Entries from February 2013

not much has changed….

February 28, 2013


34 years later and you’re still wearing those shoes; still putting them on the wrong feet even.

you still insist on carrying a bag entirely too big for your person. and then moan and wail about your aching spine to whomever will listen. usually someone furry with a wildly, wagging tail and with the eyelash singeing breath of salmon and sweet potato. 

this is the last time you will have ever sported “bangs,” you started asking for “layers” even before you knew about santa.

and even when santa does come into the picture, he still won’t hold a candle to your dad. 

you’ll think your mother is the most beautiful woman in the world, and hate it as a little girl that you are not blue-eyed and blond like she is.

beets make you barf, and you’d prefer strawberry shortcake over chocolate pie.

 doing the wrong thing and disappointing others scares you more than monsters in the closet; getting into trouble gives you nightmares. 

people pleasing is your favorite sport.

early mornings are your peak hours. your inner bumblebee is its most blithe and zippy in the dark, pre-dawn hours. 

for every tear you shed there is a binate, multi-fold giggle-fest; because the sad is oftentimes HILARIOUS!

 you live and die for the dance party.

raise your fist if you’re pissed…..

February 27, 2013

~warning-explicit language post.

just when i think it’s safe to test my 3 months and counting, un-pedicured toes {a whole ‘nother blog post} in the shallow end of the piranha infested, twitch producing, medication inducing, turbulent waters that i call reading the news; cannibal cop sends me scurrying back into katie-land where everyone is sweet, cardigan-wearing, breaks into spontaneous dance, hugs it out, and eats vegetarian.


a forced news media hiatus was put into effect after the last tragic shooting which i’m sure wasn’t even the most recent, but at least in my mental rolodex it’s how the timeline runs.

the latest gunfire {where i grew up no less} had turned me nauseated for anything newsworthy. keep that shit out of my already insane-brain.


 a week just under my belt before yesterday’s morning shows drew me in like captain creepy’s appearance at the oscars. i had to keep watching!

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i’ll wait if you need to go rinse off. 

so this is the gist of cannibal cop: a new york city COP is discovered to have been plotting one of the most depraved, un-human kidnapping, raping and cannibalism crimes ever uncovered. the grotesque scheme reaches beyond let’s look at his effed up childhood and how he was bullied, because this sicko makes hannibal lector look like nana, the beloved st. bernard from disney’s peter pan.


the testimony reads worse than any david fincher movie i’ve ever seen.  i’m sure harvey weinstein has already optioned the rights to the story. {i’ve added the links for you to peruse if you want details, but i wish to not further narrate the depravity.}


it’s my fear that this sick-fuck will get off or have to serve only a couple of years. to hear his lawyer defend him sends me into screaming, punching the air with my fists fits.

already there’s the 50 shades of bullshit grey defense: new york daily news writer, denis hamill says that cannibal cop’s fantasy of killing, raping and baking over 100 women is really just the the “250th shade” of grey. hamill even seems to render fault on females in general for making such “s & m laced” {i hate to even call it a novel?} reads so popular. 

so apparently all you who are such christian grey fans, you should expect more misogynistic attitudes, plots, and fantasies whether carried out or not, coming your way.


am i the only one who hears a ‘she asked for it” here?

so men? denis hamill assumes you are SO neanderthal that all you need to see is the results of a new york times bestseller list to give you the go ahead to debase women? but that wouldn’t make any sense because if we were truly using what america is reading, you’d see that tina fey’s “bossypants” has been on the bestseller list even longer than “50 shades.”

should we women also expect emmy nominations, a $45 million net worth, and a hosting gig for next year’s golden globes with our best friend amy poehler? 


anyone else want to come back into katie-land with me?

raise your fist if you’re pissed.  

freak show party of one….

February 26, 2013


perhaps it’s this whole mercury in retrograde rumpus that’s making me all hands-in-the-air, strung high; my brain popcorn-like and zany. perhaps it’s the handful of vitamins i swallowed on saturday afternoon, that i SWEAR, 3 days later, i can STILL feel stuck in my throat, lodged in there, all 16, like some communal glob of recommended daily allowance of disgusting.

anybody have a remedy for this?


maybe it’s that spring is so close.

my favorite season. you know me, i’m a sucker for renewal, rebirth, and anything in a jordan almond pastel. 


 or conceivably i just realize how insane, finger-lickin’ good i truly have it.

yes. there’s been a lot of sad. but screw sad. there’s sad everywhere. your sad, my sad, it doesn’t make us special; it makes us related, allied.

it doesn’t stand us apart or give us the right to speed, punch, or slander.

it’s what we do with the sad that makes us beautiful and unique; turning it into fuel for glory and gratitude and HUMOR; these are the people i want to be. 


remember, diamonds emerge from coal put through the ringer.

and lately i’ve been noticing sparkle everywhere i look. 

it’s like the smiles my spin class throws my way even as their legs are falling off from monster gear changes, on the 800th interval of the morning, yet they still grind out the pedal strokes and holler the motivational “woo-hoo’s” in the face of a suffering body and unrelenting instructor.

i’m high all day from seeing that kind of elation despite the pain, that loyalty despite the discomfort, that hope despite the fear.


i love that. i geek out on it. 

it makes me do my happy dance. 

what makes you get freaky?

won’t you join my dance party?

tuesday happy to you m’loves. 

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