move over, Joan Rivers. Here's KK's guide to Oscars fashion.

(Wait, this show was about movies???)

 "My upper thigh is better than YOUR upper thigh, Jen."

Also, is she in the running for the lead as the universe's palest vampire?

Lovely. 

Except for her hair. What's up with her hair?

LOVE! LOVE! LOVE!

THIS is how you do the Oscars, people.

 Nip slip city.

O-VER-RA-TED! 

(clap, clap, clap clap clap!)

Fabulous movie, fabulous gown.

Simple and sophisticated.

 Scarlet O'Hara called, she wants her prom dress back.

Amazing color. Fabulous fit. 

But what's up with that smile? 

"Oh, is it the Oscars already? What should I wear? 

Oh, I'll just grab the living room drapes and cinch them with a pin."

 After a few years of bad dresses and her Black Swan phase, Natalie gets it right.

 Katie Perry called. She wants her look back.

 G, I love ya. I feel for ya. You look beautiful.

But I'm thinking the accessory you should have carried last night was a sandwich.

Can someone please tell me how men get on the 'Best Dressed' list?

Do they not all just wear a tuxedo? (And black tuxedos at that.) 

Wait. This isn't Rita Wilson?

JFK-->LAX

I don’t want you to think crazy shit only happens to me at home.

Of course not.

Let’s review the fun facts of my business trip thus far.

I’m traveling on Valentine’s Day.

I’m spending 48 hours in LA. 14 of those hours are travel time.

My personal little JetBlue TV (my saving grace for this long flight; 6 whole hours of KK time with movies, The Food Network and BRAVO) stopped working an hour into the flight. The minute we landed, however, the TV popped back on.

During the flight, I somehow still had the TV audio. So I did what any resourceful girl would do. I found the channel that my non-English speaking neighbor was watching and tuned in. So for an hour I slyly leaned left and watched ‘Two And A Half Men’ re-runs (painful).

Then, she fell asleep. And ‘Star Trek The Movie’ started, and I began having crazy thoughts like: ‘can I get away with changing the channel on her TV without her noticing?’ I mean, Star Trek??

Not to mention the businessman sitting in the aisle seat. He had a perfectly fine TV that he didn’t watch one minute of the flight! What a waste!

The car rental counter proved even more fun. After waiting in line for a half hour, I was given my car – the last car in the last row of the big dark lot. I arrive to spot 956, which – of course- was empty. No car.

I trudge back inside to customer service. Twenty more minutes. A replacement car. Finally.

Cut to the hotel – which is in Marina Del Rey on the water and very nice. I’m up at the ungodly hour of 4:13am (7:13am to me!) when the power goes out.

Pitch black.

No air.

No lights.

No way to shower or do my hair.

((sigh))

gym diaries.

I've gotten used to the old, skinny ladies who walk around naked with their flappy skin and saggy asses. How they will turn to you, and look you in the eye and say, "MY! How do you walk in those shoes?"

I've even accepted the fact that while naked, they like to prop one leg up on the bench to apply cream to every nook and cranny God gave them.

And yes, I've come to terms that they will sit their bare asses on the dirty public locker room bench to put on their socks or to rest.

I thought I had seen it all.

Until Friday.

I was innocently applying my make-up, surrounded by women blow-drying their hair or putting on their faces.

Then I saw her.

A girl – whose age I can only describe as 27 from the neck down and 45 from the chin up - was getting ready directly behind me, so I could see her every move in my mirror.

She was applying her make-up wearing a lace thong, had her wet hair wrapped in a towel, and was wearing a black parka.

A parka.

Putting on her make-up.

It was long enough to just cover her tanned cheeks.

And when she started blow-drying her hair, naturally she got hot, so she took the parka off.

And the only thing she was wearing under her parka were nipples.

As soon as she unzipped the jacket her huge jugs sprang free, as if they were saying, "Helllllooo! I'm here! And I'm cold!"

What followed was lots of hair flipping and tit swinging.

Oh, did I mention that all the while, next to her on the counter, was her bra. Just staring at her. She could have just reached over and put.it.on. And prevented me from almost poking my eye out with my mascara wand.

why old people rock.

I'm a lucky girl - I still have 3 living grandparents.

And they're neighbors in the same building. And they go everywhere together. My grandmothers go to the hairdresser together every Friday. Then McDonald's for coffee and to share a filet-o-fish sandwich.

It's just too cute for words.

One grandmother is 88.

One grandmother is 91.

And my grandfather is 92.

What can I say, I have good genes.

And while I love that they are still around and I can see them every Sunday, they are all ridiculously hard to buy gifts for.

What DO you buy the person who has been collecting shit for 9 decades?

So each year for Christmas, Mr. KK and I give them the same gift: a trip to the casino.

Sounds silly, but these three musketeers look forward to this trip all year. Sure, they go on their bus trips each month, but this trip is their favorite: because they don't have a time limit and we take them for a nice dinner on the way home.

Oh, and they get to spend quality time with us.

My grandparents aren't the only ones who look forward to these trips. Mr. KK and I love it. We get to spend the whole day with them - and listen to their stories about who wouldn't share their cream puffs at bingo, the man who still has his wife dress him and how they won't attend the monthly birthday celebrations because the pizza is just horrible.

The best part of the trip is the car ride, when the three of them usually chat in the back.

This is my favorite conversation from the day:

GRAM: "I finished that book you gave me."

GRAMPS: "The Western one? Did you like it?"

GRAM: "Yes. But I skipped all the pages with the lovemaking."

THIS is why I need to post stories about my mother on this blog.

setting: Saturday night. Dinner at my parents house.

attendees: the KKs, my parents, Mr. KK's parents, and Mr. KK's aunt and uncle.

We just sat down to dinner, and were passing plates around and filling them with stuffed pork roast, garlic mashed potatoes and artichoke casserole.

We were joking with Mr. KK's uncle, who doesn't like it when his food touches on the plate.

And then my mother said, "Well, maybe we should get you a separated dick."

((awkward silence))

And then, bursts of laughter. We just couldn't.help.ourselves.

"Dish!" my mom cries. "I meant separated dish!"

Too late.

the secret to a happy marriage.

Mr. KK and I have found the key to marital bliss.

And I don't mean 'his and hers' sinks.

We discovered Command Picture Hanging Strips.

Go ahead. Laugh.

We do MANY home improvement projects together. We just renovated an entire house without killing each other.

We put up a cork backsplash.

We painted 8 rooms, and a gazillion feet of trim.

We laid a tile floor.

We're quite a team.

But when it comes to hanging stuff on the walls and actually making our house look lived in? Well, that's another story.

We've both blocked out the memories of decorating the walls in our last house. It was a beautiful 1930 Colonial with plaster walls. Have you ever tried to hang something in a plaster wall? You can't use nails. You need screws and plastic anchors and a broom to sweep the floor when a three-inch chunk of wall smashes onto the floor. And if you make a mistake? Oh, the horror! Then you have a series of holes in the plaster. As I said, we've blocked out most of those nights, having barely survived.

The walls in the new house are made of sheet rock.

But even then, the thought of us tackling the job of hanging items and putting holes in all the walls simply terrified me. We certainly didn't need a night of swearing and frustration, and the possible tossing of tools.

So when we saw these Command saviors in the store, we just had to try them.

We've used the hooks before all around our house - for hangers in my closet, to hold towels on the back of the bathroom door, and to secure dish towels in the kitchen cabinets.

We took a chance and hung three picture frames in our bedroom - in a straight line and symmetrical. Had we been using nails and screws, this job might have taken us hours and put us over the edge.

But with these little miracle workers, we were done in 10 minutes. So we tackled some frames in the hallway. 5 minutes. Then we put 2 pictures up in our bathroom. 7 minutes.

And the best part?

We didn't kill each other.

And the house looks great.

west coast woes.

I'm traveling for work.

I'm on the West Coast for the week, attending client meetings and brand immersions. And missing Mr. KK and Vito.

But, the bright side, is that in-between meetings (which are inconveniently planned for Monday and Thursday, making it necessary that I stay for the WHOLE week), I'm visiting with Mr. KK's family, whom we don't see very often. Oh, and I'm saving a shit load of money on hotel expenses while I'm at it. (You're welcome, Agency X).

Oh, did I mention I was sick? Yep. Clogged ears. Tunnel hearing. Mucus. (yes, I went there.)

And I get up at 3:30am because my internal clock is on 'east coast' time. Which, to my body, is really 6:30am. So technically, I'm sleeping in.

Yesterday, though, I got a sweet little taste of home while riding the BART (the Bay Area's version of the subway. Except it's clean. And easy to navigate. And the enunciate each stop. And clean.). I hopped on to heard to Mr. KK's family house, which was 6 stops away.

There's a saying that goes something like this, "If you don't like the weather in New England, wait a minute."

I rode that rain for 20 minutes and witnessed the following weather:

When I got on: overcast, but bright

Stop 1: cloudy

Stop 2: clouds and wind

Stop 3: pouring rain

Stop 4: overcast

Stop 5: misting

Stop 6: bright and almost sunny

And the best part is, everyone who knows I'm here is asking, "how's sunny california??"

It seems California is confused and having an identity issue.