************
So Vegas should be interesting. I'm bringing along three chicks who don't know each other.

One is the reporter on my morning show. She was recently voted one of Cincinnati's most attractive TV women and is a perfect wingman. We both love to go out and yet enjoy all different kinds of going out, whether it be to art museums, dance clubs, chi-chi restaurants (as opposed to Chi-Chis restaurants), pub type bars or wine bars. D-Money, as we call her, is so sensitive too, and so I love it because she can immediately change from being the club chick to Dr. Makeyafeelgood.

Another gal pal going on the trip is my friend I affectionately call MacBoob. She's a reporter in LA and is totally unpredictable. She loves her cat Boris, and almost exclusively refers to him in this funny old-man cartoon voice. And yet she interviews big time celebrities and goes to all the cool spots as a West Coast journalist. There are two reasons why we call the gal MacBoob, and you notice them as soon as you meet her. She's spunky, blonde, and has all kinds of great stories, whether they're about her or her free spirit parents. I remember one time we all got so drunk and she started playing showtunes on her saxophone in her A-P-T. She's a trip and I look forward to catching up with her.

The third chick is one of my best friends from high school. You know she's cool the minute you meet her because of her awesome accent from South Africa. Nik (a pilot in Florida) and I got to know each other because we were the two newest kids in school our sophomore year, and we've been friends ever since. This year marks our ten years out from graduation (can't believe it's been that long) and yet we've heard nary a word about a reunion. No matter, we're going to make our own in Sin City. It's been, like, two years since I've seen the chick, and I can't wait to talk about the old days, including the time I almost killed us. Let's just say it involved a red light, a roach of a joint and my old Saab.

Ahh yes, those were the good old days.

Anyway. I think we're all looking forward to this little venture. I need to get out of dodge for a while, even if it's for 48 hours. I've been buying new "Vegas" clothes left and right and am getting ready to find a few bits of flash to compete with the glitter on The Strip. The girls and I are looking to just relax, enjoy some good food and drink and soak up a little bit of Vegas Glamour. I'm thinking it's going to be like a big sleepover for big girls with cool jobs and saucy attitudes.

Holla!

From Between The Synapses

Monday Afternoon:
So, right now I am enjoying the daylight that's wedged between my daily naps.

I held off on going to sleep the first time pretty well. Drove straight from work to my gym (one of those fancy ones with flat screens at every piece of cardio equipment, lots of marble tile in the locker rooms and my very own masseuse named Sven, complete with big, tanned guns and huge (I mean HUGE) hands.

Please, people. Let me at least enjoy that last one for a few minutes before you call me out.

Anyway. I made it to the gym this morning and somehow was inspired to work out Like a Mean Bitch for an hour and a half. You could wring my shirt out afterwards, and somehow getting all hot and sweaty like that is so satisfying. It's great to know you can push your body a little bit and it will still survive.

I've decided I should start working out BEFORE work (meaning going there probably around 8:30 - 9:00 PM and then just showering there) so after doing my hard time on the elliptical and the treadmill, I decided to go get some supplies.

I walked into the Hyde Park Kroger voted Cincinnati's nicest grocery store because a) It's the fanciest b) The people are the prettiest and c) Almost every car in the parking lot is German. Including mine, but those of you who know me know that really doesn't mean a whole lot when we're talking about the Jetta and instantly felt like I was on an early 90's game show.

Cue the announcer: "How many groceries can Kate spend without going over the cash in her purse?"

I'm watching my pretty pennies (and even a few of the ugly ones) because I'm heading back to Vegas in just about one month, and let's face it: Cincinnati's a great town, but I'd rather live it up in Sin City than I would in a town that pretty much made a name for itself through protests at a Mapplethorpe exhibit.

But back to the jingle in my Seatbelt Purse...

So I had something like 34 bucks in my purse and really only went to the store to buy one thing: Mustache Bleach. Not for my face, silly. I lucked out and am very fair skinned and don't have those kinds of things to worry about. My middle sister, well, that's another story. She was always the pretty one growing up and I was always the smart one. The only drawback she had to her stunning beauty was her dark facial hair. My sister was a cheerleader, dated the quarterback of the football team and had everything else that goes with having a charmed life in high school.

I felt so bad for her when one time I was riding the boy's lacrosse bus to a game (I was the team manager. They loved my cupcakes) and one asshole player started commenting on her hirsutistic growth above the lips. I defended her honor, the good sister I was (we have a rule: we can trash eachother, but God help the person who rags on a sister to another).

To this day his name is mud at Christmas dinners.

Anyhoo.

I decided to stock up on a few neccessities, like skim milk, peaches, Special K and a new toothbrush. I also needed some lunch supplies (you can't really get take out when you eat lunch at 2:00 AM) like those Campbell Soup at Hand things and little applesauce cups.

You should have seen me in the aisles, comparing prices. So retarded. I think if you had woken me from one of my eternal drunken stupors back three or four years ago and told me how my life would be faring at at 28, I think I would have taken another swig of Cuervo.

Working On My DSLs

Sephora just opened up a new store in Cincinnati at Kenwood Town Centre.

This is what I want to buy when I go there.

It's some great lip gloss that came with a good reccomendation a while back by Daily Candy, as it enhances a gal's natural lip color, but it kind of tingles and apparently pumps said lips up a little bit. Sephora says they make your kisser look "bee-stung."

I can dig it.

Monday Cuppa Joe

Appetizer
What is your middle name? Would you change any of your names if you could? If so, what would you like to be called?
The middle name is Louise. Not so much a fan but I guess I'm stuck with it. My mom calls me Katy-Lou as a term of endearment and I'm alright with that. I love my name. I love the alliteration that comes with my first and last names (one of the cheapest but my most fond of all writing tricks).

I am also a bit of a fan of my last name, as I tend to think it's one of those names with symbolism you see in the books, just like Arthur Dimmesdale from The Scarlet Letter or Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. My name, fortunately, has positive implications.


Soup
If you were a fashion designer, which fabrics, colors, and styles would you probably use the most?
Bright colors everywhere, darling. I hate those muted earth tones. My two favorite colors are Kentucky Blue and Crimson Red (dare I say Louisville Red?) so I expect they'll make a prominent splash when I become a big girl homeowner someday. I want a red living room and a blue bathroom with a silver paint treatment on it (I have a vision...)

Salad
What is your least favorite chore, and why?
Do I have to pick just one? I guess it's washing dishes because there are so many of them! I don't have a dishwasher, which is a bit trifilin' considering I love to cook and am always using 25 different accoutrements for even the simplest of dishes. My future husband must be resigned to the fact that he will be the dishwasher, but I say that's a small price to pay considering dessert is on me.

Main Course
What is something that really frightens you, and can you trace it back to an event in your life?
That cupid has bad aim when I'm the target. I am a bit fearful my life's path won't cross with that of true love. The romantic and eternal optimist in me continues to hold on to the faith, but my age and everpresent singlehood is beginning to grate on that hope.

Dessert
Where are you sitting right now? Name 3 things you can see at this moment.
I am sitting at my desk at work. I see a studio camera, an antenna attached to a police scanner and a blue and yellow phone that exclusively receives all the wacko tv station phone calls. You know... the calls from people saying they have evidence that would solve a six year murder mystery, or calls from someone wanting a tv station to get involved in a child custody dispute (it's standard practice that we don't) or calls from someone saying they have a piece of toast that has the blessed virgin's face on it.

Okay, that last one we might be interested in on a slow day.

The 80s: The Grapefruit Diet and Leg Warmers

The 80s was all about indulgence, new money and living tragically hip.

The only spot though where that decadence didn't reign was in a person's diet. The Reagan Era ushered in the fad that deemed Thin is Beautiful.

People were all crazy with their Diet Coke and their Sergio Tacchini (or Adidas if you were really fly, yo) warm up suits. Girls put on their leg warmers and danced around like they were a maniac, maniac on the floor.

My mom got all consumed with dieting in the 80s. She did Weight Watchers back when it was in its earlier beginnings. Oh, there was no point counting back then, folks. It was all about egg whites, milk and gross liver.

I think she started dragging me to Weight Watchers with her around 1989. Looking back on it, she says she can't believe she thought I had a weight problem. A look at the pictures is proof enough; I wasn't chubby, I was just big. My mom has a much smaller frame, and at the time I think she was checking in at a Size 8, whereas I was about a 12. Now she says she realizes her mistake, but I think that whole episode did a number on my body image. I've battled bulimia, mild starvation streaks and occasional obsessive-compulsive bouts with food. I often wonder how I would have turned out if she hadn't dragged me to all those meetings when I was 14.

To this day I only drink diet soda and skim milk.

Anyway, the weight battle continues for me. I was doing really well, down 15 ell bees before I moved to Cincinnati. This crazy ass schedule has done a number on my formerly consistent gym pattern. Now I'm lucky if I walk from my couch to my bed to go to sleep.

Hopefully that's changing.

I am going on a trip next month, and putting on a swim suit is sheer motivation to get me to the gym. I spent an hour on the elliptical trainer (remember those days when I was working out like a Mean Bitch?) yesterday and am all psyched up to go back today.

Drinking plenty of fluids? Check.

Still not wearing any leg warmers though.

Romance In The 80s: Glass Jars and Playgrounds

My dating style in the 80s was a bit primitive. For me, it was the era of girls dying to wear bras and boys doing stupid things to get the attention of the objects of their affection.

That meant running for cover from flying glass jars in my neighborhood.

My first kiss, Frank, had a strange way of showing he was diggin' on me. In the late 80s Frank and I were kind of two peas in a pod in the neighborhood. We were always playing Freeze Tag, Nintendo video games (remember when you were so psyched to get to the princess in Super Mario Brothers?) and otherwise up to no good. Mother Nature cursed us both with this awful, white-kid-afro hair that was reminiscent of something you'd see used to make a Brillo pad.

Anyway, Frank and I were pretty tight, at least as friendships go between girls and guys who are smack dab in the middle of all of the garbage that goes with puberty.

So, the year was probably 1989 and I was on foot, hoofin' it from my house to one of my many neighborhood babysitting jobs. I was passing Frank's house when I saw him running down the hill that made up his front yard. He was all, "Hey Kate!" smiling and stuff when he threw a Mason jar at me. Not the little ones used for jam, but the big ass ones used to keep your grandma's green beans when she's canning.

I remember I was wearing khaki shorts, a red and white Esprit top and I think some white, woven leather sandals. I was rad, if I say so myself. I was kind of freaked out by the whole glass jar episode, but my mom warned me that sometimes guys do mean things to the girls they like because they don't know how to otherwise show their feelings.

How gay is that?

The flipside to my dating (can I call it dating? I guess it's more just crushes) back in the 80s was the Playground Chase. I was big on this archaic technique in the early 80s, back when I was in 1st and 2nd grades. There was this one boy I really liked. He was blonde, very cute and our moms were good friends through the Junior League. Whitney was his name (it's a Southern, family name) and all the little girls liked him. For some reason, I always thought if I chased him and ran fast enough, Whitney would be mine. Who knows what I planned on doing once I got him, all I knew was I thought chasing after him would be enough to snag him.

I've since learned this is the least successful of all my dating strategies.

20 years later, I find myself caught up in both scenarios. For some reason I am stuck on a guy who continues to do anything but criticize and otherwise treat me with unkindness. You would think Ground Chuck's critical remarks and obstinant attitude would be enough for me to hit the highway, but no, a dumb heart is the slowest learner. I continue to make concessions and excuses for the guy, just hoping we'll turn a corner and he'll stop being the Man of Mystery he prides himself on being. Sometimes I catch myself considering having flowers sent to myself at work to keep him on his toes. It's amazing how jealousy can inspire action, isn't it.

At the same time, I have somehow reverted to my Playground days. I just won't give up on Ground Chuck, and continue to call him on occasion or make attempts to spur conversation with him. My heart just doesn't get it: It's not worth it, and there's plenty of other meat in the market to be had. Like I said, my heart is a slow learner. Hopefully I'll get it one of these days.

I've got to say one thing though: The minute Ground Chuck throws a glass jar at me, I'll deck him.

True Crimes, Cincinnati Style

There's something very breezy about cruising around in a car with a shattered window.

That's what I've come to realize after spending some time in the heart of the Queen City. A vandal/burglar decided to get up-close and personal with my rear, driver side door. The criminal smashed my vent window (which is what they call the little window in the door, not the one that rolls down. It's venting abilities matter not) right when I was revelling at a friend's birthday party.

One of my friends arrived late and had the misfortune of warning me about the incident.

This evil doer could be an anti Big Blue person as the window featured my University of Kentucky alumni association sticker. Thank goodness I have a big UK sticker on my back windshield, although I guess that could make my rear a moving target.

The kicker is, the bastard didn't even steal my stuff. They found the faceplate to my CD player in it's regular hiding place, but they opted not to take it, nor anything else in my car. I tend to believe they were hoping I had something good beneath a beach blanket I had in the back seat.

Sorry, sucker.

My dad says, "Kate. What does that mean when they don't want any of your stuff? It it all junk?"

I suppose so, Dad.

I got a couple cuts and scrapes trying to clean up the broken glass in my back seat, but it doesn't hurt nearly as much as the price tag to fix the glass. $135 bucks, right when I'm about to buy a plane ticket to Vegas.

Oh well. I'll just have to buckle down these next two weeks and steer clear of the shoe store.

Jelly Shoes and Burples

So I've been combing through my memories for the little nuggets I loved about the 80s.

All things jelly would have to be at the top of that list. Shoes, bracelets, it didn't matter. If it was day-glo and some kind of plastic, I definitely had it. Other favorite clothing options: Jams, stonewashed jeans, Guess jeans with the little ankle zippers and those plastic chain charm necklaces.

I also was a big fan of lots of 80s foods. Remember Burples? They were like the pioneer of all those portable beverages. Think accordion container filled with powder on the bottom. Add water, shake, and you had basically a hip version of Kool Aid. Grape was my favorite.

And how can you forget Capri Suns? Can't believe they're still around. My mom would never buy them for me because she said it was a waste of money and it was bad for me.

I also was a big fan of Koosh balls and Four Square. We had this teacher at my elementary school, Mr. Mirus. His Four Square rules became legendary around the Cincinnati area. I remember playing two square with my middle sister and having some knock-down-drag-outs over boundary lines and other nitpicky rules.

You should see the scars her dagger-like finger nails left behind on my arms.

Anyway. Check this site out if you feel like reliving the old days. Well, at least the days that aren't so bloody.

80s Week: Like, That's Totally Radical

So, I got sucked into VH1's I Love The 80's series yesterday. Perfect way to nurse a bit of a headache left over from the night before.

I was left with one question: Is Carrot Top a drag queen?

I ask because it appears he has the most meticulously trimmed eyebrows I've ever seen.

Seeing him on the show reminded me I have considered this possibility before.

Also, on the 1987 episode, they were talking about the vast works of the reknowned Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam.

I didn't realize she was the origin for the chorus of that Black Eyed Peas song "I wonder if I take you home, would you still be in love, baby?"

I wonder when someone will sample NKOTB's Hangin Tough.

Put on your Jams and jelly shoes, because all this week we'll be warping back to the decade of New Wave indulgence.

Friday Notes

Little nuggets from my noggin:

I just had wasabe/ginger ice cream. Much to the dismay of my coworkers, it actually wasn't bad. Who knew something cold could be spicy hot?

I have started heading back to the driving range. Once I get warmed up, I do well. My golfing partner has a penchant for reminding me I keep lifting my head up, but I insist that's a natural reaction. I hate bossy men. Okay, I don't really hate bossy men, just the way they make me feel sometimes. I guess it helps I find them so good looking.

Does anybody know anything about how people with previous medical conditions find medical insurance? If so, please email me. I'll fill you in on the details.

I just came into some money. Not anything huge, but three thousand bucks is pretty good to me. It will make a nice little down payment on a new-to-me car in the next few months (likely another Jetta or my old standby, a Saab 900). I was fully vested in a pension plan when I left my old station, and I've opted to cash it out instead of getting $130 a month when I'm old and off my rocker.

My tanlines are starting to fade, a reminder I'm not spending as much time outside as I'd like. That, or I'm avoiding my bathing suit.

Hef, Is That You?

So, I am pretty addicted to my Stat Counter.

Like lots of bloggers, I use it to keep track of just who visits my little mental playground. Sometimes I see random folks from places ranging from Houston to Iran stopping by (I feel like I should draw little burqas on my pictures) and other times I see people crashing the party through other bloggers who link to me.

I remember when somebody from the Virginia attorney general's office stopped by. He sent me an e-mail encouraging my little rants (God knows why). And then there was the nice guy from Vera Bradley who was so happy I had a link up that he sent me a cute bag (it's holding up beautifully).

Well, tonight I was totally bowled over when I noticed somebody from the hallowed halls of Playboy checked in.

Yes, as in that Playboy.

I don't know how they got here, because Stat Counter didn't provide a referral link, but whomever it was spent a whole 32 seconds looking at my blog likely while sitting in their Chicago office.

Now, I'm a bit surprised because I don't have any scandalous pictures (at least not any posted here), but I suppose my blog is a good glance at the inner workings of a chick's mind.

Smart, scattered, clever, sexy and yet all very self-depricating at the same time.

Maybe the mag needs to know a little bit about the, uh, inside of a woman.

Oh, and Hef? If you want me to post any of those pics, I've got an email address you can find on the blog.

Bitchy Roommate

Here's the perfect thing if you're on a diet. Though if you're anything like me, you'll find some way to knaw through the Euphori-Lock.

Oh, And By The Way

I've never had as much disdain for fireworks as I have these past two nights.

How does a working girl get some sleep before the Graveyard Shift when the neighborhood yahoos are setting the world on fire?

Just A Few Notes...

Good luck to my friend, the GOP Big Wig, who goes back to work today after 10 weeks of maternity leave. Remember my friend, the capitol will run without you, but your baby won't. You can always trade in the commute to be a SAHM.
----
There's nothing like the anticipation of knowing you're getting a package. I can't wait to have my meeting with the Man in Brown, who will be delivering my delicate deals.
----
I am simultaneously struggling with feelings of throwing in the towel in regards to the opposite sex, and the increasing ballsy-ness that has me approaching unfamiliar men with their drinks of choice, only to slink back onto the dance floor (yes, he came and sought me out. I got the digits, no I'm probably not going to call him).

I think arranged marriages are highly underrated. Too bad the Catholic faith did away with the concept a few years ago.
----
I am sick of paying for a chi-chi gym I never go to. I even have a damn locker with my name engraved in brass on it. I resolve to contemplate my motivation and promise to think about a solution that would find my ass on an elliptical trainer more frequently. Boy, that was a vague positioning statement.
----
I am finally seeing the fruits of my labor. The fruits being little tomato buds and my labor being the schlepping from my kitchen sink to my front porch to water the damn plants. I think I've got about six little 'maters going, hopefully I'll be up to my elbows in fresh salsa by August. I'm trying to help along a mint sprig transplant I brought from the family homestead in CT. So far, lots of wilty/dry leaves, but consistent watering appears to be an improvement from the initial neglect the poor plant suffered after said transplanting. We'll see about this one, I'm not quite boiling the simple syrup yet.
----
Honorary Big Sis, I see you, and I know you're out there. Our orbits have totally spun in different directions, I miss you! Let me know when you land in the big Nati and we'll have to make a date of some sort.
----
Getting ready for a day long canoe trip. Don't know how strenuous the water is, but it's only six miles (I'm used to 12). At least I can rest easy knowing the top half of me is very buoyant.

Stuffed Pig

from Friday's Feast

Appetizer
Where do you plan to go on vacation this year, or where would you want to go?
Well, I just got back from vacation, so I went "home" one last time. I will be going on vacation next month to Sin City. It's about time I do something that merits my praying the Rosary.

Soup
What color is your bedroom? If you could redecorate it, what would you change?
Boo hoo. Why is this post making me thing about home so much!! The color of my bedroom at home is about the color of azure. It's the beautiful blue the sky is on a great Spring day when there are those tremendous, puffy clouds overhead.

My bedroom in Cincinnati is noncommittal off-white.

Salad
Do you have a bumper sticker on your vehicle? What does it say?
My car has a bumper sticker on the back, it's one of those oval jobs with the letters MAD in the middle. People might think I'm really bitchy, but it's actually an homage to my hometown.

Main Course
What's the worst pain you've ever been in?
Wisdom tooth removal was pretty crappy. Mono was pretty bad too, although the painful part was the extreme exhaustion. But what a great weight loss program...

Dessert
Who is your favorite celebrity? What do they do that inspires you?
Hmm. I don't really have a favorite celebrity per se. I think Dennis Quaid is hot, so are Sheryl Crow and Angelina Jolie, and I'd have a blast spending the day with Robin Williams. I like it when celebrities are original and genuine. My bullshit meter pretty much goes off when someone's doing something for face time.