You saw that title and got excited, didn’t you? You were about to accuse me of holding out on you, weren’t you? Never fear, once again, I’m not talking about a man. Only this time, I’m also not talking about ice cream or an actor. No, this time, I’m talking about Netflix, and I think this could be “the one”.
Unlike the rest of the country, I had never used Netflix before last month. I’m an instant gratification kind of girl, and waiting a day or two to see a movie sounded like a bad plan. I know you can download from Netflix now, but I don’t love watching movies on my computer, and I don’t yet have the hook-up to transfer it to a TV. So, I had set my mind against Netflix. Picture me as Veruca Salt singing “I Want It Now” from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (by the way, you can get that song as a ringtone, which cracks me up).
But after I offered to sign up for my free two week trial to help my friends get “Pool Party” orders (order now, order often), I have fallen in love. Right now it is the perfect relationship. It doesn’t bug me when I’ve got more important things to do (ie television, movies, sleeping and the aforementioned ice cream eating). It’s always a little bit of a surprise when it shows up in my mailbox. Its sole purpose in life is to satisfy my wish list. Seriously, I give it a list, and click a button to make it so. And really, don’t more things in life need a make-it-so button?
I haven’t been this excited since Brad brought my groceries to my door after I ordered through webvan.com.
What’s next on my queue? The entire Square Pegs series on DVD! That’s right, possibly one of the most awesome and inspiring television shows of the early 1980s is now available on DVD. Let’s just say I identified with the feeling of not quite fitting in with the crowd as a youngster. Oh, hell, I still feel that way as an oldster. Plus, I’m pretty sure I still have a pair of jean overalls somewhere in my closet (hey, don’t judge, I didn’t say they were next to my Jimmy Choo boots….oooh wait, I could so rock that outfit, right? Right? Hello?)
It’s not that this new relationship isn’t fraught with pitfalls. It could stand me up, and you could find me forlornly staring into the great abyss of mailbox, alone and misty. I could be anticipating “P.S. I Love You”, and end up with “Final Siege 42”. It could become more expensive—but really what relationships don’t have their price?
Kate
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Two More Things
On this journey of self-discovery (sounds better than a mid-life crisis), I’ve discovered that there are two more things that I don’t understand about my life. And because I’ve dragged you kicking and screaming through this wonderland called my life, I felt like I needed to share. Fear not—nothing has been bleached.
Dry Cleaning
I appear to be allergic to my dry cleaning. I don’t mean that I’m allergic to the chemicals. I don’t mean that I’m allergic to a scent that might adhere to the clothing after they have been cleaned. I don’t mean that the facility itself gives me hives, or that I have a phobia of the plastic garment covers. No, I mean I seem to have a complete and absolute mental block when it comes to picking up my dry cleaning.
“Well, it’s probably far away from you”, you say.
Generous of you, but wrong. I work in the same building as my dry cleaner. I pass it twice a day. I walk right by it on my way to my car every day.
“Well, it isn’t open during the times you pass it”, you say.
Yes, it is. When I leave my job and head to my car to begin my arduous 15 minute drive home (as compared to my 2 hour each way commute in New York), it is open. The cheery man who runs it is ready to do my bidding with a smile. But no, I just keep going.
“Well, you probably just forget that it’s there because you are so distracted”, you say.
Oh, no. I know it’s there. I can feel it calling to me. And I keep walking. I don’t understand. It’s as though the hassles of the day have been too much for me. I can’t take 3 minutes to deviate from my straight-to-home trajectory, even if that deviation is just a slight turn to the left. How does this happen? How did I get to the point where even small inconveniences are too much for my brain to process?
So, I’m setting a new goal: from now on, I’ll pick up my dry cleaning within the same month that I drop it off. Probably. You know, usually. Unless I’m busy, or something good might be on TV.
Communications
I was going over my monthly bills last night, and I came to a stunning revelation. I pay nearly $300 a month on communications devices. Between my cell phone and cell internet access, my two phones lines, my DSL and my wireless laptop card, I pay nearly $300 a month to communicate with the world.
Huh. You’d never know that I hate people.
Of course, I’m kidding. Largely. Mostly. Some days. Ok, I don’t hate everyone, but I’m not exactly the most loquacious person in the world. I essentially have three phones, but when a phone rings, I don’t answer it (because honestly, it’s usually telemarketers, and my cell phone is always turned to quiet). I rarely make phone calls. I call my family, but otherwise I’m not really chatty person. I can go for weeks without actually having a non-familial personal call.
This is insane. Most of the time I want the world to leave me alone—why am I spending a fortune to let it in? Email and internet are obviously essentials because they represent communication on my terms. But this phone thing? Yeah, that’s got to go.
$300--that’s a whole lot of missed shoe buying opportunities.
Kate
Dry Cleaning
I appear to be allergic to my dry cleaning. I don’t mean that I’m allergic to the chemicals. I don’t mean that I’m allergic to a scent that might adhere to the clothing after they have been cleaned. I don’t mean that the facility itself gives me hives, or that I have a phobia of the plastic garment covers. No, I mean I seem to have a complete and absolute mental block when it comes to picking up my dry cleaning.
“Well, it’s probably far away from you”, you say.
Generous of you, but wrong. I work in the same building as my dry cleaner. I pass it twice a day. I walk right by it on my way to my car every day.
“Well, it isn’t open during the times you pass it”, you say.
Yes, it is. When I leave my job and head to my car to begin my arduous 15 minute drive home (as compared to my 2 hour each way commute in New York), it is open. The cheery man who runs it is ready to do my bidding with a smile. But no, I just keep going.
“Well, you probably just forget that it’s there because you are so distracted”, you say.
Oh, no. I know it’s there. I can feel it calling to me. And I keep walking. I don’t understand. It’s as though the hassles of the day have been too much for me. I can’t take 3 minutes to deviate from my straight-to-home trajectory, even if that deviation is just a slight turn to the left. How does this happen? How did I get to the point where even small inconveniences are too much for my brain to process?
So, I’m setting a new goal: from now on, I’ll pick up my dry cleaning within the same month that I drop it off. Probably. You know, usually. Unless I’m busy, or something good might be on TV.
Communications
I was going over my monthly bills last night, and I came to a stunning revelation. I pay nearly $300 a month on communications devices. Between my cell phone and cell internet access, my two phones lines, my DSL and my wireless laptop card, I pay nearly $300 a month to communicate with the world.
Huh. You’d never know that I hate people.
Of course, I’m kidding. Largely. Mostly. Some days. Ok, I don’t hate everyone, but I’m not exactly the most loquacious person in the world. I essentially have three phones, but when a phone rings, I don’t answer it (because honestly, it’s usually telemarketers, and my cell phone is always turned to quiet). I rarely make phone calls. I call my family, but otherwise I’m not really chatty person. I can go for weeks without actually having a non-familial personal call.
This is insane. Most of the time I want the world to leave me alone—why am I spending a fortune to let it in? Email and internet are obviously essentials because they represent communication on my terms. But this phone thing? Yeah, that’s got to go.
$300--that’s a whole lot of missed shoe buying opportunities.
Kate
Monday, May 26, 2008
Remember When?
Remember when you just watched television and movies? Maybe this is just an LA thing that happens, but at some point, I stopped being just a viewer and became an analyst (hazards of my day job, maybe?). Now I know the ratings. I know the demographics. I know if a TV show has won its time slot. I know the box office for movies. I know what a movie needs to make in order to be considered a success, and I know what their advertising budget is going to be based on their production budget—which somehow I also know.
Is that just living here? Is that an example of LA industry-based osmosis? Do you guys do this, too?
Unfortunately, it doesn’t make me any better at guessing what networks are going to do, or what movie ideas will sell (and conversely, which ones won’t). For instance, I don’t really understand CW’s seeming disinterest in picking up Moonlight. Obviously, I’m a recent fan of the show, so there is a bias there, but I don’t get how CW doesn’t benefit. Even if only half of Moonlight’s CBS fanbase migrates to the CW, they’ll outscore all of the CW’s current shows. It’s not like they don’t do genre programming.
What really worries me is the persistent rumor that the reason CW doesn’t want any portion of the 7.5/8 million Moonlight viewers is that the fanbase is too old—that the lead (at 31 years of age) is too old. It’s not that I don’t comprehend wanting to build a tween/teen network—Nickelodeon has done the even younger demographics for years. But I don’t understand not wanting to grow your network beyond a certain age range. If you only market to 12-22 year olds, then what happens when your current viewers age? I guess they don’t care about holding on to them, and assume they’ll pick up the kids entering their age range.
So, they are targeting tween/teens, and a 31 year old male isn’t appealing? Let’s forget for a second that when I was in my mid-teens I was absolutely head over heels in school girl infatuation for Pierce Brosnan’s Remington Steele and Richard Chamberlain’s Father Ralph. What about Alex’s primary co-stars who are all under the age of 30?
As you know, I love Gossip Girl. It is just a little horrifying to realize that they aren’t in their mid-30’s, but actually portraying school age kids. And now the new 90210 2.0 is coming out, and from the early photos/info it is going to be every bit as sexualized. As much as I want to once again yell out “Donna Martin Graduates,” the whole movement is starting to make me cringe. Perhaps the reason that they haven’t picked up Moonlight isn’t because the lead and the fanbase are too old, but rather the series itself is too chaste: not a lot of drug use, very little naked-time, and no random let’s-try-being-a-lesbian-for-a-week scenes. If it helps at all, I’m perfectly willing to sit through a few nearly naked Mick and Beth sex scenes. No really… I’m a giver that way.
At any rate, let’s hope the Sci-Fi Channel decides that they would like a several million more people watching their programming and that the licensing fees aren’t too high for the show. And if you are a spirited fan who wants to get involved in the Moonlight campaign, head over to http://moonlight-united.com/ for information on how you can help keep the “old folks” employed.
Oy.
Kate
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
Is that just living here? Is that an example of LA industry-based osmosis? Do you guys do this, too?
Unfortunately, it doesn’t make me any better at guessing what networks are going to do, or what movie ideas will sell (and conversely, which ones won’t). For instance, I don’t really understand CW’s seeming disinterest in picking up Moonlight. Obviously, I’m a recent fan of the show, so there is a bias there, but I don’t get how CW doesn’t benefit. Even if only half of Moonlight’s CBS fanbase migrates to the CW, they’ll outscore all of the CW’s current shows. It’s not like they don’t do genre programming.
What really worries me is the persistent rumor that the reason CW doesn’t want any portion of the 7.5/8 million Moonlight viewers is that the fanbase is too old—that the lead (at 31 years of age) is too old. It’s not that I don’t comprehend wanting to build a tween/teen network—Nickelodeon has done the even younger demographics for years. But I don’t understand not wanting to grow your network beyond a certain age range. If you only market to 12-22 year olds, then what happens when your current viewers age? I guess they don’t care about holding on to them, and assume they’ll pick up the kids entering their age range.
So, they are targeting tween/teens, and a 31 year old male isn’t appealing? Let’s forget for a second that when I was in my mid-teens I was absolutely head over heels in school girl infatuation for Pierce Brosnan’s Remington Steele and Richard Chamberlain’s Father Ralph. What about Alex’s primary co-stars who are all under the age of 30?
As you know, I love Gossip Girl. It is just a little horrifying to realize that they aren’t in their mid-30’s, but actually portraying school age kids. And now the new 90210 2.0 is coming out, and from the early photos/info it is going to be every bit as sexualized. As much as I want to once again yell out “Donna Martin Graduates,” the whole movement is starting to make me cringe. Perhaps the reason that they haven’t picked up Moonlight isn’t because the lead and the fanbase are too old, but rather the series itself is too chaste: not a lot of drug use, very little naked-time, and no random let’s-try-being-a-lesbian-for-a-week scenes. If it helps at all, I’m perfectly willing to sit through a few nearly naked Mick and Beth sex scenes. No really… I’m a giver that way.
At any rate, let’s hope the Sci-Fi Channel decides that they would like a several million more people watching their programming and that the licensing fees aren’t too high for the show. And if you are a spirited fan who wants to get involved in the Moonlight campaign, head over to http://moonlight-united.com/ for information on how you can help keep the “old folks” employed.
Oy.
Kate
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
Saturday, May 24, 2008
The Bed
My bed and I aren’t speaking, and it is Feng Shui’s fault.
Let me start by saying that I’m not a big believer in the practice of Feng Shui. I read a story about a guy who lost his job because of his strict adherence to the principles. It took him two hours to get to work every day because he refused to make turns in a particular direction. Seems to me the direction he was headed in wasn’t all that great either.
I know a girl who wholeheartedly believes in Feng Shui—she has many books on the subject to prove it. You would see them if you visited her because she’s a hoarder, and they are probably stacked and blocking the entryway as I type.
Despite this, I’m starting to think that I need to review the rules again because if anyone has a wastebasket in their love/marriage/relationship corner, it has got to be me. In fact, it feels like my apartment building’s dumpsters are in my relationship corner. Seriously, I’m betting that the random garbage belonging to 300 people is choking the life out of my relationship corner. I wonder if I can get the city to move the dumpsters. It’s probably not the strangest request they’ve ever gotten. In all likelihood, it’s not even the strangest request they have gotten this week.
But even though I’ve now decided to banish all the waste bins from all the corners of my world (because, really, I don’t want my prosperity corner to take a hit either), I’m still left with the bed conundrum. And it’s not the standard question that everyone asks every day: are my feet pointing in the right direction to bring harmony to the world? I mean, that’s obvious. The pioneers even asked that one.
Apparently, you aren’t supposed to have anything under your bed. If you have stuff under your bed, it blocks the flow of energy. If the love energy isn’t flowing in tornadic fashion, you’re screwed (or, evidently, not). It’s obvious that the person who came up with these love energy rules was not a single woman living in a tiny apartment with an entire lifetime of “woulda”, “coulda” and “shoulda”, not to mention “will-look-great-once-I-own-a-home-a” stored there. But if I pull the stuff out from under my bed, then I’m blocking some other energy passageway in my “earth” space.
And there is one more problem: if stuff under a bed creates a problem, what kind of energy blocking occurs when you bought the bed with The Ex in the first place? That can’t be good, right? Do I need to perform some sort of bed exorcism? Get a medicine man in here to cleanse the bed? This is Los Angeles, that service is probably listed in the yellow pages (do you think it’s under household items or spiritual growth?).
So, it’s obvious, my lack of love life is actually not my fault at all. It’s the bed’s fault. And it’s Feng Shui’s fault. Clearly. It’s the possessed bed of love life past that probably even has a wastebasket under it, and is obviously in the wrong corner thus point my feet into a deranged, solitary future, and it’s cursing all my current prospects. There are probably tens of … uh.. well, ten men… or one man that has woken up and thought “today is the day that I will finally meet the Kate of my dreams”, but instead, I wake up in the cursed bed and ruin it all.
Exorcism it is.
What do you mean buy a new bed? That would just be weird.
Kate, who is currently blaming her bruised tailbone on the possessed, bad feng shui bed
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
Let me start by saying that I’m not a big believer in the practice of Feng Shui. I read a story about a guy who lost his job because of his strict adherence to the principles. It took him two hours to get to work every day because he refused to make turns in a particular direction. Seems to me the direction he was headed in wasn’t all that great either.
I know a girl who wholeheartedly believes in Feng Shui—she has many books on the subject to prove it. You would see them if you visited her because she’s a hoarder, and they are probably stacked and blocking the entryway as I type.
Despite this, I’m starting to think that I need to review the rules again because if anyone has a wastebasket in their love/marriage/relationship corner, it has got to be me. In fact, it feels like my apartment building’s dumpsters are in my relationship corner. Seriously, I’m betting that the random garbage belonging to 300 people is choking the life out of my relationship corner. I wonder if I can get the city to move the dumpsters. It’s probably not the strangest request they’ve ever gotten. In all likelihood, it’s not even the strangest request they have gotten this week.
But even though I’ve now decided to banish all the waste bins from all the corners of my world (because, really, I don’t want my prosperity corner to take a hit either), I’m still left with the bed conundrum. And it’s not the standard question that everyone asks every day: are my feet pointing in the right direction to bring harmony to the world? I mean, that’s obvious. The pioneers even asked that one.
Apparently, you aren’t supposed to have anything under your bed. If you have stuff under your bed, it blocks the flow of energy. If the love energy isn’t flowing in tornadic fashion, you’re screwed (or, evidently, not). It’s obvious that the person who came up with these love energy rules was not a single woman living in a tiny apartment with an entire lifetime of “woulda”, “coulda” and “shoulda”, not to mention “will-look-great-once-I-own-a-home-a” stored there. But if I pull the stuff out from under my bed, then I’m blocking some other energy passageway in my “earth” space.
And there is one more problem: if stuff under a bed creates a problem, what kind of energy blocking occurs when you bought the bed with The Ex in the first place? That can’t be good, right? Do I need to perform some sort of bed exorcism? Get a medicine man in here to cleanse the bed? This is Los Angeles, that service is probably listed in the yellow pages (do you think it’s under household items or spiritual growth?).
So, it’s obvious, my lack of love life is actually not my fault at all. It’s the bed’s fault. And it’s Feng Shui’s fault. Clearly. It’s the possessed bed of love life past that probably even has a wastebasket under it, and is obviously in the wrong corner thus point my feet into a deranged, solitary future, and it’s cursing all my current prospects. There are probably tens of … uh.. well, ten men… or one man that has woken up and thought “today is the day that I will finally meet the Kate of my dreams”, but instead, I wake up in the cursed bed and ruin it all.
Exorcism it is.
What do you mean buy a new bed? That would just be weird.
Kate, who is currently blaming her bruised tailbone on the possessed, bad feng shui bed
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The Grocery Store
If you asked people to describe the real life me, they are likely to come up with many different characterizations: uptight, strange, hermit, furtive, midget-like, etc. And if they were forced to try to figure out what I do with my time, they would hasten to point out that grocery shopping is unlikely to be on the list.
Food and I have a love hate relationship (unless it involves ice cream or chocolate or really anything that can make my ass expand), so it’s not really a surprise that I have only a passing regard for the place that food calls home. Needless to say, when people advise me that the grocery store is a great place to meet men, I cringe. Spending more time there is not a goal.
Well, I have to say, the people on “Team Kate” may have been correct. I did meet a boy at the grocery store today. He even made the first move. I was staring at the meat section (always a turn on for men), and I believe I was looking quite fetching. Perhaps it’s the way my t-shirt was wrinkled just so. Perhaps it was the way the alluring shade of gray of my sweatpants set off my ankles. One can never really know what sparks attraction. Whatever it was, he decided to stop and chat.
Yeah. The damaged ones find me.
I couldn’t swear to him being inebriated—it’s entirely possible that the alcohol was simply seeping from his pores from the prior evening’s activities. It was only 8:30am. I’m not entirely sure that I believe that he was the one who told a certain rehabbed actor where to get the crack that sent him to prison, but it was an interesting and well-told story. I’m also not sure how I was supposed to react to him telling me that he met said actor in prison. Because I’m guessing prison doesn’t give a lot of tours for fun, so that would mean… Boys, just a tip, “yeah, I was in prison with him” is not the celebrity pick-up line you want to use in all situations. Or maybe it’s just me.
Honestly, I kid about this, but this man was in a lot of pain. He’d been in an accident, and was still recovering. I’m not sure how the alcohol or the prison fit into the situation, but I’m pretty certain telling me that he had to leave the movie he’d just seen for a bit to grab a beer may have been a sign that all is not well.
Meanwhile, the security guard is trying to figure out if I’m ok because this conversation had gone on for quite a while, and wasn’t really quiet—but I couldn’t figure out if I was ok, either. Part of me was thinking, “all I’m trying to do is pick up some chicken and get the hell out of here—why does this always happen to me?” While the other part of me felt terrible for this person who clearly needed help and was thinking “this poor man, I hope he—hang on, is he staring at my breasts? He is! He’s staring at my breasts.”
The entire thing left me feeling sad. I hope he gets things worked out and that he recovers well from his injuries. Oh, and I also hope that I have my lethal spork in hand should be meet again, just in case.
“Team Kate” is so fired.
Kate, confused with these alien feelings of sympathy mixing with my comfortable feelings of annoyance
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
Food and I have a love hate relationship (unless it involves ice cream or chocolate or really anything that can make my ass expand), so it’s not really a surprise that I have only a passing regard for the place that food calls home. Needless to say, when people advise me that the grocery store is a great place to meet men, I cringe. Spending more time there is not a goal.
Well, I have to say, the people on “Team Kate” may have been correct. I did meet a boy at the grocery store today. He even made the first move. I was staring at the meat section (always a turn on for men), and I believe I was looking quite fetching. Perhaps it’s the way my t-shirt was wrinkled just so. Perhaps it was the way the alluring shade of gray of my sweatpants set off my ankles. One can never really know what sparks attraction. Whatever it was, he decided to stop and chat.
Yeah. The damaged ones find me.
I couldn’t swear to him being inebriated—it’s entirely possible that the alcohol was simply seeping from his pores from the prior evening’s activities. It was only 8:30am. I’m not entirely sure that I believe that he was the one who told a certain rehabbed actor where to get the crack that sent him to prison, but it was an interesting and well-told story. I’m also not sure how I was supposed to react to him telling me that he met said actor in prison. Because I’m guessing prison doesn’t give a lot of tours for fun, so that would mean… Boys, just a tip, “yeah, I was in prison with him” is not the celebrity pick-up line you want to use in all situations. Or maybe it’s just me.
Honestly, I kid about this, but this man was in a lot of pain. He’d been in an accident, and was still recovering. I’m not sure how the alcohol or the prison fit into the situation, but I’m pretty certain telling me that he had to leave the movie he’d just seen for a bit to grab a beer may have been a sign that all is not well.
Meanwhile, the security guard is trying to figure out if I’m ok because this conversation had gone on for quite a while, and wasn’t really quiet—but I couldn’t figure out if I was ok, either. Part of me was thinking, “all I’m trying to do is pick up some chicken and get the hell out of here—why does this always happen to me?” While the other part of me felt terrible for this person who clearly needed help and was thinking “this poor man, I hope he—hang on, is he staring at my breasts? He is! He’s staring at my breasts.”
The entire thing left me feeling sad. I hope he gets things worked out and that he recovers well from his injuries. Oh, and I also hope that I have my lethal spork in hand should be meet again, just in case.
“Team Kate” is so fired.
Kate, confused with these alien feelings of sympathy mixing with my comfortable feelings of annoyance
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
OMG!
I have a guilty pleasure that I must confess: I love Gossip Girl. I love the clothes. I love much of the music. I love the intrigue and machinations. And much like after the first year of “The Facts of Life”, I wish I looked like a character named Blair.
I don’t love that they are supposed to be playing teenagers. In fact, it bothers me quite a bit. So, in order to watch my guilty pleasure, I merely think of them as manipulative 35-year olds who are amazingly well preserved. That way the show is more like Dallas (but without the shoulder pads). It’s like Dynasty (without the shoulder pads). It’s like Falcon Crest (without the… yeah, you get the idea).
(In the spirit of true confessions, I’m actually a bit more interested in Rufus and Lily (the parents) than any of the kids, most of the time. Plus, Rufus is ridiculously thoughtful and adorable.)
But all I really want to know is are we going to spend season two trying to figure out who shot Georgina? Because you know that girl is working her inner J.R., and it’s only a matter of time.
Think anyone at work would notice if I started signing internal memos with XOXO?
Kate, who thinks it is remotely possible that I’m experiencing a true phase of arrested maturity
I don’t love that they are supposed to be playing teenagers. In fact, it bothers me quite a bit. So, in order to watch my guilty pleasure, I merely think of them as manipulative 35-year olds who are amazingly well preserved. That way the show is more like Dallas (but without the shoulder pads). It’s like Dynasty (without the shoulder pads). It’s like Falcon Crest (without the… yeah, you get the idea).
(In the spirit of true confessions, I’m actually a bit more interested in Rufus and Lily (the parents) than any of the kids, most of the time. Plus, Rufus is ridiculously thoughtful and adorable.)
But all I really want to know is are we going to spend season two trying to figure out who shot Georgina? Because you know that girl is working her inner J.R., and it’s only a matter of time.
Think anyone at work would notice if I started signing internal memos with XOXO?
Kate, who thinks it is remotely possible that I’m experiencing a true phase of arrested maturity
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Cute
You know what’s cute – a little boy singing all the words to “It’s a Small World”. Totally adorable. It’s the kind of free-wheeling joy in life that people don’t exhibit after a certain age. We hide. We run away from open expression in Starbucks. Unless someone has dropped hot coffee on us, of course, and then we actually do freely express many, many things. But this young man is just having a good time.
Still. He’s still having a very good time. Still singing the words to that song. Still.
Um…yeah.
Still. He’s still singing. What a blessing…in disguise…a very hidden blessing.
Kate, trying to write a press release, but focusing on trying to find something that rhymes with vexing instead
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
Friday, May 16, 2008
Moonlight Call Now!
Sorry for the short notice. I just received this from a friend. If you watched Moonlight, go ahead and give them a call. They are actually soliciting this information, but I have no idea why, or if it relates to the show being picked up elsewhere.
http://moonlight-united.com
URGENT: Call CBS Before 6PM Friday
CBS is polling Moonlight fans for demographic information. We don’t know their ultimate goal here, but we are cautiously optimistic. All you need to do is call 818-655-1779 and leave your age, city & state on voice mail. They will stop taking calls at 6PM Pacific EASTERN today (Friday, May 16), so make sure you call in ASAP!
http://moonlight-united.com
URGENT: Call CBS Before 6PM Friday
CBS is polling Moonlight fans for demographic information. We don’t know their ultimate goal here, but we are cautiously optimistic. All you need to do is call 818-655-1779 and leave your age, city & state on voice mail. They will stop taking calls at 6PM Pacific EASTERN today (Friday, May 16), so make sure you call in ASAP!
Monday, May 12, 2008
That Aging Thing
I’ve always thought of aging as a linear thing. I’d grow older and the body/mind/spirit would grow older as well. The body would grow out, and the emotions would grow up. Well, I think we can definitely rule out that last one. The body is definitely growing out, but mentally and emotionally, I think I’m trapped where I was at 25—only minus the whole hopeful, happy outlook with the kicky, cynical edge for flavor. Now it’s just the kicky, cynical edge.
My brain is having a hard time accepting my age. At this stage of the game, no one is ever going to refer to me as precocious again. The “firsts” seem few and far between for me. Well, I suppose I could be among the first of my friends to go through menopause, but I’m not sure I really want to win that race.
I’m still contemplating what I want to be when I grow up. And then it strikes me that I am a “grown up” and that ship is sailing. I have a job. I have a good job. I have a job I’ve been doing for years despite the fact that it was just supposed to be something to tide me over until my graduate school loans were paid off. It was a transitional job that would allow me to pay the bills and give me time to figure out what I wanted. That was nearly 15 years ago. Either I’m the slowest decision maker known to man, or at some point I started sleepwalking. I suppose it’s no wonder that I still think of myself as a carefree 25 year old—it’s probably the last time I really tried to make a plan for my life.
Of course, I may be a mental 25 year old because I actually felt like I had a handle on my life back then, and I’d like to get back there. I was out of school. I was making money. I was living with The Ex, and absolutely believing that my audition for the part of “wife” was going well. Perhaps I’m unwilling to really look at what went wrong, so I’m living in a state of suspended animation—embracing my apartment, lack of emotional ties or obligations and Ikea furniture.
The body… well, the body is what it is—confused. I’m getting acne now. Now?? You should not have to worry about breaking out and breaking a hip all in the same year (ok, so the hips aren’t that bad, but you know what I mean).
So, does this change? Will I suddenly see the world as an advanced thirty-something rather than an insecure and befuddled post-grad? Perhaps the only way I will actually feel like a thirty-something is by dating someone who actually is 25. Well, ok. If that’s what I have to do, I have to do it. Fine. The things I do in the name of advancing mental health. Sigh.
Kate, enjoying the X-Files resurgence that was part of my 25th year, as well. Can't wait for ET tomorrow.
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com/
katedating@yahoo.com
My brain is having a hard time accepting my age. At this stage of the game, no one is ever going to refer to me as precocious again. The “firsts” seem few and far between for me. Well, I suppose I could be among the first of my friends to go through menopause, but I’m not sure I really want to win that race.
I’m still contemplating what I want to be when I grow up. And then it strikes me that I am a “grown up” and that ship is sailing. I have a job. I have a good job. I have a job I’ve been doing for years despite the fact that it was just supposed to be something to tide me over until my graduate school loans were paid off. It was a transitional job that would allow me to pay the bills and give me time to figure out what I wanted. That was nearly 15 years ago. Either I’m the slowest decision maker known to man, or at some point I started sleepwalking. I suppose it’s no wonder that I still think of myself as a carefree 25 year old—it’s probably the last time I really tried to make a plan for my life.
Of course, I may be a mental 25 year old because I actually felt like I had a handle on my life back then, and I’d like to get back there. I was out of school. I was making money. I was living with The Ex, and absolutely believing that my audition for the part of “wife” was going well. Perhaps I’m unwilling to really look at what went wrong, so I’m living in a state of suspended animation—embracing my apartment, lack of emotional ties or obligations and Ikea furniture.
The body… well, the body is what it is—confused. I’m getting acne now. Now?? You should not have to worry about breaking out and breaking a hip all in the same year (ok, so the hips aren’t that bad, but you know what I mean).
So, does this change? Will I suddenly see the world as an advanced thirty-something rather than an insecure and befuddled post-grad? Perhaps the only way I will actually feel like a thirty-something is by dating someone who actually is 25. Well, ok. If that’s what I have to do, I have to do it. Fine. The things I do in the name of advancing mental health. Sigh.
Kate, enjoying the X-Files resurgence that was part of my 25th year, as well. Can't wait for ET tomorrow.
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com/
katedating@yahoo.com
Sunday, May 11, 2008
A Madness Shared By…
You know what I’m doing right now? I mean besides typing, of course. I’m online at a place called The Haven. There are a lot of people in this one thread right now (so many that we’re likely to crash it), from all over the world, waiting to hear something about the new X-Files trailer that should be released at midnight PST (http://www.xfiles.com/). Actually, we just recently figured out that it was supposed to be midnight PST. Some people, quite inspired really, tried to change their time zones to some remote locale in Russia to try to fake out the release time early this morning (I love the ingenuity!), but when that didn’t work, we began to oh-so-patiently await the legitimate release.
Ok, patiently is a bit of a lie. These people are pretty inventive, though. For instance, I just got a kick out of watching a video on youtube of a girl waiting for the trailer to be released. Yep, it’s a video of her waiting. There are also videos of people reacting to the short promo “therapy” videos that were released this weekend (if you haven’t seen them, go to aintitcool and refresh so that you can see both promos in the top right hand corner). These are my people! Now, a whole bunch of us appear to be watching the first X-Files movie to kill time.
I have to be functional at 5am. I can’t stay up until midnight just to see a trailer that I can watch all day tomorrow (provided work doesn’t block the stream). But there is something about sharing the madness, about reading the reactions as they happen that make this experience much more entertaining than can possibly be explained to non-fans. You know, also known as sane people.
Can you imagine what would happen if I turned this kind of energy onto a guy? Honestly, my not dating is probably a public service. Think of the damage I would do.
“I had you big time”
Kate, humming the X-Files theme song and wondering when the intervention will be scheduled
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com/
katedating@yahoo.com
Ok, patiently is a bit of a lie. These people are pretty inventive, though. For instance, I just got a kick out of watching a video on youtube of a girl waiting for the trailer to be released. Yep, it’s a video of her waiting. There are also videos of people reacting to the short promo “therapy” videos that were released this weekend (if you haven’t seen them, go to aintitcool and refresh so that you can see both promos in the top right hand corner). These are my people! Now, a whole bunch of us appear to be watching the first X-Files movie to kill time.
I have to be functional at 5am. I can’t stay up until midnight just to see a trailer that I can watch all day tomorrow (provided work doesn’t block the stream). But there is something about sharing the madness, about reading the reactions as they happen that make this experience much more entertaining than can possibly be explained to non-fans. You know, also known as sane people.
Can you imagine what would happen if I turned this kind of energy onto a guy? Honestly, my not dating is probably a public service. Think of the damage I would do.
“I had you big time”
Kate, humming the X-Files theme song and wondering when the intervention will be scheduled
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com/
katedating@yahoo.com
Saturday, May 10, 2008
"Pool Party"
Please go add the following movie to your Netflix queue: “Pool Party” by Farmview Films. If you accidentally happen upon something pornographic—that’s not it. I promise you, the actual film “Pool Party” isn’t even spicey enough for Cinemax early evening. Oh, wait...
Now, I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that “Pool Party” doesn’t really sound like a “Kate Movie” given my rants, of late. And you would be right, of course. A “Kate Movie” would involve David Duchovny playing some sort of heroic character declaring his undying devotion to my character. Because in this little fantasy, I am a celebrated and respected actress currently playing his love interest in a series of blockbuster, critically acclaimed films. And no, the fact that I’m not currently working as an actress does not diminish the odds of this little fantasy coming true in the least, but thanks for pointing that out none-the-less.
Despite the non-“Kate Movie”-ness of “Pool Party”, put it in your darn queue anyway. And it really doesn’t matter if you don’t currently have Netflix because Netflix gives you a free two week trial. Go! Go now!
I could say that this is a brilliant satire—a play on the ego sport sex culture we find ourselves in (borrowing the best phrase ever from “Made of Honor”), but that would be a lie. There are some good performances, and some moments of hilarity. But in reality, I’m asking you to do this as a favor because I know the filmmakers and the actors, and I’d like to see this whole independent filmmaking folly work out for everyone. Also, how many times do you order a movie that features a monkey clown? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Thank me later.
As I’m sure you can tell by the cover, it’s not really a family film. But the reviewers have recommended it to drunk frat boys everywhere, and since that’s absolutely the demographic the filmmakers were going for—I think they are taking that as a win.
Also, I’d like to point out that nothing was bleached, as far as I know, for this production.
Bonus points if you can find me in it, since I am in the movie (although I wasn’t supposed to be—long story). And no, I won’t tell you which scenes. Or what I look like. That would be cheating.
Kate, who seems to write in bursts these days
http://cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com/
katedating@yahoo.com
Now, I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that “Pool Party” doesn’t really sound like a “Kate Movie” given my rants, of late. And you would be right, of course. A “Kate Movie” would involve David Duchovny playing some sort of heroic character declaring his undying devotion to my character. Because in this little fantasy, I am a celebrated and respected actress currently playing his love interest in a series of blockbuster, critically acclaimed films. And no, the fact that I’m not currently working as an actress does not diminish the odds of this little fantasy coming true in the least, but thanks for pointing that out none-the-less.
Despite the non-“Kate Movie”-ness of “Pool Party”, put it in your darn queue anyway. And it really doesn’t matter if you don’t currently have Netflix because Netflix gives you a free two week trial. Go! Go now!
I could say that this is a brilliant satire—a play on the ego sport sex culture we find ourselves in (borrowing the best phrase ever from “Made of Honor”), but that would be a lie. There are some good performances, and some moments of hilarity. But in reality, I’m asking you to do this as a favor because I know the filmmakers and the actors, and I’d like to see this whole independent filmmaking folly work out for everyone. Also, how many times do you order a movie that features a monkey clown? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Thank me later.
As I’m sure you can tell by the cover, it’s not really a family film. But the reviewers have recommended it to drunk frat boys everywhere, and since that’s absolutely the demographic the filmmakers were going for—I think they are taking that as a win.
Also, I’d like to point out that nothing was bleached, as far as I know, for this production.
Bonus points if you can find me in it, since I am in the movie (although I wasn’t supposed to be—long story). And no, I won’t tell you which scenes. Or what I look like. That would be cheating.
Kate, who seems to write in bursts these days
http://cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com/
katedating@yahoo.com
This Week
Things this week that made me go, “hmmmmmm”:
1. The bank near my building has two walk-up ATMs and a drive-thru ATM. The theory behind this doesn’t seem all that complicated: if you are in a car, you drive up to the ATM, and if you are on foot, you walk up the gradual incline to use the walk-up ATM. Does this seem really confusing? Am I losing anybody here? No? Well, you are officially at least 10 steps ahead of the woman I encountered earlier in the week who kept three cars waiting while she stood at the drive-thru ATM doing about a month’s worth of banking. Did I mention that both walk-up ATMs were empty?
2. Pedestrians in LA clearly have a death wish—there can be no other explanation for holding a conversation with another person while standing the middle of crosswalk. In fact, if you continue to have conversations while standing nearly motionless while a car is desperately trying to finally get through a traffic light, it’s actually entirely legal for that car to hit you just for being stupid. No, seriously, that’s an actual law now. I totally did not just make that one up. Nope. Not me.
3. Cars that stop right after they’ve gotten through an intersection just because they can confuse me. This woman in a big black SUV got through a stop sign, made a turn and then just stopped leaving the car that turned behind her in the middle of the intersection (because that driver did logically believe that her car was going to keep going). Since that second car was stuck in the intersection, the car behind it couldn’t proceed and so on. There were probably 6 cars involved in this little backup, all patiently (no horns, but I’m sure wild, internal, Chloe-style swearing) waiting for the SUV to move, again.
Did the SUV breakdown? No. Was it making another turn? No. Was it trying to avoid hitting someone crossing the street? No. It was just stopped. The driver appeared to be having some sort of a thought, and that was clearly too much for her. Everyone knows you shouldn’t multitask while driving and the act of contemplation must have been so rare for this woman, that she was stymied by it. Either that, or it was actually this woman stopping again so that the paparazzi could get a “surprise” shot of her driving. And for the record, I have idea who she is, or why anyone would give a damn about her driving somewhere.
4. Why is it legal to shove a camera up someone’s dress on a public street? Look, these pantyless, rehab girls might be asking for some attention, but it seems like the paparazzi are constantly going for the crotch shot now. I swear to you, I saw a photo of Jessica Alba (pregnant Jessica Alba) walking down the street. She was wearing a long-ish skirt. And there was a photog behind her trying to get his camera under the skirt. He was practically on the ground behind her to try to get this shot. What the hell? How is that legal? For that matter, why is it legal for tabloids and the like to make money off of someone else’s image? Surely if someone is making money off of you, you should be entitled to some of that coin. A lawyer I know explained it as the difference between entertainment and news. Now all I need is to explain to me why someone walking to Starbucks is news.
5. Nearly all the covers of the glossy entertainment magazines confused me. Who are these people? How does one end up on a non-reality, reality show? I mean, other than through a sex tape? It’s funny because when acting teachers used tot tell me that it was important to get “tape on myself” for casting directors, I don’t think they had the new “stolen” sex tape craze in mind.
6. Don’t worry. Anal bleaching and vaginal rejuvenation still have me confused, as well.
Kate, perpetually confused and cheering for the Cavs!
http://katedating.blogspot.com
http://cafepress.com/katedating
katedating@yahoo.com
1. The bank near my building has two walk-up ATMs and a drive-thru ATM. The theory behind this doesn’t seem all that complicated: if you are in a car, you drive up to the ATM, and if you are on foot, you walk up the gradual incline to use the walk-up ATM. Does this seem really confusing? Am I losing anybody here? No? Well, you are officially at least 10 steps ahead of the woman I encountered earlier in the week who kept three cars waiting while she stood at the drive-thru ATM doing about a month’s worth of banking. Did I mention that both walk-up ATMs were empty?
2. Pedestrians in LA clearly have a death wish—there can be no other explanation for holding a conversation with another person while standing the middle of crosswalk. In fact, if you continue to have conversations while standing nearly motionless while a car is desperately trying to finally get through a traffic light, it’s actually entirely legal for that car to hit you just for being stupid. No, seriously, that’s an actual law now. I totally did not just make that one up. Nope. Not me.
3. Cars that stop right after they’ve gotten through an intersection just because they can confuse me. This woman in a big black SUV got through a stop sign, made a turn and then just stopped leaving the car that turned behind her in the middle of the intersection (because that driver did logically believe that her car was going to keep going). Since that second car was stuck in the intersection, the car behind it couldn’t proceed and so on. There were probably 6 cars involved in this little backup, all patiently (no horns, but I’m sure wild, internal, Chloe-style swearing) waiting for the SUV to move, again.
Did the SUV breakdown? No. Was it making another turn? No. Was it trying to avoid hitting someone crossing the street? No. It was just stopped. The driver appeared to be having some sort of a thought, and that was clearly too much for her. Everyone knows you shouldn’t multitask while driving and the act of contemplation must have been so rare for this woman, that she was stymied by it. Either that, or it was actually this woman stopping again so that the paparazzi could get a “surprise” shot of her driving. And for the record, I have idea who she is, or why anyone would give a damn about her driving somewhere.
4. Why is it legal to shove a camera up someone’s dress on a public street? Look, these pantyless, rehab girls might be asking for some attention, but it seems like the paparazzi are constantly going for the crotch shot now. I swear to you, I saw a photo of Jessica Alba (pregnant Jessica Alba) walking down the street. She was wearing a long-ish skirt. And there was a photog behind her trying to get his camera under the skirt. He was practically on the ground behind her to try to get this shot. What the hell? How is that legal? For that matter, why is it legal for tabloids and the like to make money off of someone else’s image? Surely if someone is making money off of you, you should be entitled to some of that coin. A lawyer I know explained it as the difference between entertainment and news. Now all I need is to explain to me why someone walking to Starbucks is news.
5. Nearly all the covers of the glossy entertainment magazines confused me. Who are these people? How does one end up on a non-reality, reality show? I mean, other than through a sex tape? It’s funny because when acting teachers used tot tell me that it was important to get “tape on myself” for casting directors, I don’t think they had the new “stolen” sex tape craze in mind.
6. Don’t worry. Anal bleaching and vaginal rejuvenation still have me confused, as well.
Kate, perpetually confused and cheering for the Cavs!
http://katedating.blogspot.com
http://cafepress.com/katedating
katedating@yahoo.com
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Who Do They Have?
Out of curiosity, who are the television/film role models for teen and tween girls? Are there young characters out there that are smart and honorable… and clothed?
When I was quite young, I wanted to be Nancy Drew. Grant it, she did seem to have some very cute Hardy boy friends, but it was the sleuthing that I admired. Not only was she savvy, but she was also unfailingly polite. What’s not to like about that? She had my priorities—school, righting great injustice and solid friendships. You know what else she had in the later years? A boyfriend named Ned who admired her for her intelligence and her persistence. He never once said (at least out loud), “damn, I want to hit that”.
As I neared the training bra years, I’ll admit that I wanted to be one of Charlie’s Angels. Guess which one? Sabrina. I wanted to be Sabrina. My hair may have been feathered, but I wanted to be Sabrina. She was smart and kind, and always managed to save the day. She was extremely capable and admired for her intellect—pretty much the only qualities I aspired to have. Also, she very rarely had to do any of it in a bikini (although to be fair, I do wish I looked like Jaclyn Smith).
My mid-teen years were spent with dreams of becoming Laura Holt. She had a wild side (tales of live-in boyfriend kept Steele guessing), but also an unwavering moral center. She was a strong, opinionated, inventive woman with a penchant for the tall, dark and mysterious. She was a crusader with a weakness for chocolate. While often dismissed by male colleagues, she made the world safe for all of us rebels. Plus, she looked great in hats.
And then there is Scully. While I’d like to avoid her abductions and health problems, no one can deny the character was as smart and tenacious as they come. Again, her intelligence was admired. You never felt like Scully thought, “hmmm, maybe something with a higher slit, more cleavage—and today, when I know the right answer, I wont speak up… I’ll just tilt my head winningly and let Mulder think he’s right.” Hell, no! People noticed Scully—all 5’2” of her. Not because she was beautiful (although she was), but because she was astonishingly clever, tirelessly dedicated and loyal. If anything, Scully (and Mulder) proved that smart is sexy and that insightful debate can make for some arousing foreplay. How could he help but be fascinated? How could anyone?
Who do young girls/women have now? Bratz dolls? Reality shows full of girls who are becoming famous for sex tapes, vapidity and breast implants? I hope against hope that they are looking to Hermione Granger rather than the current crop of panty-less rehab girls. Where are the crusaders? Are they being held hostage by the sex kittens (and have I inadvertently given Fox its next sitcom)?
Or am I just old?
Kate, who has suddenly realized that she was destined to become a detective and went radically wrong somewhere
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
When I was quite young, I wanted to be Nancy Drew. Grant it, she did seem to have some very cute Hardy boy friends, but it was the sleuthing that I admired. Not only was she savvy, but she was also unfailingly polite. What’s not to like about that? She had my priorities—school, righting great injustice and solid friendships. You know what else she had in the later years? A boyfriend named Ned who admired her for her intelligence and her persistence. He never once said (at least out loud), “damn, I want to hit that”.
As I neared the training bra years, I’ll admit that I wanted to be one of Charlie’s Angels. Guess which one? Sabrina. I wanted to be Sabrina. My hair may have been feathered, but I wanted to be Sabrina. She was smart and kind, and always managed to save the day. She was extremely capable and admired for her intellect—pretty much the only qualities I aspired to have. Also, she very rarely had to do any of it in a bikini (although to be fair, I do wish I looked like Jaclyn Smith).
My mid-teen years were spent with dreams of becoming Laura Holt. She had a wild side (tales of live-in boyfriend kept Steele guessing), but also an unwavering moral center. She was a strong, opinionated, inventive woman with a penchant for the tall, dark and mysterious. She was a crusader with a weakness for chocolate. While often dismissed by male colleagues, she made the world safe for all of us rebels. Plus, she looked great in hats.
And then there is Scully. While I’d like to avoid her abductions and health problems, no one can deny the character was as smart and tenacious as they come. Again, her intelligence was admired. You never felt like Scully thought, “hmmm, maybe something with a higher slit, more cleavage—and today, when I know the right answer, I wont speak up… I’ll just tilt my head winningly and let Mulder think he’s right.” Hell, no! People noticed Scully—all 5’2” of her. Not because she was beautiful (although she was), but because she was astonishingly clever, tirelessly dedicated and loyal. If anything, Scully (and Mulder) proved that smart is sexy and that insightful debate can make for some arousing foreplay. How could he help but be fascinated? How could anyone?
Who do young girls/women have now? Bratz dolls? Reality shows full of girls who are becoming famous for sex tapes, vapidity and breast implants? I hope against hope that they are looking to Hermione Granger rather than the current crop of panty-less rehab girls. Where are the crusaders? Are they being held hostage by the sex kittens (and have I inadvertently given Fox its next sitcom)?
Or am I just old?
Kate, who has suddenly realized that she was destined to become a detective and went radically wrong somewhere
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Brief Injury Update
I just injured myself lying in an inert lump. I was completely motionless while watching a baseball game. When…WHAMO…I got a cramp in my foot.
No seriously, it was a blinding pain, almost as though my foot picked up on the vague suggestion of movement brought on by my breathing.
I’m fairly certain the end is near.
No seriously, it was a blinding pain, almost as though my foot picked up on the vague suggestion of movement brought on by my breathing.
I’m fairly certain the end is near.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
How the...
I have broken my ass.
I don’t mean I danced it off. I don’t mean I’ve been working it off. I don’t mean I’ve busted my butt to accomplish something. No metaphors here.
I have broken my ass. And I don’t know how.
For the last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed a persistent tailbone ache. If I sit a certain way, particularly when working at home on the computer, it’s mighty uncomfortable. I went to the movies this weekend, and had to keep shifting my weight. Driving my car has moments of twinge.
Now most people bruise their tailbones because they are doing something creative and naked, and something goes wrong (or very right, depending on your take of things). I can guarantee you that not only is this not the case in my situation, but that I can barely remember the last time my tailbone was actually in any real danger.
I have not fallen. I have not backed into anything. No one has tried to beat me senseless either with a 2x4, or with their wit in weeks.
Dee thinks I have a secret life. If I do, it’s news to me. Perhaps, my ass is having a better time than I realize. Although I do try to keep it with me as often as possible, so I’d like to think I’d notice something like that. Then again, I’ve been very distracted lately.
No, I think that I’ve sat on it for so long, that it has finally had enough. I have this visual of my ever expanding cheeks angrily trying to strangle my tailbone. Seriously, as they get bigger, they are actually growing inward. And now the tailbone is striking back! I can’t tell you how thrilled I am that I’ve reached a stage in life where my bones are actually bruising from inactivity. Careful kids, sitting on the couch can be bum-deadly!
Swell. I was worried that it would take years to get to this level of decrepitude.
Now I have to figure out how to explain to work that rather than propping myself upright while feigning interest, I will spend the next few weeks supine. I’m sure people can just step over me.
Kate
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
I don’t mean I danced it off. I don’t mean I’ve been working it off. I don’t mean I’ve busted my butt to accomplish something. No metaphors here.
I have broken my ass. And I don’t know how.
For the last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed a persistent tailbone ache. If I sit a certain way, particularly when working at home on the computer, it’s mighty uncomfortable. I went to the movies this weekend, and had to keep shifting my weight. Driving my car has moments of twinge.
Now most people bruise their tailbones because they are doing something creative and naked, and something goes wrong (or very right, depending on your take of things). I can guarantee you that not only is this not the case in my situation, but that I can barely remember the last time my tailbone was actually in any real danger.
I have not fallen. I have not backed into anything. No one has tried to beat me senseless either with a 2x4, or with their wit in weeks.
Dee thinks I have a secret life. If I do, it’s news to me. Perhaps, my ass is having a better time than I realize. Although I do try to keep it with me as often as possible, so I’d like to think I’d notice something like that. Then again, I’ve been very distracted lately.
No, I think that I’ve sat on it for so long, that it has finally had enough. I have this visual of my ever expanding cheeks angrily trying to strangle my tailbone. Seriously, as they get bigger, they are actually growing inward. And now the tailbone is striking back! I can’t tell you how thrilled I am that I’ve reached a stage in life where my bones are actually bruising from inactivity. Careful kids, sitting on the couch can be bum-deadly!
Swell. I was worried that it would take years to get to this level of decrepitude.
Now I have to figure out how to explain to work that rather than propping myself upright while feigning interest, I will spend the next few weeks supine. I’m sure people can just step over me.
Kate
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
Saturday, April 26, 2008
They’re Stealing What?
http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSN2319603620080423?feedType=RSS&feedName=oddlyEnoughNews&rpc=22&sp=true
“Penis theft panic hits city…”
I swear to you, this is a real headline. It’s from a Reuters article, so I don’t think it’s a hoax, either. Obviously, this is a very serious news story…very serious… stop laughing…I’m not laughing. Those tears streaming down my face and the shaking are all elements of fear for the men of Democratic Republic of Congo.
To summarize, the men of DRC believe that sorcery is behind rampant cursing of the always magical male equipment. In short (bada bum), men claim to be having encounters with people (strange men in cabs wearing gold rings are always good to avoid) capable of making the genitals “disappear”—as in making them either impotent, or leaving them with a very tiny package. People who have actually been arrested because the last time there was penis panic, 12 people were beaten to death after being suspected of the hexings.
Sure, it’s probably not health concerns, diet, steroid use, drug use, age, a sudden cold snap or genetics. I’d go straight for the witchcraft angle, too. It’s fascinating to read about a widespread panic based on male insecurity. Then again, there is this quote:
“It's real. Just yesterday here, there was a man who was a victim. We saw. What was left was tiny”
I’m not sure how this stranger at the phone card stand saw this guy’s… uh… problem, but I guess I might want to blame others to if this was the case. How are the police substantiating the claims? Are there before and after photos? That’s bound to be one hell of a police report.
Look, it’s not as if I don’t understand these concerns. I’ve had more than one penis stolen from me over the years. If I were the DRC police, I’d be looking for blondes, usually in their 20s.
Never say I’m not all about public safety.
Kate, who swears this won’t become a private parts blog… unless I keep reading stories like this
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
“Penis theft panic hits city…”
I swear to you, this is a real headline. It’s from a Reuters article, so I don’t think it’s a hoax, either. Obviously, this is a very serious news story…very serious… stop laughing…I’m not laughing. Those tears streaming down my face and the shaking are all elements of fear for the men of Democratic Republic of Congo.
To summarize, the men of DRC believe that sorcery is behind rampant cursing of the always magical male equipment. In short (bada bum), men claim to be having encounters with people (strange men in cabs wearing gold rings are always good to avoid) capable of making the genitals “disappear”—as in making them either impotent, or leaving them with a very tiny package. People who have actually been arrested because the last time there was penis panic, 12 people were beaten to death after being suspected of the hexings.
Sure, it’s probably not health concerns, diet, steroid use, drug use, age, a sudden cold snap or genetics. I’d go straight for the witchcraft angle, too. It’s fascinating to read about a widespread panic based on male insecurity. Then again, there is this quote:
“It's real. Just yesterday here, there was a man who was a victim. We saw. What was left was tiny”
I’m not sure how this stranger at the phone card stand saw this guy’s… uh… problem, but I guess I might want to blame others to if this was the case. How are the police substantiating the claims? Are there before and after photos? That’s bound to be one hell of a police report.
Look, it’s not as if I don’t understand these concerns. I’ve had more than one penis stolen from me over the years. If I were the DRC police, I’d be looking for blondes, usually in their 20s.
Never say I’m not all about public safety.
Kate, who swears this won’t become a private parts blog… unless I keep reading stories like this
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Moonlight at Paley Recap
Another Paley evening means another tired and slightly bemused morning—but it was worth it. As I mentioned earlier, last evening I attended the last in the drama screening series at the Paley Center. It was a night with the cast and the creators of the CBS drama, “Moonlight”. The panel included Harry Werksman (Executive Producer), Brian White, Gabrielle G. Stanton (Co-Executive Producer), Jason Dohring, Eric Winter, Sophia Myles, Alex O'Loughlin and Joel Silver (yep, that Joel Silver).
To say the Moonlight fans were enthusiastic would be a huge understatement. They are very invested in the success of this show, and had a really interesting give and take with the panel. Kristin (from E!) was the moderator, and even she remarked that she had never seen a crowd so excited before one of the Paley events (LOL! She should have attended the X-Files event, which was probably close).
Disclaimer here: I watch Moonlight, but wasn’t there from the beginning. My friends PT and M were already big fans, and their interest made me go online to watch the first four episodes that I had missed. So, relative to the crowd on hand, I’m a novice. As one fan humorously told the panel (specifically, Alex, I think), “[we] know more about the episodes than [you] do.” This is a good environment for me to observe rather than participate because I knew any question I might have had for the panel would have been stupid, and clearly something discussed already on a message board somewhere. I kept my head down, and tried not to embarrass PT.
PT had two goals: Meet Alex O’Loughlin and not get arrested. Good solid goals for the evening, particularly since I had limited funds to extract her if she got arrested. I assume she would have needed no extraction from Alex, if that had worked out. Alas, she did not get to meet him one on one. Normally, the clips are shown before the panel, and then the fans get a chance to meet with the cast/creators after the event. For this one, they showed a full episode (fans who weren’t there—you’re going to be pretty pleased with Friday’s ep) at the end, and the panel left. PT did go down as the screening was starting in hopes of a glimpse, but sadly, not meant to be. I heard somewhere that some of them were heading back to set, so that must have been a long, long evening for them.
Some of my favorite moments from the evening:
1) Sophia Myles on why she couldn’t give blood at the blood drive that was being held in conjunction with the event (long story—fan driven event): Apologies, I’m not able to give Blood because I’m from England. Apparently, we might still have mad cow disease [much laughter], so I did try, but they said no.
2) The accents! Intellectually, I knew that Alex O’Loughlin was Australian and that Sophia was English, but it did throw me a bit when they began speaking. Joel Silver joked as each of them started “he’s Australian, he’s not doing an accent” and “English, she’s English, another accent”.
3) The crowd reaction to Eric Winter talking about joining the cast was very entertaining. Look, this guy is hot. As an observer, I can see why having a very attractive man add some sexual tension to the story could be a good thing. But I know any time a woman showed up on The X-Files, I got a little tense, too (Diana Fowley, anyone?). Kristin kept mentioning that she missed Eric on Brothers & Sisters. He pretended to use the big scales: “Kevin or Beth, Kevin or Beth” – which actually got him booed (but not in a mean way) because fans are always going to be protective. Kristin explained, “If you are moving in on Beth, I think they want you back on Brothers & Sisters”.
4) The interplay between Alex and Sophia was very entertaining. While discussing their on-screen chemistry (which they both think is hot on camera):
Sophia: “I think because our relationship is so strong and platonic—I often think when people get involved outside of work, chemistry onscreen goes—but because we’re like brother and sister…”
Alex: “Which is why I just say, No, Sophia” [laughter] “They are friends, they can know”
5) Listening to Joel Silver talk about the process with his other producers was enlightening. I’m sure there is a certain level of frustration with not really knowing what the show’s fate is, but they seem to be planning for an engaging and intense second season should they (when they) get that pick up.
It was a really entertaining evening, and if you have been a casual fan (or if you are a new fan because of Eric Winter), now is the time to check out the show.
As a side note, for those of you keeping score at home, I’ve spent time in the company of 4 of my 5 men of distraction in the last two months. Duchovny in February. Nick Lea in March. George Clooney in March. Alex O’Loughlin in April. Sure, there were hundreds of other people there, but I think it still counts. I even had the opportunity to add #5 (Jon Hamm), but I was so exhausted from The X-Files Paley event, I didn’t go to the Mad Men one the next day. Still—not a bad spring, distraction-wise. I have to hope my late spring/early summer is equally enticing!
Kate
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
To say the Moonlight fans were enthusiastic would be a huge understatement. They are very invested in the success of this show, and had a really interesting give and take with the panel. Kristin (from E!) was the moderator, and even she remarked that she had never seen a crowd so excited before one of the Paley events (LOL! She should have attended the X-Files event, which was probably close).
Disclaimer here: I watch Moonlight, but wasn’t there from the beginning. My friends PT and M were already big fans, and their interest made me go online to watch the first four episodes that I had missed. So, relative to the crowd on hand, I’m a novice. As one fan humorously told the panel (specifically, Alex, I think), “[we] know more about the episodes than [you] do.” This is a good environment for me to observe rather than participate because I knew any question I might have had for the panel would have been stupid, and clearly something discussed already on a message board somewhere. I kept my head down, and tried not to embarrass PT.
PT had two goals: Meet Alex O’Loughlin and not get arrested. Good solid goals for the evening, particularly since I had limited funds to extract her if she got arrested. I assume she would have needed no extraction from Alex, if that had worked out. Alas, she did not get to meet him one on one. Normally, the clips are shown before the panel, and then the fans get a chance to meet with the cast/creators after the event. For this one, they showed a full episode (fans who weren’t there—you’re going to be pretty pleased with Friday’s ep) at the end, and the panel left. PT did go down as the screening was starting in hopes of a glimpse, but sadly, not meant to be. I heard somewhere that some of them were heading back to set, so that must have been a long, long evening for them.
Some of my favorite moments from the evening:
1) Sophia Myles on why she couldn’t give blood at the blood drive that was being held in conjunction with the event (long story—fan driven event): Apologies, I’m not able to give Blood because I’m from England. Apparently, we might still have mad cow disease [much laughter], so I did try, but they said no.
2) The accents! Intellectually, I knew that Alex O’Loughlin was Australian and that Sophia was English, but it did throw me a bit when they began speaking. Joel Silver joked as each of them started “he’s Australian, he’s not doing an accent” and “English, she’s English, another accent”.
3) The crowd reaction to Eric Winter talking about joining the cast was very entertaining. Look, this guy is hot. As an observer, I can see why having a very attractive man add some sexual tension to the story could be a good thing. But I know any time a woman showed up on The X-Files, I got a little tense, too (Diana Fowley, anyone?). Kristin kept mentioning that she missed Eric on Brothers & Sisters. He pretended to use the big scales: “Kevin or Beth, Kevin or Beth” – which actually got him booed (but not in a mean way) because fans are always going to be protective. Kristin explained, “If you are moving in on Beth, I think they want you back on Brothers & Sisters”.
4) The interplay between Alex and Sophia was very entertaining. While discussing their on-screen chemistry (which they both think is hot on camera):
Sophia: “I think because our relationship is so strong and platonic—I often think when people get involved outside of work, chemistry onscreen goes—but because we’re like brother and sister…”
Alex: “Which is why I just say, No, Sophia” [laughter] “They are friends, they can know”
5) Listening to Joel Silver talk about the process with his other producers was enlightening. I’m sure there is a certain level of frustration with not really knowing what the show’s fate is, but they seem to be planning for an engaging and intense second season should they (when they) get that pick up.
It was a really entertaining evening, and if you have been a casual fan (or if you are a new fan because of Eric Winter), now is the time to check out the show.
As a side note, for those of you keeping score at home, I’ve spent time in the company of 4 of my 5 men of distraction in the last two months. Duchovny in February. Nick Lea in March. George Clooney in March. Alex O’Loughlin in April. Sure, there were hundreds of other people there, but I think it still counts. I even had the opportunity to add #5 (Jon Hamm), but I was so exhausted from The X-Files Paley event, I didn’t go to the Mad Men one the next day. Still—not a bad spring, distraction-wise. I have to hope my late spring/early summer is equally enticing!
Kate
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com
katedating@yahoo.com
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Moonlight at Paley
Another night in Los Angeles surrounded by handsome men. I know, you'd think I'd be tired of this by now. Oh, wait, no that's crazy talk. But I did enjoy another night at the Paley Center. Tonight's screening and Q&A was with the cast and creators of the CBS show "Moonlight". I'll write more on this later, but for the moment, I'm loading some of my favorite photos from the event (all thanks to Dee who sacrificed her camera to the cause!).
(as always, click on the small photo for a much, much, much larger version)
(as always, click on the small photo for a much, much, much larger version)
Sunday, April 20, 2008
NSFW: Only in LA
I’m a prude. Rather than pretend otherwise, I’m just going to embrace my more brilliant, uptight qualities. I still blush. I’ll still exclaim “Oh, my” when I see things like the full frontal shots in “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” (although, Jason, you are a brave man with nothing to be ashamed of—well done.)
Having said all of this, you must understand that Los Angeles, much like New York before this, has been a learning experience for me. I honestly believe I’ve had conversations here that people elsewhere probably do not have, or am I just out of touch in addition to being rigid?
For instance— how many of you have had conversations about vaginal rejuvenation? I’ll be honest; I wasn’t entirely certain what it was. It sounds sort of relaxing – perhaps a form of really intriguing massage, or herbal cleanse? Or it could some form of pep talk specifically designed for the zone—although someone yelling you are good enough, strong enough and darn it, people like you, to my vagina would probably traumatize me more than rejuvenate me.
Then I found out what this actually was. Apparently, you can surgically tighten up all the related areas south of the border. One ad I saw indicated that you could be “tight as a virgin” again for your man. Well, yippee. Hands up if that actually sounds good to you because I’m finding the phrase “hell, no” rolling around my brain. Once was quite enough, thank you.
Obviously, if you’ve had trauma, I get why this kind of reconstruction would be important. But as a way to give your man a special surprise? I don’t think so. Again, leaving out the possibilities of having many children or trauma, who came up with this? I’m willing to bet it was not a woman. Apparently, the procedure has come a long way, but initially it was difficult to control. So much so that normal sexual function was excruciating afterwards—but hey, as long as things were tight for the guy, who really cared, right?
Men have sagging issues, right? Gravity pulls certain sac like structures southward, too, right? Are there men lining up for sac lifts?
I will say one thing, though; I may have found one of two really great ways to get out of work without any further questions. Seriously—the first time someone questions why you are taking so much sick time at work, just throw out the following: “I’ve had complications from my vaginal rejuvenation surgery”. If anything other than silence or sputtering follows, you must be in LA.
The second “no questions asked” reason for calling out of work: complications from anal bleaching.
This is another topic of conversation so rarely heard outside of Los Angeles. I swear to you, I have heard the following sentence uttered: “Oh, he won’t date anyone who hasn’t had her asshole bleached”.
Let that sink in for a moment.
I have a number of questions, the first of which is, how the hell does someone you’ve just met know one way or another? Is it the way you walk? Because I can see how you might walk funny for a couple of days. Is this a question I’m going to face on a first date? When I’m filling out my online forms, should I not be shocked when this rolls by among the top five questions that my potential date wants to know? In addition to the war on pubic hair, do the women of Los Angeles now have to wonder if the color of their anal ring is pleasing? Should we be shooting for pearl, or something so white that the glow can be seen from space?
Normally, I’d say that my ass is not in play. But if it were in play—you know, after 20 years of begging from my loyal and dedicated husband—there better be nothing but obsequious gratitude directed my way. What should not be directed my way is the following: “Uh, so, you gonna keep it that color?”
I’m not here to judge. Goodness, who among us hasn’t thought, “Gosh, I’d love to burn my anus with a highly caustic agent tonight”? But seriously—what are we doing to ourselves?
Kate, re-thinking the whole convent thing
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com/
katedating@yahoo.com
Having said all of this, you must understand that Los Angeles, much like New York before this, has been a learning experience for me. I honestly believe I’ve had conversations here that people elsewhere probably do not have, or am I just out of touch in addition to being rigid?
For instance— how many of you have had conversations about vaginal rejuvenation? I’ll be honest; I wasn’t entirely certain what it was. It sounds sort of relaxing – perhaps a form of really intriguing massage, or herbal cleanse? Or it could some form of pep talk specifically designed for the zone—although someone yelling you are good enough, strong enough and darn it, people like you, to my vagina would probably traumatize me more than rejuvenate me.
Then I found out what this actually was. Apparently, you can surgically tighten up all the related areas south of the border. One ad I saw indicated that you could be “tight as a virgin” again for your man. Well, yippee. Hands up if that actually sounds good to you because I’m finding the phrase “hell, no” rolling around my brain. Once was quite enough, thank you.
Obviously, if you’ve had trauma, I get why this kind of reconstruction would be important. But as a way to give your man a special surprise? I don’t think so. Again, leaving out the possibilities of having many children or trauma, who came up with this? I’m willing to bet it was not a woman. Apparently, the procedure has come a long way, but initially it was difficult to control. So much so that normal sexual function was excruciating afterwards—but hey, as long as things were tight for the guy, who really cared, right?
Men have sagging issues, right? Gravity pulls certain sac like structures southward, too, right? Are there men lining up for sac lifts?
I will say one thing, though; I may have found one of two really great ways to get out of work without any further questions. Seriously—the first time someone questions why you are taking so much sick time at work, just throw out the following: “I’ve had complications from my vaginal rejuvenation surgery”. If anything other than silence or sputtering follows, you must be in LA.
The second “no questions asked” reason for calling out of work: complications from anal bleaching.
This is another topic of conversation so rarely heard outside of Los Angeles. I swear to you, I have heard the following sentence uttered: “Oh, he won’t date anyone who hasn’t had her asshole bleached”.
Let that sink in for a moment.
I have a number of questions, the first of which is, how the hell does someone you’ve just met know one way or another? Is it the way you walk? Because I can see how you might walk funny for a couple of days. Is this a question I’m going to face on a first date? When I’m filling out my online forms, should I not be shocked when this rolls by among the top five questions that my potential date wants to know? In addition to the war on pubic hair, do the women of Los Angeles now have to wonder if the color of their anal ring is pleasing? Should we be shooting for pearl, or something so white that the glow can be seen from space?
Normally, I’d say that my ass is not in play. But if it were in play—you know, after 20 years of begging from my loyal and dedicated husband—there better be nothing but obsequious gratitude directed my way. What should not be directed my way is the following: “Uh, so, you gonna keep it that color?”
I’m not here to judge. Goodness, who among us hasn’t thought, “Gosh, I’d love to burn my anus with a highly caustic agent tonight”? But seriously—what are we doing to ourselves?
Kate, re-thinking the whole convent thing
http://www.cafepress.com/katedating
http://katedating.blogspot.com/
katedating@yahoo.com
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