Allergies are funny

And by funny, I mean freaking scary.

Guess what I found out I was allergic to last night?

Aspirin.

Yeah, I know. Who the hell is allergic to aspirin?

Here's how it went down:

I came home from my haircut (super cute) with a headache (super painful).

Normally I'm a Motrin girl. But for some reason, I tried a different pain reliever. This particular brand is a client of mine, so I thought I'd give them a little holla at home and try them out.

Oh.
My.
God.

And hour after taking it, I was covered in HIVES. And by hives, I meant WELTS.

They were everywhere! Arms, back, chest, neck, face...even in my ears.

They were so itchy I wanted to rip my skin off. I was writhing around, scratching like a mofo.

Seriously. I looked like a FREAK.

And then I started to freak out. What if my throat closed and I stopped breathing?

I grabbed the package, which so warmly read:

Aspirin may cause a severe allergic reaction which may include:
• hives (check!)
• facial swelling (swelling?!)
• asthma (gasp!)
• shock (WHAT???)

After a call to the pharmacy, we determined it would be in my best interest to take Benadryl. STAT.

I was leery, but desperate. After taking Benadryl, I've been known to collapse into sleep while in the middle of a sentence. I was petrified that if I fell asleep now, I would never wake up.

After an hour, the hives began to calm down, as did yours truly.

I mean, there's got to be a better way to find out you're allergic to something rather than trial and error, no?

(At least my headache went away.)

Dear Food Network,

Hey, I took it like a (wo)man when I realized that you were taping the next season of The Next Food Network Star without me. I didn't stalk your offices or anything.

But after ripping away my dream of having a cooking show, did you have to go and rip off my blog and title your new show with Adam Gertler "Will Work For Food"?

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

However, having my own show would be pretty flattering, too.

Hugs,
KK

P.S. Call me!

Okay, I'll Say It

I don’t like the new judge on American Idol.

I totally understand why Kara DioGuardi is the new addition to the trio – she’s got an intense musical background, there’s a little more estrogen in the room, and she’s a new adversary for Simon.

But I’m not a fan.

There’s just something about white girls who do the finger snap and neck groove that bugs me.

And she’s mean. Purposefully.

That poor girl who tried out and wasn’t very good, who had written on her application that she was voted “Most Funny” in high school? Kara laughs after her audition and asks if it was a joke. And then she fake-backtracks and is all like, “What? Oh…you mean…wasn’t that…that wasn’t a joke? Oops.” Mean!

Now, please don't think I'm going to stop watching AI. No way!

The auditions are my favorite part of the show. Randy’s facial expressions alone make it all worthwhile. It cracks me up when he hides his face behind his papers.

As for the original three judges, it’s good to have them back.

Simon. Hey, he’s the guy you love to hate. Except I don’t hate him. I think he’s quite funny, albeit a tad nasty at times. (I will never forget when he told that contestant during auditions that he looked like a Bush Baby from the jungle. O.M.G.)

Paula. Hey, hey, Paula…are you on the wagon? Budget cuts include the Bacardi for your Coke cup? Paula is the most concise and lucid I’ve seen her in seasons. I’d almost venture to use the word “demure”. And I hate that word.

Randy. Seriously, you are one big dude, Dog. And I love when you sing along. And your funky red Sally Jesse Raphael glasses.

And, of course, Ryan Seacrest. LOVE him. He’s like a little doll; I just want to put him in my pocket.

As for who the American Idol will be? I have my picks already.

KK out!

Nothing spices up a cold January day like an Award!

Thank you to Tasha of Biology Gal, for bestowing upon yours truly the Honest Scrap Award!














This award requires me to share with my bloggy friends 10 honest things about myself.

So here goes...

1. I love to gamble.
   
2. I ate the same sandwich for 3 straight years in junior high: cheese and mustard. Once at the lunch table, I would add potato chips to the sandwich...delicious! Potato chips are also scrumptious on tuna sammies, too.
3. I have a graduate degree from Harvard. I don't tell people, though, because then they'd think I was a nerd. Or wealthy. Or lying.
   
4. I still have the blankie and stuffed animal I slept with as a child. This duo also attended college with me. And my first apartment. (Okay, my second, too. And third.)
5. I'm a control freak when it comes to cooking. I can't be in the kitchen when someone else is cooking without stirring a pot, adjusting the heat or peeking in the oven.
6. The clothes in my closet are arranged by color.
7. I've never gotten a speeding ticket.
8. I will always send an email or make a phone call. I never want to be known as the one who dropped the ball on a friendship.
9. I LOVED high school and would live it all over again if I could.
10. Everyday I dream of moving back to Boston.

I hope you all still love me in the morning.

What's a girl got to do to get a calendar around here???

Jeez.

((Goes without saying: I am very happy that I have a job. However, I’m pretty ticked I can’t get a freaking calendar.))

((And yes, I could go out and buy one. But now? It’s about principle.))

Every year my company passes out new desk calendars. This calendar is my lifeline. I use it for EVERYTHING: birthdays, social get-togethers, meetings, hours logged on client jobs, appointments, vacations, napkin.

But this year, for some reason, they didn't hand out calendars. So, feeling I might have been absent on calendar day, I went in search of one.

Detective KK is on the case!

LAST TUESDAY
(Our usual admin is out on maternity leave, so perhaps the MIA calendars were a result of that. So I decided to probe the temporary admin for the deets.)

ME: “Hey! You might not know anything about this, but every year they give us these cool desk calendars. And we’re already halfway into January and I haven’t seen any…you know anything about that?”

ADMIN SUB: “I don’t think we’re getting those calendars this year. The COO doesn’t want us to have them because they have the parent company name on them.”

Really? What the big deal? I mean, they own us.

ME: “Oh. Alrighty. So, are we getting different calendars? In place of those?”

ADMIN: “I don’t think so.”

What? No calendars??? What kind of company do I WORK for???

((breathe, KK, breathe))

ME: “Can I order one?”

ADMIN: “I’m waiting for clearance on a really big supply order. Once I get that we should be able to order them.”

I got news for her, by the time she gets clearance I’ll need to order a 2010 calendar.

LAST WEDNESDAY

ME: “I can’t believe we’re not getting calendars over here.”

COWORKER: “Why don’t you ask someone in the other building if there are any extras?”

Brilliant!

TUESDAY

To: Tech Girls 1 & 2
From: KK
Subject: Desk calendars

This isn’t a tech question, but you’re the only ones I know over there!

I don’t think we’re getting a shipment of the 2009 PARENT COMPANY desk calendars this year...any chance you’ve seen any floating around...maybe an extra one that can make its way to my desk over here???

No worries if you haven’t, just thought I’d check.

Thanks!

WEDNESDAY

To: KK
From: Tech Girl 1
Subject: Re: Desk calendars

Hi KK,

I will put one in interoffice for you.

I think there are some in the mail room.
Thanks!
Tech Girl 1


Woo hoo!

I should sharpen my pencils and get ready to start transferring birthdays and eyebrow appointments.

WEDNESDAY

To: KK
From: Tech Girl 2
Subject: Re: Desk calendars

I just found out that per the COO no one in your office is supposed to have the calendar PARENT COMPANY gives out every year.
That is what I was told. Sorry.

What EXACTLY do they think I’m going to DO with this calendar? I can’t have this calendar just sit on my desk? Do they think I’ll be pimping it out at clients? I'll get confused as to where I work because of the small company name engraving on the front?

What is so cryptic about this calendar???

((if you need me, I'll be at Staples))

Having trouble sleeping? Read this blog post!

I started out the day in a silly mood, which was only enhanced when I stumbled across the Stray Cats and 2 Live Crew on Sirius radio this morning (not on the same station).

As I am slowly coming off my 3-day-weekend high, the most I can muster up today for a post is a weekend recap. (Who said I didn’t love ya?) Concentration is at all all-time low for me today because I’d much rather be writing blog posts and reading your blog posts and updating my Facebook page. Instead of doing work.

You’d think with three whole days off I’d have some juicy nuggets to report.

Wrong.
(However, if you thought that I was procrastinating chipping away at the large pile of work on my desk due to lack of motivation, you’d be correct.)

Okay…I’ve kept you waiting long enough!

(drumroll…)

Friday Night

We went to one of our ever-exciting dinners with my uncle who’s visiting from California. These dinners usually consist of my uncle having WAY too many martinis, then complaining about my grandparents and then (happily) paying the bill.

Friday night he didn’t disappoint.

It was quite an evening. I had my mother complaining to my left (“This is pineapple juice, not grapefruit juice” and “What? Did they forget about us?”), and my uncle across from me, spitting vodka-soaked words at me (“Oh, puh-leeze, those people never appreciated me” and “Those two should consider themselves LUCKY that hey have a son like me!”).

Like I said, fun stuff.

Quote of the night:

UNCLE: “Today I deleted all the dead people out of your grandmother’s cell phone.”

Saturday

I did something that I never, ever allow myself to do on the weekend: nothing.

That’s right. I sat my ass down by the crackling fire, finished my book, snacked on cheese and crackers and took a nap. Pure bliss.

I redeemed myself by cooking a spectacular garlic and rosemary crusted Pork Rib Roast and roasted potato dinner for Mr. KK and his father, whom we were entertaining while my mother-in-law was out gallivanting with her friends.

Highlight of the night:

Dominating and causing the two men bankruptcy in a heart-pounding game of Boston Red Sox Monopoly.

It's nice when women rule the (fake game board) world.

Sunday

Woo hoo, more family time!

This time in the form of dinner at my parents’ house with all 3 grandparents (and, thankfully, no uncle to stir the pot of family stress).

I love being invited over to my mother’s house (read: being invited out so I don't have to slave away in my kitchen), and then spending the day in her kitchen, making dinner.

Only took four phone calls to nail down the directions for making the macaroni and cheese, all of which was waiting for me, unstarted, when I got there.

Priceless phone call moment:

MOM: “Will 3 slices of bread be enough?”
ME: “For what?”
MOM: “The topping for the macaroni and cheese.”
ME: “I don’t know. I don’t even know how much you’re making.”
MOM: “Well, make a guess then.”
ME: “Okay. No.”
MOM: “Why can’t you ever agree with me?”

Monday

I’m a huge fan of Diners, Drive Ins and Dives on the Food Network (a network I will NOT be on anytime soon, thank you very much), and I think Guy Fieri has a to-die-for job of eating his way around the globe. (Of course, I think I have trouble NOW fitting into my favorite jeans, can only imagine the issues I’d have eating at every greasy spoon from Maine to Montana) So whenever he features a place in Connecticut, it automatically makes it on our “Must Do Before We Die” list.

So we went for lunch at Shady Glen, a family-owned dairy store in Manchester, Connecticut. They’re known for their super awesome cheeseburgers, so that’s what we got. They use 4 pieces of cheese for every burger (healthy!), placing each square half on the burger and half on the grill, so that the four cheese ends get all toasty and crispy. And I even had room for a dish of their homemade ice cream – cookies and cream, my favorite.

And here I am.

Back at work.

And that's your exciting (boring) update.

((zzzzzz....))

Things You Don't Say Every Day

KK: "Um, I think Vito has a dead squirrel in his mouth."

To-Don't

Today is one of those days that my to-do list just keeps getting longer and longer.

I'm never crossing anything off!

GAH!

Just Another Reason Why I'm Weird

When it comes to material items, I’m not much of a saver.

I don’t have shoeboxes filled with pictures of old boyfriends, movie stubs or concert tickets. I can't produce the tchotchke I've collected on vacations. And I don’t keep clothes I haven’t worn for more than a season.

(Mr. KK, on the other hand, is a completely different story. But, considering on his 30th birthday his mother brought over every single one of his first birthday cards, as well as the party invitation that was sent out, I can’t really blame him. It’s in his genes.)

For me, I limit myself to saving only ridiculous things.

For example:

• My iPod space. Even though my iPod holds 5,000 songs, I only have 400 songs on it. And it’s not because I don’t like music. I can only put songs on there that I absolutely love. I can’t fathom “wasting” iPod space on mediocre songs. So I am “saving” my iPod space for – let’s be honest here – no apparent reason. I will never run out of space, but I can’t bring myself to download songs that are unworthy of my gigabytes.

• Facebook friends. So it was a HUGE hurdle for me to breakdown and actually JOIN Facebook. Now, I’m faced with a whole new dilemma: “friending” people. Once again, I am socially defunct when it comes to this, and I will only friend certain people. I’m having a hard time sending friend requests to people I haven’t spoke to in a long time. And while I know that this is the whole reason Facebook was invented (okay, one of the reasons), I am “saving” my friend space for people who are actually my friends, present tense. Why? Because I’m weird.

• Food. When it comes to eating, I will “save” my favorite thing on the place to eat last. This includes French fries, seafood in a pasta dish, or my ever-favorite pickle with a sandwich. And? I get screwed every time. Because I eat so much of the other stuff, by the I finally get to the “good stuff”, I’m full.

And when it comes to blogging, I have all these stories and ideas I want to blog about but – guess what? – I’m saving them.

So stay tuned!

Mom

Sunday morning, 8am

I call my mother. I know it's early, but I also know my mom – she's been up for hours.

MOM: "Hello?"

ME: "Hi, Mom. What's going on today?"

MOM: "I'm just sitting here having tea. Your father is getting ready to go outside and snowblow the driveway. I tell you, when the weather's like this, it's hard to want to go anywhere. Plus, the Giants game is on, and you know how your father is – he can't miss one second of the game. You'd think he part owned the team. So he'll be glued to TV all afternoon. And it's freezing out, I don't even want to leave the house today. Just stay inside where it's warm. Why, what's up?"

ME: "Nothing. I was just wondering if you guys wanted to come over today for dinner."

MOM: "Oooh! We'd LOVE to!"

Can You Hear Me Screaming?

Hey Everybody I Work With,

I'm making my NEW new year's resolution to not lose my shit all over your asses.

It would be in your best interests to NOT say any of these things to your copy department (aka, Yours Truly) today:

1. When I ask for feedback, please do NOT respond: "Be Clever!"
2. When I ask a question, please do NOT respond with: ((head nodding. vacant eyes))
3. When you're trying to compensate for your incompetence, please do NOT try to (miserably) get on my good side with : "I know it's frustrating."
   (Because really? You don't. You have NO idea how frustrating it is working with you.)
4. When you're being an asshat and trying to insert your two cents where there shouldn't be any change, please do NOT smile and say: "I don't think we're there yet."
5. When communicating a client's changes, please do NOT give the peptalk: "The changes are easy – just new copy!"

Coworkers: you are all on notice.

Adios, 2008

I’ve been a total blogging slacker lately, so if I even have any readers left: Happy New Year, guys!

I feel I’m not alone when asking the question: Where did 2008 go?

I mean, I had bronchitis (twice!), I ended the summer in the oppressive heat in Vegas and then BOOM! it was the holidays, I was drinking my weight in martinis and stuffing my face full of rugelach.

In true January-blogging fashion, I’m going to excite you with my resolutions (that I’ll never keep) for 2009.
(NOTE: I believe I’ve already broken at least one, if not two, of them.)
(DOUBLE NOTE: I tried to keep these realistic. I’m still going to make fun of people, and there’s no way I’m running a marathon.)

KK'S 2009 RESOLUTIONS

• Exercise more patience. Actually, this can be broken up into TWO resolutions:
1. Exercise
2. Have more patience.

• Be more organized. Not Sleeping-With-The-Enemy-canned-goods-and-kitchen-towels-organized. More like filing bills and receipts and not leaving them in a humongous pile on the filing cabinet. Or on the radiator. Or on the stairs.

• Spend more time doing things I love. Yes, this is a selfish resolution, but one I feel need to instill. For instance, I LOVE reading. But I never have time to read. Now, I will MAKE TIME to read. (Even if it means not doing other things, like laundry or leaving the house.)

• Try/create one new recipe a week. This week’s recipe: Italian Wedding Soup.

• (Re)start my novel. Check!

• Be a better blogger.

• Get paid to write. Not work stuff. Fun stuff.


THINGS KK WILL STILL DO IN 2009

• Be OCD when it comes to locking doors and cars. (My quote of the year: "Did you beep the car?")

• Want a new kitchen.

• Procrastinate when it comes to cleaning.

• Spend too much money at the grocery store.

• Complain about work.

• Complain when jeans don't fit, then eat 5 slices of pizza.

• Leave Goodwill bags in the trunk for 4 months.

• NOT blog every day, even if I want to. (I'm trying. I promise.)


Here's to a happy and healthy 2009!

The First "This Only Happens To Me" In 2009

Over the break we took an overnight getaway to one of the casinos.

It was New Year’s Day and the place was ridiculously crowded, so instead of fighting our way to play at tables with too-high minimums, we settled into one of the restaurant bars for drinks.

Strangers talk to us – me especially – so it was no surprise when a slightly odd, middle-aged man entered the bar and focused his attention on us.

I knew just from looking at him we were in trouble. He strutted into the bar, like he was too cool for school, and ordered a drink. He could only pay with a $100 bill, and since they bar had just opened, they couldn’t really make change. So they gave him $75 in ones, bundled in 3 neat packs of $25 each.

He had a Rodney Dangerfield-esk tick, cracking his neck and continually pulling down his shirtsleeves.

We were sitting about 10 feet from the bar, at a high table enjoying our drinks. I was indulging in my favorite hot and dirty martini, and Mr. KK was enjoying a nice Manhattan. Rodney Dangerfield saw us and I knew we were goners.

RD: “Where am I supposed to put all these ones? I don’t have enough pockets!”

I’m sure he was a nice enough guy, but there was just something about him that I didn’t like.

But, I was buzzed from my martini and in a good mood. Plus, I can't help talking to strangers.

ME: “Maybe you could put each bundle in a separate pocket? Spread the out?” I gave him a smile. Didn’t want to come off as a complete bitch. Not yet anyway.

I made the mistake of talking to him. Now he didn’t leave us alone.

He was channeling Johnny Cash, wearing a black velvet blazer, black button down shirt and black pants. I could tell he had money, but his clothes didn’t fit him correctly.

He confirmed my assumption by telling us about how much money he lost at the casino, betting hundreds of dollars a hand. Was he trying to impress us?

And then, the floodgates opened.

He wouldn’t shut up.

“This is my first year being separated from my wife…We were married for almost 20 years…We were even in therapy…Then she didn’t want to be married…I used to be a lot heavier…I’m back on the dating scene…”

He was talking so loudly that people at the bar were now staring at this guy…and the poor couple he had trapped with his incessant chatting.

But he wasn’t done.

“I’m living alone…But I don’t like eating alone…I forgot how to make out in a car…”

Jeesh, where was the couch for this dude? Keep up this depressing talk and they won’t be able to call it happy hour anymore.

We were just about finished with our drinks – thankfully – and planning our getaway.

I’m an excellent multi-tasker, so as Mr. KK was telling me we should get the check, I was also listening to our new friend talk to the bartender.

ME: “Gah! He’s telling the bartender he wants to buy us a drink! We’re trapped!”

And, sure enough, the bartender came up to our table. “This gentleman,” she laughed slightly at her own words, “would like to buy you another round.”

I look at Mr. Dangerfield and say in my best mock-gratitude tone: “No! You don’t have to do that!”

RD: “Yes, I insist. You people are very nice to listen to an old guy like me. Let me buy you a round of drinks.”

I knew arguing would get me nowhere, so we thanked him and the waitress brought over a second set of martinis. Ooh boy.

And here’s where it gets uncomfortable.

Mr. Dangerfield finished up his drink and inquires about our plans for later. Instincts kicking in, I’m immediately on the defensive.

MR. KK: “We don’t really have any plans.”

RD: “Really? You two seem nice enough. I’d love to have you two join me and my girlfriend for dinner next door.”

Um, excuse me?

ME: “Oh, that’s so nice of you.”
(Translation: “Hey, Crazy Man, I don’t want to eat with you!”)

We are finding no way out of this situation so we agree that we will meet him and his girlfriend for a cocktail. We are suckers.

Rodney Dangerfield shakes our hands and tells us he’ll see us soon. He packs up his stacks of singles and heads out.

Peace and quiet at last.

Or not.

There’s a bit of commotion and the bartender approaches our table. “Did he leave?” She asks. She doesn’t look happy.

ME: “I think so. He shook our hands and took his money. Why?”

BARTENDER: “Well, he never paid for the round of drinks he bought for you.”

Crap.

So not only have we agreed to have dinner with this check-stiffer, but now we’re stuck shelling out another $40 for drinks we didn’t necessarily want.

ME: “Oh.”

That’s about all I can manage. I’m two martinis in, and not thinking all that clearly. At these prices we only planned on paying for one round drinks and then heading out the casino where the drinks were free.

The bartender sighs and moves back behind the bar. “Don’t worry about it,” she mumbles.

Now we feel badly, not to mention coerced into purchasing drinks we had no intention of buying. “We’ll pay for them,” we offer, rather half-heartedly.

BARTENDER: “No, no. It’s not your fault. We’ll take care of it.”

And apparently by “take care of it”, they meant call over every person who was working in the restaurant, repeat the story and cause everyone to STARE at us. It also meant to talk super loudly, so everyone sitting at the bar enjoying drinks now knew that we were the two people finishing drinks that never got paid for.

MR. KK: “Well, this is super comfortable.”

ME: “Look! They had to call over the guys in suits. Now THEY’RE staring at us. What’s with the guys in the suits? They can’t cancel a drink order without them?”

Now there were five people crowded around the cash register, whispering and staring.

We left a very large tip for the waitress and ran out of there.

ME: “I guess we can cross this place off our list for dinner possibilities tonight.”

(NOTE: We did NOT meet Rodney and his girlfriend for dinner. In fact, we ran by their restaurant, holding my bag up so he wouldn't see our faces. Yes, we are immature.)