Actual Page In The Grocery Store Last Night

"Would the owner of a black Dodge caravan, license plate XXXXXX, please come to the parking lot – your car is moving!"

Things I Didn't Expect This Weekend

1. My uncle downing FOUR martinis at dinner, then proceeding to talk VERY LOUDLY telling stories screaming non-PC terms
(if I could have hidden under the table, I would have)

2. My friend giving birth to her second baby IN THE CAR ON THE WAY TO THE HOSPITAL
(my first thought: "Eew! What a mess!")
((my second thought: "We are totally driving the next time we go out with them."))

3. Two strange guys* sleeping at my house on Saturday night
(*Okay, they were my husband's coworkers. But they were from another office. And he's only met them, like, twice.)

4. To skip my exercise class, then be made an example of (via an email from the instructor) to her entire address book.
(Granted, she didn't use my name when instituting the new "if you miss a class you pay" policy, but THAT email came right after the one telling me that if I miss a class I have to pay)

Just The Facts, Ma'am

I work for a promotional marketing agency.

We have clients.

We are supposed to do everything possible to keep said clients happy.

Even when they are driving us crazy.

Even when they don’t know what they are talking about.

Even when they are making ridiculous requests.

We are supposed to smile and say, “No problem.”

But then, something like this happens, and you want to throw your ergonomically correct chair at them. Through the phone.

Here’s how it went down through emails. Which lead to a phone call. Which lead to more emails. Which lead to me losing my freaking mind*.

(sorry, incriminating details have been removed)

TO: KK
FROM: ACCOUNT PERSON
SUBJECT: SOURCES FOR COPY

Hi,

The client would like to know where we got our information for the tips we put in the piece.

Can you let me know?

Thanks!

(btw, I like this account person very much. Unfortunately, she’s stuck in the middle between the ridiculous client and my sanity)

TO: ACCOUNT PERSON
FROM: KK
RE: SOURCES FOR COPY

Sure.

That copy came from their website.

Thanks!

TO: KK
FROM: ACCOUNT PERSON
RE: SOURCES FOR COPY

The client said we still need to know where the info came from.

She’d like you to look into it.

This email leads to a phone call.

ME: “Hey, don’t they consider their website a reliable source?”

AP: “I guess not. We need to find out where they got their information.”

Oh, sure. I’ll just tap into my inner mind reading skills.

ME: “Don’t they have that information on file somewhere? How the hell am I going to find where they got their information for their website? I mean, really?”

Again: really?

ME: “What if it was a study done 10 years ago, before everything was on the internet and it only exists as a printed document in some old guy’s desk?”

AP: “I don’t know. I told them we’d look.”

The only thing I want to be looking for is a new job.

ME: “Fine. I just can’t believe that I have to tell THEM where they got information for their website. It’s ludicrous.”

Back to email.

TO: ACCOUNT PERSON
FROM: KK
SUBJECT: FUN FACTS

Okay, found a new fact and the source is WebMD.com

Woo hoo!

TO: KK
FROM: ACCOUNT PERSON
RE: FUN FACTS

Hey,

Don’t shoot the messenger, but checked with client and she said that WebMD isn’t a credible source, we need to know where THEY got their information.

Sorry.

WTF?

I’m starting to think I’m getting Punk’d.

TO: KK
FROM: ACCOUNT PERSON
RE: FUN FACTS

Just an FYI, they said if we can’t find facts with reliable sources then we can just leave them out.

Oh, no! I don’t THINK so!

I’ve dedicated over two months to this stupid job.

We’re NOT. Getting. Rid. Of. The. Facts.

TO: ACCOUNT PERSON
FROM: KK
SUBJECT: Factual Healing

Here are the latest facts.

Found on WebMD.

Who apparently got them from the New England Journal of Medicine. Who, I think, got them straight from The Lord himself.

I have hard copies if you need them.

And a urine sample.

*Source: kk’s fried brain

I'd Like To Thank The Academy...

And Fermented Fur for bestowing upon my little old blog the Brillante Award – thanks so much!

My turn to pass it on!

I bestow this award on the following blogs:

The Sorority
A Little Blog About Nothing
*Why, Hello Darling*
Jacks, Yurman And Bobbi Brown
My Friends Are Sluts
The TwentySomething Reality
Waiting For My Real Life To Begin
Sweatpantsmom


Happy reading...pass it on!

Have You Heard About Dumpster Muffin?

You haven’t?

Well, she’s all over the TV in California. She is the TOP STORY on the evening news out there.

Don’t feel badly, I hadn’t heard of her either. But we have some family visiting from California, and the other night when they were at our house, she came up in conversation.
(Of course they misnamed her "Meadow Muffin" when they were retelling the story – a name that is equally hilarious.)

Dumpster Muffin is a protester who has been living in a tree for over 18 months in Berkeley. Apparently she, and other protesters, are angry that plans for a new sports training center call for clearing a grove of oak trees.

Ms. Muffin et al are outraged, so they’ve been living in the trees so that the university can’t tear them down.

Ridiculous, right?

Oh, but the story get better.

First off, they’ve been living in the trees for 18 months. Obvious questions aside (which I will get to later), who the hell has 18 months of their life to dedicate to sitting in a tree 24 hours a day?

EIGHTEEN MONTHS.

That would mean they've been in the trees since late 2006. (which, if you think about it, seems like EONS ago, doesn’t it???)

Okay, now onto the immediate questions:

“How do they eat?” you may be wondering.

Well, the college is feeding them. Yep, that’s right. The college can’t imagine that these tree sitters would go hungry, so they are sending up food and water.
(There might be an answer here when students wonder why tuition has gone up for the Fall.)

“How do they go to the bathroom?” you may be asking yourself.

Well, they are going in the trees, somehow.

(If you’re also wondering “What do they do with it when they are done?” I have an answer for that, too: when people get too close to their trees on the ground, or try to climb up to them, they throw their feces at them. Lovely.)

Dumpster Muffin is their leader.

Apparently the college just doesn’t know what to do to get them out of the trees.

My solution: stop feeding them and giving them water. That way they’ll either:
a. come down when they’re so hungry they can’t stand it anymore or
b. just fall out when they die of hunger.

Simple enough, right?

(Hey, they are CHOOSING to be in the trees. They don’t have to stay there. They WANT to be there. IMHO, it is NOT the college’s responsibility to give them food and water. Hey, if they want to be in those trees so badly, then they should’ve had a plan on how they were going to eat. They should’ve thought it through a little more. Come up with a plan. That’s how the world works, people.)

So, in the midst of high gas and oil prices, violence and war, the Berkeley Tree Sitters are the top story out on the west coast.

I think the funniest thing from this whole ridiculous story, is the name “Dumpster Muffin”.

I guess if you’re going to be a professional protester (who else has 18 months on their hands?), then you need a cool protester name.

My protester name would be “Basket Case”.

What would YOURS be?

Day Of Fun With Mom

Let’s talk about my beach outing with my mother.

I know I haven’t posted about my mom recently, but that doesn’t mean our endless bickering and ridiculous conversations have stopped.

Just the opposite, really.

(FYI, I'm an only child and my mother and I are both Aries. Sometimes, the situations can get tense.)

Setting: Friday afternoon, at work, on the phone with Mom.

ME: “Are you going to beach this weekend? I’d like to go. It’s going to be hot.”

MOM: “Yes. But I’m going early because I have to leave early for that party.”

ME: “Isn’t the party at 5pm?”

MOM: “Yes.”

Um, how much time do you need to get ready?

MOM: “I’d like to get to the beach BY 10:30.” She stresses this last part. Twice.

ME: “Okay. I have Grandma’s Corningware dish that I’m going to give you to give back to her.”

My Grandmother lives 1 minute from my mother. My mother has to drive by her apartment building in order to get home from anywhere.

MOM: “Does it have to be today?”

ME: “Yes. She needs it so she can put the eggplant that she's making us in it.”

MOM: “Oh.”

(Pause)

MOM: “Did you ask her to make your eggplant?”

What? Why does it matter if I asked her to make eggplant or not? (I didn’t, btw. For some reason, she just WANTS to make us eggplant.)

ME: “No, I didn’t ask her. She’s just making it. So, are you coming to get me?”

MOM: “I could just meet you there.”

ME: “Why on earth would we take separate cars? To the same place?? Don’t you know we’re in a gas crisis???”

Silence.

ME: “Why don’t you head my way and pick me up.”

Like we do every other time we go to the beach. Or shopping. Or to dinner.

My mother, god love her, is an AWFUL driver. She just doesn’t pay attention because she’s so busy talking (and gesturing with her hands – to me, not to other drivers).

Gas, brake. Gas, brake. Gas, brake.

A non-family member would probably dive out of the car the first chance they got. So anytime we go somewhere, even if it’s in her car, I will drive.


MOM: “I live closer to the highway.”

I am slowly losing my patience. Here’s why:

If Mom picks me up, we will hop on the highway at exit 6, then hop on 95 to the beach. If I pick HER up, even though she lives a little closer to the highway, we have to get on all the way back at exit 9. So I’m basically driving from exit 6 to exit 9 to pick her up, then driving back past exit 6 again.

ME: “Can you just please come and pick me up like normal?”

Jeesh.

Setting: Saturday morning, driving Mom’s car to the beach.

We are chatting about something. (I can’t remember what. Probably my mother complaining about my father being retired and not doing anything all day besides golfing, reading the paper and watching TV. Sounds like a good life to me.)

So up ahead about two house lengths I see the traffic light is turning yellow. I brake so that we don’t drive through a red light.

NOTE:

There is no one in front of us.

There is no one behind us.

There is no one coming at us.

I didn’t slam on the brakes (I was going 40mph and need to stop about 40 feet ahead.)

As the car comes to a halt, my mother THROWS HERSELF towards the dashboard.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Her hands are against the dashboard and she's sitting forward in her seat.

ME: “Um, was that necessary?”

MOM: “It was just a reflex. Normally I try to grab the handle on the door.”

Mom also “brakes” from the passenger seat.

The setting: At the beach with mom

Surprisingly there’s a beautiful breeze at the beach, making the 90 degree temperature a little more bearable.

Mom is completely absorbed in her latest Fabio romance. I slip in my earphones and hit PLAY on my iPod. My super cool beach music mix begins. First up, “Alcohol” by the Barenaked Ladies.
(NOTE: this band’s website is bnlmusic.com. I’m just telling you so that you don’t have to Google “barenaked ladies” at work and get triple X-rated websites show up on your computer.)
((You’re welcome.))

The first chorus is just beginning when Mom starts talking to me.

I take out my earphone and look over at her.

ME: “What? I didn’t hear you.”

MOM: “Oh, I didn’t know you’re listening to music. It’s nothing. Nevermind.”

Back to BNL. They segue into Sheryl Crow.

(I heart listening to music on the beach!)

MOM: “Right?”

Earphones out again.

ME: “Huh?”

MOM: “Tonight. At the party. They will probably open gifts when we’re there, right?”

KK’s Law: Even if my mother is reading quietly, the minute I start listening to my iPod, she will start talking to me.

ME: “If it’s a shower, then yes, I would think so.”

Mom goes back to reading.

I go back to Blink 182.

MOM: “So...”

Earphones. Off. Again.

ME: “Yes?” Through clenched teeth.

MOM: “What are you listening to?”

AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!

Make It Work!

Hooray!

Project Runway is BACK!

It hasn't even been that long, but it was so nice to see Heidi and Tim, back together again.
(I heart Tim Gunn)

And what an interesting group of designers we have this season!

Um, how COOL was Kelli's vacuum cleaner bag dress? She totally rocked that challenge.

(BTW all you designers who used tablecloths? Come on! This is Project Runway, not a 5th grade school play! Where's your imagination? Kudos to Daniel for his Solo plastic cups dress – trés cool)

Can't wait to see what happens next week!

Auf wiedersehen!

There's Being Prepared, And Then There's This

Today a guy was walking his dog on the highway.

Well, to clarify, he wasn't actually walking his dog. It appeared he ran out of gas (my first clue: the red plastic gas container he was carrying) and didn’t want to leave his dog in the car, so he leashed up Fido to walk to the closest exit.

Now, I’ve never run out of gas (just one close call with my best friend in high school who would test how long she could drive on fumes). But, if I WERE to ever run out of gas (um, I wouldn't, but just go with it), I know for a fact that I would not have one of those red plastic gas containers. It seems to me, if you have one of those gas containers in your car, you:

A. Have run out of gas before, thus keeping the container in your car “just in case”.
(Question: why isn’t ‘Put gas in the car’ your “just in case” plan?)
B. Have a lawn mowing business

I didn’t see any lawnmowers or grass stains, so I’m guessing that it’s a common occurrence that this young man runs out of gas.

He is PREPARED to run out of gas. It’s like his car stalls on the highway and he’s all, “Hey, Fido, looks like we ran out of gas again. What are the chances? I’ll grab the container, you grab your leash.”

I’m all about being prepared for things, but it’s usually things over which you have no control. Such as, “Hey, I think I’ll bring my umbrella JUST IN CASE it rains.” Or “Let’s have extra food at the party JUST IN CASE a few extra people show up.” Never, not once, EVER have I said to myself, Vito, anyone, “Let’s pack a portable, plastic gas container in the trunk JUST IN CASE we want to ignore the little gas light or feel like driving by the gazillion gas stations around, and we run out of gas.”

That's what I'm thinking as this idiot walks towards me (he was smart enough to keep his pup on the inside of the highway, thankfully). I thought that was the worst part.

Wrong.

I finally drive by this dude’s car. The term “wreck” would be a compliment.

Let me tell you, he’s going to need to bring back more than some gas to get this car up and running. Perhaps on the way he could pick up:

• a new bumper
• a front headlight
• something to fix the side of the car that looks like it was attacked by a can-opener
• a front grill
• two hubcaps
• a new muffler
• an understanding that rust doesn’t count as paint

Or he could pick up a gas card.

Or new car.

Cutest. Puppy. Ever.

(Alt. title: Reason #415 Why I Would Make An Awful Mother)

Check out Vito in his car seat!



Speaking of this super-cute puppy, yesterday I thought it would be a great idea to give him and his cousin Dino some Frosty Paws ice cream for dessert. (Who doesn't love ice cream on a warm summer day?)

So there I am, thinking I'm being the Best Mommy In The World, giving the pups a treat.

Wrong.

Before I even put the dishes down, Vito's nose is in the bowl.

All hell breaks loose.

It's like these dogs haven't eaten in days. Dino, the slower eater (usually), is so afraid that Vito is going to try and take his ice cream, puts the whole thing in his mouth and starts wandering around the house, dripping ice cream everywhere. (Um, is it wrong to be thinking at the time, "glad this isn't MY house???")

Vito, needing to eat everything in 3.4 seconds (sans chewing), puts the entire ice in his mouth and tries to chew the frozen treat. Finally he gives up and tries to swallow it, where it gets stuck in his throat. So now he's semi-choking, semi-trying to get it back in his mouth to chew. FINALLY, one Mommy heart-attack later, the ice cream goes down.

We scoot Dino onto the deck, where he eats the entire piece of ice cream, walks ten feet, then throws the entire thing up.

Right.

So much for being a good Mommy.

(Hey! I am available for babysitting! Cheap rates!)

Move Over, Oprah!

Here are 10 of MY Favorite Things this summer:

1. Essie Nail Polish In Secret Stash – this is the perfect summer pedicure color.
2. Hanky Panky Original Thongs – Best. Underwear. Ever. No VPLs in your favorite white pants!
3. Old Navy Lounge Capri Pants – my alternative to shorts, I wear them all weekend long.
4. MICHAEL Michael Kors Tabitha Thong Sandal – bought these in silver on a whim, and now I can’t take them off of my feet. They go with EVERYTHING.
5. Snoozer Lookout Dog Car Seat – the best way to scoot around town, windows down, with Vito.
6. Herbal Essences None Of Your Frizzness Shampoo and Conditioner – humidity and my hair do NOT mix well. This helps.
7. Bulgari BLV – yeah, it’s been around for a while. But it’s the perfect light, fresh fragrance for warm weather.
8. Banana Boat Sport Stick SPF 30 – the perfect size to easily roll over lips and eyelids and protect them from the sun.
   
9. “Drinky Poo” capri pajamas set by Be As You Are – soft, lightweight cotton, comfy on cool summer nights.
10. Turkey Hill Light Moose Tracks® Ice Cream – a perfect way to end every summer night. (and it’s low in calories and fat!)

SO Unlike Me

Usually, I can't shut up.

But as I am sadly writing a eulogy for my grandmother-in-law, I am FREAKING OUT.

Because I can't stop imagining standing on the altar at the funeral, and opening my mouth, and having NO WORDS COME OUT.

(like, losing-sleep freaking out)

BTW

I made a kick-ass mix for the beach this weekend – can't WAIT to be relaxing, toes in the sand listening to THIS:

(the playlist is a lot longer, these are just some highlights)

Alcohol by Barenaked Ladies
American Girl by Tom Petty
Bad Girls by Donna Summer
Friday I'm In Love by The Cure
Glamorous by Fergie
Heat Of The Moment by Asia
Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani
Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down
Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leopard
Rump Shaker by Wreckx-N-Effect
Santaria by Sublime
Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson
SOS by Rihanna
Starry Eyed Surprise by Foolish Fame
Yeah! by Usher

(NOT looking forward to putting on the bathing suit, tho!)

Four Whole Days Of Nuthin'

Hey, it’s 4th of July weekend!

(I’m having a slightly hard time accepting this because I don’t even know where June went. I mean, I know it happened, because it’s summer and like a million degrees out with 100% humidity, but wasn’t it just Memorial Day???)

My company is kind enough to give us both Thursday AND Friday off to celebrate this year.
(Does this make up for all those nights I’m at work until midnight? Not really.)

So I have 4 whole days to not be at work on the horizon.

What's a girl to do?

Because most of our friends don't live nearby, unless we do lots of traveling, long weekends can be, well…long.

Unless I plan a million things for (my) entertainment.

I'm an antsy girl. I can’t sit on the couch in front of the TV on a Saturday afternoon (especially if it’s nice out!) because I feel like I should be doing something. (Sitting in front of the TV every night after dinner, however, is totally acceptable)

I don’t want to ever find myself saying, “I’m bored!” over the next four days.
(That's not to say I won't be thinking it. Hey, I'm a tough crowd.)

So here’s my laundry list of things that I would like to do this weekend:

• See some fireworks
(NOTE: I’m not a fan of fireworks. But I feel like I HAVE to see them because that’s what you do this time of year. And I don’t mind watching them from REALLY far away, but when people are lighting them off on the street or close enough that I can smell the match? That’s way TOO CLOSE. It scares the crap out of me.)

• Eat a lobster roll
(Mixed with warm butter on hot dog bun – yum!) ((Sorry, mayo, I still love you!))

• Go to the beach
(First time this year! By the looks of my pasty white skin you'd think it was October!)

• Sit by a pool
(With a book. And a margarita.)

• Have my second (and last!) hot dog of the year
(Yes, I’m weird.)

• Exercise
(This is totally happening on Friday morning at 8:30am. I swear.)

• Take Vito for long walks
(aka: try to win back his love after we leave him sad and lonely every day to go off to work.)

• Hang stuff on the walls
(Figured the stuff will look much better on the walls than on the coffee table, radiator and bookshelf)

• Finish one of the books I’ve started
(REALITY: buy 3 new books. I have an addiction. I need help.)

• Hit the mall
(Only if it rains. Or is cloudy. Or dark.)

• See a movie
(Only if it rains. Or is unbearably hot in my house.)

• Nap
(Only if it rains. Kidding!)

Hmm...four days might not be enough.

I think I might need a whole week off!

Let's Call Them 'Quirks'

I think everyone has a teensy bit of OCD in them.

(I’m talking minor silly OCD tendencies, not full-blown Jack Nicholson in ‘As Good As It Gets’)

For example, my mother has to turn all the lights and electricity off, the minute you leave a room. Growing up I would be watching TV, get up to go to the bathroom, and come back and the room would be completely dark and silent.

A few years ago I worked with a girl who would check her alarm 47 times before she could peacefully drift off to sleep.

And I love my favorite house flipper Jeff Lewis on BRAVO, who will move a planter a quarter of an inch in every direction for twenty minutes.

I am not above admitting that I have a FEW things that make me a little bit…quirky.

My Own Little OCD

• Locked doors.
I am a FREAK when it comes to locking doors. I have been known on many occasions to get up out of bed to double-check to make sure the house is secure.
Number of times this happens a week: 3

• The car alarm.
I will beep the car two or three times after getting out. (You know, in case the first one didn’t take?) ((I have also been known to creep out of bed and point my keys out the upstairs hallway window at 3am…just to be sure))

• The grocery store.
Two things here:
One, I have to make my list out in the order the items appear in the store (Ridiculous, right?).
Two, I must unload my cart and place my grocery items on the conveyor belt in the order in which I’d like them bagged.
Number of times nothing is bagged how I like: every time

• Magazines.
Okay, this one is a little strange/weak, but I’m not a fan when you read one of my magazines before I do.
EXTRA ANNOYING: when you read my new magazine TO me.

• Milk dates.
(I don’t think this qualifies as OCD, but you can definitely put it in the category of ‘things that make kk slightly…eccentric’) I obsess over the date stamp on milk. If milk’s Sell By date is today, I might drink it. If it’s dated yesterday, forget it.

I KNOW I’m not the only one with these – um, idiosyncrasies.

What are YOUR “healthy obsessions”???