I was seduced, I tell you! No, not in the romantic sense of candles, flowery talk and promises of an investment portfolio miraculously unscathed by the recent economic turndown; I mean in the sense that I foolishly believed that I was safe. Safe from the ghosts of Christmas past. Safe from the evils of the world (ie many of the people I knew in high school). Safe from the lack of drama in a town known as ex-boyfriend-ville. Safe.
Informal messaging medium (ie Facebook) seduced me into believing that only the most fun people in my life would find me. It was blissful. People befriended me (and those of you who haven’t, please do… provided I like you)—most of whom I actually knew, which is rarely the case on myspace anymore. For many, many months, I believed that it would all just remain an entertaining, sharing place.
I’m here to tell you, Facebook is not safe.
It began with friend requests from people that sparked distant, and yet distinctly uncomfortable, memories. I’m pretty sure people who didn’t like me in high school are now my “friends” on Facebook. Ok. Fine. We all grow, mature. Oh, what the hell am I saying? No, we don’t. I have no idea why they are my friends on Facebook, since I’m pretty sure we haven’t thought of each other in any sort of warm and/or fuzzy way in about 25 years. But there they are—all calling me a nickname I haven’t used since I was 20. Swell.
Next came the ex-boyfriends of friends. Now, I liked the friends, but I’m pretty sure I had absolutely no difficulty ignoring the existence of their ex’s (as any good friend would) once they firmly moved them out of the picture. Why are we all pretending to be friends now? In addition, I’m getting friend requests from the “hangers on”. You know—the guys who came with the ex’s of friends. But not only are those people reaching out beyond the high school memory graveyard, but they also want to send me things and add me to their birthday calendars. Huh? I don’t want to remember my own birthday this year—I certainly don’t want the distant hanger on friend of friend’s ex-boyfriend from 20 years ago bringing it up.
I know what you are thinking—just reject their friend request. But I can’t. That seems rude, in a way that bitching about it all here on blogspot does not. I know, I have a confusing ethical guide. Love me.
But today… the very nearly final blow occurred. My happy, drama free social networking came to a jarring halt, when I saw his name. The Ex. He commented on a photo I commented on—hell, he commented on a photo I took. But he wasn’t commenting to me.
And I froze. We haven’t “spoken” since the great text message fiasco of March ’08. I’ve been way too busy to moon about and think of him… often…as much… whatever. Still, I’ve been really good. He had his busy new, happy husband life, and I had my… um… you know… um… whatever it is that I’m doing.
But time stopped today. I’m sure you noticed it. That grinding, screeching sound was me seeing the Facebook message “________ also commented on ______’s photo”. That name. Can’t mistake it. It’s unusual. And all of a sudden, these many, many months later, there it was in front of me again.
I didn’t look him up. I didn’t do a search for him. I’m pretty sure he’s new to Facebook because he’s never had the time for this sort of thing. I’ll probably not see his name appear ever again.
And yet….
What will my reaction be when a “friend request” notice comes my way? And more likely, how will I feel when it doesn’t?
Seduced, I tell you – lulled into a belief that this particular button was done being pushed.
How ridiculous of me.
Kate
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
A Muddle
I’m writing this from a great distance… straight up. I’m flying home from visiting my parents in Ohio (where it was 6 degrees (!) at the start of the week and 66 when I flew out), and I began pondering the many things today that don’t make sense to me—in addition to that whole weather thing, of course, because that’s just crazy.
VIP Tickets to Parties
I don’t understand having levels of “special” at parties. This behavior would be unconscionably rude if you were throwing a party in your home, but throw a party in a club, and it’s considered de rigeur. You have the normal people, aka the people there to actually enjoy the party and occasionally gaze wistfully at the VIP section convinced that some distant day they will also be important enough to get past the rope. Then there is the VIP section. From my, admittedly limited, experience the VIP section is full of people who paid extra money to avoid the people who actually want to be there. This section is also highlighted by the dawning realization that there is a level of Really VIP that they still can’t buy into no matter what the ticket said. It is my fondest hope that one of these days someone throws a party and says “none of you are really all that important” and K-Fed has to buy his own bottle.
But that’s just me.
I will, however, begin separating my friends at any party I throw in my tiny apartment. I’m just kidding. You know I’d never have a party in my apartment.
Carry-On Luggage
Here’s a tip: just because you can physically carry it, does not mean it is carry-on luggage. If you could actually float a family of 12 down a river on it, it is not a carry-on. Also, you swearing that “last time it fit” when it has clearly never fit into anything other than a semi isn’t fooling anyone. The good news is when you crush everything around you and shove with all your might to get it into the overhead compartment, you wont have to worry about it shifting during the flight. It won’t shift. Ever. Not even when you hold up all the other passengers when you have to pry it out during deplaning. Well done.
Turbulence
Turbulence. I don’t get it. I don’t like it. I want it to stop.
Book Boy
Why is the man I’ve now dubbed “book boy” sitting in the window seat? We should clearly be sharing intellectual discourse on the meaning of… um… well, anything really, as you know what happens to me when I am faced with a boy who reads. Sadly, it appears to be beyond my ability to chat with him when he is a) reading, and doesn’t really look like he wants to be disturbed and b) there is a sleeping person in between us. Fate is cruel.
Turbulence
Again, self-explanatory and seemingly unending.
Kate, hoping that everyone had (or is having) lovely holidays!
VIP Tickets to Parties
I don’t understand having levels of “special” at parties. This behavior would be unconscionably rude if you were throwing a party in your home, but throw a party in a club, and it’s considered de rigeur. You have the normal people, aka the people there to actually enjoy the party and occasionally gaze wistfully at the VIP section convinced that some distant day they will also be important enough to get past the rope. Then there is the VIP section. From my, admittedly limited, experience the VIP section is full of people who paid extra money to avoid the people who actually want to be there. This section is also highlighted by the dawning realization that there is a level of Really VIP that they still can’t buy into no matter what the ticket said. It is my fondest hope that one of these days someone throws a party and says “none of you are really all that important” and K-Fed has to buy his own bottle.
But that’s just me.
I will, however, begin separating my friends at any party I throw in my tiny apartment. I’m just kidding. You know I’d never have a party in my apartment.
Carry-On Luggage
Here’s a tip: just because you can physically carry it, does not mean it is carry-on luggage. If you could actually float a family of 12 down a river on it, it is not a carry-on. Also, you swearing that “last time it fit” when it has clearly never fit into anything other than a semi isn’t fooling anyone. The good news is when you crush everything around you and shove with all your might to get it into the overhead compartment, you wont have to worry about it shifting during the flight. It won’t shift. Ever. Not even when you hold up all the other passengers when you have to pry it out during deplaning. Well done.
Turbulence
Turbulence. I don’t get it. I don’t like it. I want it to stop.
Book Boy
Why is the man I’ve now dubbed “book boy” sitting in the window seat? We should clearly be sharing intellectual discourse on the meaning of… um… well, anything really, as you know what happens to me when I am faced with a boy who reads. Sadly, it appears to be beyond my ability to chat with him when he is a) reading, and doesn’t really look like he wants to be disturbed and b) there is a sleeping person in between us. Fate is cruel.
Turbulence
Again, self-explanatory and seemingly unending.
Kate, hoping that everyone had (or is having) lovely holidays!
Friday, December 12, 2008
Health Tips... Or
As many of you have heard, either because I’ve been coughing down the hall or because you’ve emailed, I have been sick. We all got through the big charity event on Saturday (which turned out well, I think), and then promptly collapsed. I’ve been philosophical about it. I’m going home for the holidays next week, so I’m glad that it is not starting as I’m getting myself onto a plane. Last week would have been a disaster. So, all in all, I’ve accepted this with only slightly more complaint than a normal week—ok, that’s a little bit of a lie because I have been whining quite a bit.
I’m not good as a sick person. I’m not one of those people who really likes a lot of nurturing attention when I’m sick. In fact, I’m more like someone who needs to find an empty cave (aka my tiny, dark apartment) and lick my wounds.
I’m also impatient which makes me an even more delightful companion—unless you actually enjoy hearing how someone’s skin hurts and then you might actually find me quite charming. I have things to do, and I have no time for sick, so occasionally, I like to pretend that I have freakishly gotten over the illness in record time.
Yesterday was one of those special pretend days.
I had to go to the store. Despite the fact that I still had a fever and had just woken up from what turned out to be a 15 hour “nap”, I decided that I just had to convince myself that I was fine and get on with it.
So, I got in the car.
Dumb. Very dumb.
I got to the store without incident. I went in, got my stuff without major drama. Technically speaking, I realized that I didn’t have to go out at all because I remembered that I had already bought the thing I was looking for, but that’s not important. Now I have two.
And then I went out to my car—and noticed that it was still running. And that the keys were, obviously, still in the ignition. But the good news is, the doors were totally locked so no one could steal it.
I swear to you, I just stood there and looked at my running car completely perplexed; as though someone else had committed this act of colossal stupidity on my behalf. I looked around. No one else seemed to be stepping forward to take the blame. And I just stared at it.
Another piece of good news—I never replaced the hardtop on the jeep after it was stolen, so it is a soft top. The bad news is because the back was locked down and still full of stuff from the charity event, getting in the back was not going to happen easily. So, I very calmly, in what I am now calling a walking sleep coma, unzipped the side window.
All good right?
Yeah. Have you seen a jeep? Or better yet, have you seen me? I’m not quite 5’3” tall. The top of the tires are above my waist. So, here I was—apparently completely loopy, with a bag in my hand with stuff I didn’t need (because it would have made sense to put it down) essentially climbing my mountain of a car. The challenge doesn’t stop there because it was a back window and there is a support bar that runs across that window. Not a problem. Apparently, sleep coma girl was very flexible. I managed to angle my body above the bar, then twist and then pull my legs into the car where I very properly shut off the ignition, grabbed the keys, and unlocked the door (admittedly, there was about a minute there where I was hanging and wiggling both inside and outside the car). I continued in my “everything is fine, nothing to see here” fashion into the front seat, out the front door, so I could then re-secure the window…. still holding the bag.
Needless to say, I drove home very slowly, and did not try again until this morning. And yes, I checked, the car is off, and I have my keys.
I think we can officially declare me awesome in every possible way.
Hey, at least I didn’t text message the Ex this time.
Kate, still coughing, but on the mend, in LA
I’m not good as a sick person. I’m not one of those people who really likes a lot of nurturing attention when I’m sick. In fact, I’m more like someone who needs to find an empty cave (aka my tiny, dark apartment) and lick my wounds.
I’m also impatient which makes me an even more delightful companion—unless you actually enjoy hearing how someone’s skin hurts and then you might actually find me quite charming. I have things to do, and I have no time for sick, so occasionally, I like to pretend that I have freakishly gotten over the illness in record time.
Yesterday was one of those special pretend days.
I had to go to the store. Despite the fact that I still had a fever and had just woken up from what turned out to be a 15 hour “nap”, I decided that I just had to convince myself that I was fine and get on with it.
So, I got in the car.
Dumb. Very dumb.
I got to the store without incident. I went in, got my stuff without major drama. Technically speaking, I realized that I didn’t have to go out at all because I remembered that I had already bought the thing I was looking for, but that’s not important. Now I have two.
And then I went out to my car—and noticed that it was still running. And that the keys were, obviously, still in the ignition. But the good news is, the doors were totally locked so no one could steal it.
I swear to you, I just stood there and looked at my running car completely perplexed; as though someone else had committed this act of colossal stupidity on my behalf. I looked around. No one else seemed to be stepping forward to take the blame. And I just stared at it.
Another piece of good news—I never replaced the hardtop on the jeep after it was stolen, so it is a soft top. The bad news is because the back was locked down and still full of stuff from the charity event, getting in the back was not going to happen easily. So, I very calmly, in what I am now calling a walking sleep coma, unzipped the side window.
All good right?
Yeah. Have you seen a jeep? Or better yet, have you seen me? I’m not quite 5’3” tall. The top of the tires are above my waist. So, here I was—apparently completely loopy, with a bag in my hand with stuff I didn’t need (because it would have made sense to put it down) essentially climbing my mountain of a car. The challenge doesn’t stop there because it was a back window and there is a support bar that runs across that window. Not a problem. Apparently, sleep coma girl was very flexible. I managed to angle my body above the bar, then twist and then pull my legs into the car where I very properly shut off the ignition, grabbed the keys, and unlocked the door (admittedly, there was about a minute there where I was hanging and wiggling both inside and outside the car). I continued in my “everything is fine, nothing to see here” fashion into the front seat, out the front door, so I could then re-secure the window…. still holding the bag.
Needless to say, I drove home very slowly, and did not try again until this morning. And yes, I checked, the car is off, and I have my keys.
I think we can officially declare me awesome in every possible way.
Hey, at least I didn’t text message the Ex this time.
Kate, still coughing, but on the mend, in LA
Monday, December 08, 2008
Kizmeet
Periodically, I get asked to check out other bloggers, and I thought this site might intrigue you guys.
If you are interested in hearing from a number of different perspectives on the dating scene outside of Los Angeles, you should check out this blog: http://www.kizmeet.com/blog. The blog is an aggregate blog of sorts – it combines perspectives from different love, dating, sex, romance, etc., bloggers from around the U.S. These people actually date and are both entertaining and informative! Be sure to check them out.
If you are interested in hearing from a number of different perspectives on the dating scene outside of Los Angeles, you should check out this blog: http://www.kizmeet.com/blog. The blog is an aggregate blog of sorts – it combines perspectives from different love, dating, sex, romance, etc., bloggers from around the U.S. These people actually date and are both entertaining and informative! Be sure to check them out.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
The Event
And here's Elvis (aka Frank Spotnitz, writer and executive producer of The X-Files). I have to say, I've rarely been more impressed with someone. Frank is an amazingly classy guy, and it's easy to see why he is a fan favorite.
I love our volunteers. We've gone through the first part of tech and now we're working out the details of getting our beloved Elvis in the building. Here are some early pics.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Well, Sure...
http://www.wlwt.com/news/18196466/detail.html
I saw this headline, and I thought of you guys: "Man Says Wife Was Accidentally Shot During Sex".
Well, who hasn't that happened to? I mean, if I had a dime for every time a gun went off when I was having an intimate moment, I'd...um...yeah, I'd still be broke because this doesn't ever happen.
I had to click on the link just to be sure that he wasn't being euphemistic about a "gun going off".
Nope. He meant it. He "accidentally" shot his estranged wife in the chest when he reached for something on the nightstand.
That's just bad luck, that's what that is. There is nothing worse than reaching over for a condom and shooting your date instead. Obviously, there needs to be a warning label somewhere--maybe on the gun, maybe on the condom. Oh, yes, definitely on the condom: "warning: reaching for this when a loaded gun is in the vicinity of your estranged spouse who has a restraining order out against you, could result in you "accidentally" shooting her". Perfect. That should make the lawyers much happier. After all, he's probably very upset about this "accident" and is getting ready to sue somebody because of the lack of that very warning.
Yeah. Nothing suspect about this statement at all. I have absolutely no doubt that he should get over this mistake in about...oh...10 to 20.
Kate
I saw this headline, and I thought of you guys: "Man Says Wife Was Accidentally Shot During Sex".
Well, who hasn't that happened to? I mean, if I had a dime for every time a gun went off when I was having an intimate moment, I'd...um...yeah, I'd still be broke because this doesn't ever happen.
I had to click on the link just to be sure that he wasn't being euphemistic about a "gun going off".
Nope. He meant it. He "accidentally" shot his estranged wife in the chest when he reached for something on the nightstand.
That's just bad luck, that's what that is. There is nothing worse than reaching over for a condom and shooting your date instead. Obviously, there needs to be a warning label somewhere--maybe on the gun, maybe on the condom. Oh, yes, definitely on the condom: "warning: reaching for this when a loaded gun is in the vicinity of your estranged spouse who has a restraining order out against you, could result in you "accidentally" shooting her". Perfect. That should make the lawyers much happier. After all, he's probably very upset about this "accident" and is getting ready to sue somebody because of the lack of that very warning.
Yeah. Nothing suspect about this statement at all. I have absolutely no doubt that he should get over this mistake in about...oh...10 to 20.
Kate
Saturday, November 29, 2008
That Sounds Like Work
I was wandering through my usual set of AOL alerts, and somehow, I ended up on an article that claims that there are 12 kinds of sex that every couple should have. What can I tell you; you can’t put a headline like that in front of me without me clicking on it.
Plus, I was confused…which should be a surprise to no one. I couldn’t figure out what they meant by “kind of sex”. I mean there are only so many orifices, and I was deeply concerned by the number 12 in this scenario. I mean, if nostril sex is suddenly on the table, I’m out. Seriously. I draw the line at nostril sex.
Imagine my temporary relief when I found out it was more like a “typing” reference. They meant things like “make-up sex” and “quickie sex”. Ok. So, once I banished the disturbing imagery of someone trying to shove something up my nose, I was more open to reading what they had to say.
But my relief was short-lived because this sounds like an awful lot of work. I mean, could I combine some of these? Can “quickie sex” be combined with “all over the house” sex? And do I get credit for the fact that I live in a small one bedroom apartment, so “all over the house” isn’t really all that difficult. Sure, difficult for me because boys don’t speak to me, but in theory, if I was resigned to actually having sex again, we wouldn’t have all that much ground to cover.
My friend Pen thinks I need therapy. This might prove her theory because instead of being mildly intrigued by the possibility of all this sex all over the place, all I could think of was “ugh, sex outside just means dirt and stones in places that shouldn’t worry about dirt and stones… plus, it’s just infection city… where’s the bathroom in this scenario?” Maybe I’m just channeling my inner Liz Lemon, but frankly, I’d be pissed if my mate destroyed my favorite Armani shirt because he thinks it’s “animalistic sex” night when actually it’s “leave me the F alone night”.
It’s not that I don’t see the value in all of this supposed sex. In theory, I do. “Make-up sex” holds particularly lovely memories for me, I think… well, from what hazy recollection I have. But right now, I think the best make-up present from a guy would not involve my shaving, plucking, stretching, stuffing or bleaching. Right now, “make-up sex” would involve him offering to give me a back-rub and then doing all the rest of my weekend work for me. That’s the thing that would leave a satisfied smile on my face.
Kate
Plus, I was confused…which should be a surprise to no one. I couldn’t figure out what they meant by “kind of sex”. I mean there are only so many orifices, and I was deeply concerned by the number 12 in this scenario. I mean, if nostril sex is suddenly on the table, I’m out. Seriously. I draw the line at nostril sex.
Imagine my temporary relief when I found out it was more like a “typing” reference. They meant things like “make-up sex” and “quickie sex”. Ok. So, once I banished the disturbing imagery of someone trying to shove something up my nose, I was more open to reading what they had to say.
But my relief was short-lived because this sounds like an awful lot of work. I mean, could I combine some of these? Can “quickie sex” be combined with “all over the house” sex? And do I get credit for the fact that I live in a small one bedroom apartment, so “all over the house” isn’t really all that difficult. Sure, difficult for me because boys don’t speak to me, but in theory, if I was resigned to actually having sex again, we wouldn’t have all that much ground to cover.
My friend Pen thinks I need therapy. This might prove her theory because instead of being mildly intrigued by the possibility of all this sex all over the place, all I could think of was “ugh, sex outside just means dirt and stones in places that shouldn’t worry about dirt and stones… plus, it’s just infection city… where’s the bathroom in this scenario?” Maybe I’m just channeling my inner Liz Lemon, but frankly, I’d be pissed if my mate destroyed my favorite Armani shirt because he thinks it’s “animalistic sex” night when actually it’s “leave me the F alone night”.
It’s not that I don’t see the value in all of this supposed sex. In theory, I do. “Make-up sex” holds particularly lovely memories for me, I think… well, from what hazy recollection I have. But right now, I think the best make-up present from a guy would not involve my shaving, plucking, stretching, stuffing or bleaching. Right now, “make-up sex” would involve him offering to give me a back-rub and then doing all the rest of my weekend work for me. That’s the thing that would leave a satisfied smile on my face.
Kate
Saturday, November 22, 2008
The Semen Spy
The holidays are clearly upon us. The halls are already decked—actually the winter holiday decorations have been up since October—and people have that festive glow that is probably panic because they’ve realized how little time they have before they can get everything finished. Or maybe that’s just me. But there is no doubt about it, people have their eyes on the prize (or 8 depending on your December inclinations).
Even though it is not yet Thanksgiving, I’ve had the question “what do you want for Christmas”. Frankly, I love this question. It’s so much better than “when are you going to get that damn thing finished” or “you realize your childbearing years are basically over”. The problem is not in the asking, but in the answering. How do I answer that question? I want a career that makes me feel passionately happy on occasion rather than chronically unfulfilled. I want to option this book and have the writer I want agree to do the adaptation for no reason other than he finds me personally intriguing. I want the charity event to be the most amazing thing ever (did I mention that director Rob Bowman is joining Frank Spotnitz for the Q&A), and raise a huge amount of money for NF (which is wildly under-funded for a disease this widespread). I’d like to find a relationship that is immediately comfortable with a man of honor who also finds the war on pubic hair disturbing. The problem is, none of these things fits well into a stocking.
There is one present; however, I really don’t want to receive. Also, don’t ask for it. Ok, maybe you can ask for it because it might be funny, right before it drives you insane. The present? The Semen Spy.
No, I’m not kidding this device actually exists. While it started out as a forensic tool for police departments and detectives, it has crossed over into the commercial world just in time for the holidays. Honestly, I can’t wait to see the ad campaigns. “Gentleman, think your woman is a cheating whore? Buy our product and see the glowing stains to prove it before you throw her skank ass out… also available in green.” Or “think the mailman looks a little too happy when he glances through your door? Before you set the dogs on him, turn out the lights and see the spray”.
I get how using this at the office would make sense. You might be reasonably sure that your husband and his frothy friend aren’t banging on the desk, so if the desk lights up like a Christmas tree for residue, you might have cause for confrontation. But otherwise, I don’t really understand how this is supposed to work for the average jealous mate. From what I can tell, it only shows you where the presence of semen has been. This isn’t television—there is no magical caption that pops that reads “Bob’s sperm—oh, wait, your name isn’t Bob. Burn.” So, guys, you better make darn sure you haven’t been spending some quality time on that couch before you hose it down for a little weekend forensics. Also, ladies, be careful. If you come home and find your man fondling your underwear, he may not have a panty fetish after all. No, he might just be waving a UV wand over Victoria’s Secret before swabbing them for a sample.
God bless relationships and the madness they bring. I mean, how could this possibly go wrong? Oh, and I’d like to point out that thus far, there is no female equivalent. No, ladies, if you are looking for trace vagina evidence on your man’s cigars, you’ll have to wait until next Christmas.
Ah, the holidays. You can just feel the good will flowing, can’t you?
Kate
P.S. I do, however, completely endorse the spy camera with the lens that looks like a dime. I’d like one of those, please.
Even though it is not yet Thanksgiving, I’ve had the question “what do you want for Christmas”. Frankly, I love this question. It’s so much better than “when are you going to get that damn thing finished” or “you realize your childbearing years are basically over”. The problem is not in the asking, but in the answering. How do I answer that question? I want a career that makes me feel passionately happy on occasion rather than chronically unfulfilled. I want to option this book and have the writer I want agree to do the adaptation for no reason other than he finds me personally intriguing. I want the charity event to be the most amazing thing ever (did I mention that director Rob Bowman is joining Frank Spotnitz for the Q&A), and raise a huge amount of money for NF (which is wildly under-funded for a disease this widespread). I’d like to find a relationship that is immediately comfortable with a man of honor who also finds the war on pubic hair disturbing. The problem is, none of these things fits well into a stocking.
There is one present; however, I really don’t want to receive. Also, don’t ask for it. Ok, maybe you can ask for it because it might be funny, right before it drives you insane. The present? The Semen Spy.
No, I’m not kidding this device actually exists. While it started out as a forensic tool for police departments and detectives, it has crossed over into the commercial world just in time for the holidays. Honestly, I can’t wait to see the ad campaigns. “Gentleman, think your woman is a cheating whore? Buy our product and see the glowing stains to prove it before you throw her skank ass out… also available in green.” Or “think the mailman looks a little too happy when he glances through your door? Before you set the dogs on him, turn out the lights and see the spray”.
I get how using this at the office would make sense. You might be reasonably sure that your husband and his frothy friend aren’t banging on the desk, so if the desk lights up like a Christmas tree for residue, you might have cause for confrontation. But otherwise, I don’t really understand how this is supposed to work for the average jealous mate. From what I can tell, it only shows you where the presence of semen has been. This isn’t television—there is no magical caption that pops that reads “Bob’s sperm—oh, wait, your name isn’t Bob. Burn.” So, guys, you better make darn sure you haven’t been spending some quality time on that couch before you hose it down for a little weekend forensics. Also, ladies, be careful. If you come home and find your man fondling your underwear, he may not have a panty fetish after all. No, he might just be waving a UV wand over Victoria’s Secret before swabbing them for a sample.
God bless relationships and the madness they bring. I mean, how could this possibly go wrong? Oh, and I’d like to point out that thus far, there is no female equivalent. No, ladies, if you are looking for trace vagina evidence on your man’s cigars, you’ll have to wait until next Christmas.
Ah, the holidays. You can just feel the good will flowing, can’t you?
Kate
P.S. I do, however, completely endorse the spy camera with the lens that looks like a dime. I’d like one of those, please.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
I’m Not Sure That’s What Fate Meant
That fate thing has a wicked sense of humor. When I pulled out items from the grab bag of fate, I was happy to have a mission, but expressed a bit of disappointment. I had planned for these to be huge, life-changing action plans, but what I got were things that I had probably planned on doing anyway. Little did I know that while not dramatically life-changing yet, the items have started to take on lives of their own.
Take this one: Attend Charity Events and Actually Converse with Strangers at Event. Sounds simple, right? I’m a giver. My one big skill in life is writing checks. I’m not a poet or a song writer, but give me a checkbook, and I can make it sing. I do also attend charity events, but I sit in the back, and if there are strangers around, I hide behind a well-placed plant.
But fate has a sense of humor, and I’m not sure exactly how I’m going to hide at this one.
I’ve gotten involved with a great group of ladies who are actual “doers”—and no, get your heads out of the gutter right now, that’s not what I mean! I mean, that when they have an idea, they make it happen. That’s a pretty rare skill. I meet a lot of people who have good ideas, and then never pursue them (including me). I meet a lot of people who say they are going to do something, and then they disappear. But these ladies—these ladies mean business. And there is no way I’m going to be able to hide from strangers.
What is the event?
Take this one: Attend Charity Events and Actually Converse with Strangers at Event. Sounds simple, right? I’m a giver. My one big skill in life is writing checks. I’m not a poet or a song writer, but give me a checkbook, and I can make it sing. I do also attend charity events, but I sit in the back, and if there are strangers around, I hide behind a well-placed plant.
But fate has a sense of humor, and I’m not sure exactly how I’m going to hide at this one.
I’ve gotten involved with a great group of ladies who are actual “doers”—and no, get your heads out of the gutter right now, that’s not what I mean! I mean, that when they have an idea, they make it happen. That’s a pretty rare skill. I meet a lot of people who have good ideas, and then never pursue them (including me). I meet a lot of people who say they are going to do something, and then they disappear. But these ladies—these ladies mean business. And there is no way I’m going to be able to hide from strangers.
What is the event?
THE "INSPIRED BY GILLIAN" TEAM PROUDLY ANNOUNCES SPECIAL GUEST APPEARANCES BY THE X-FILES' EXEC. PROD. & WRITER FRANK SPOTNITZ AND DIRECTOR ROB BOWMAN!!
MR. SPOTNITZ AND MR. BOWMAN WILL ENGAGE ATTENDEES IN A 30 MIN. Q&A AT THE SCREENING EVENT, MODERATED BY TV GUIDE'S ERIN FOX!!
Please join the "Inspired By" Gillian" team, in association with 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment, for The X-Files double-feature charity screening extravaganza!! In order to celebrate the release of The X-Files: I Want To Believe and on DVD/Blu-Ray and to honour Gillian Anderson's talent and philanthropy, we will be holding a fundraiser screening of FIGHT THE FUTURE and I WANT TO BELIEVE back-to-back!!
This is a charity event being held to solely benefit the organisation Neurofibromatosis, Inc. 100% of the proceeds from the screening will be sent in Ms. Anderson's name on behalf of Philes worldwide.WHEN -&- WHERE
Time:
Saturday, December 6, 2008 from 2:30pm - 7:30pmLocation: Regency Fairfax Theatre
Street: 7907 Beverly Blvd.
City/Town: Los Angeles, CACONTACT
INFO.xfscreeningevent@inspiredbygillian.com
TICKETS: Tickets are on sale now at $50 per person and include:
*Q&A with Frank Spotnitz and Rob Bowman moderated by TV Guide’s Erin Fox
*screening of Fight The Future
*screening of I Want To Believe
*popcorn and soda
*commemorative programme
*a brief speech from a representative from Neurofibromatosis, Inc., who will also be on hand to distribute information and answer any questions.
*your name and brief note included in the letter and event scrapbook being sent to Ms. Anderson.
I can’t even begin to tell you how all of this happened. I’m not sure any of us anticipated how incredibly generous Gillian Anderson was going to be. I’m not sure any of us anticipated how available and generous Frank Spotnitz and Rob Bowman were going to be. I’m positive no one saw Fox Home Entertainment giving us a call.
Hollywood tends to get a bad rap. The image is of a place that is pretty selfish or at least entirely self-serving, and not particularly interested in the “nobody”. But, knock on wood, all we’ve encountered so far are extremely helpful, interested people—and that’s all the way down the line from assistants to managers to business partners to the studio to the “creatives” themselves.
I think you should all come out for the event!! But if you can’t come out to see me potentially pass out when forced to speak to strangers (an event, in and of itself that should not be missed), but you are interested in helping out the charity, there are a couple of ways you can do that, too:
http://allthings.inspiredbygillian.com/xfmoviesscreening
And if that’s not your thing, how about an auction of memorabilia?MILES ADRIFT, INCHES APART
Can't make it to the event? Purchase the
long-distance package for $20 which includes:
*information from Neurofibromatosis, Inc.
*one commemorative event programme
*your name and brief note included in the letter and event scrapbook being sent to Ms. Anderson.
http://allthings.inspiredbygillian.com/auction
I hope to see you guys at the event. And if not at the event, I hope to see you jumping into the bidding fray.All proceeds will go to NF, Inc. in tandem with the screening event, on behalf of Philes worldwide in honour of Gillian Anderson.
We are very excited to have nine signed photos from Gillian Anderson available for auction. The first wave will commence on Friday, November 14th, 2008. The photos will be available for bidding three at a time, along with beautiful I Want To Believe trading card sets donated by the lovely Jacqueline Lopez, a friend and fellow Phile.
We will be adding more items each week.Please keep checking back frequently for auction news and updates!!
***
currently available for this wave of biddingGillian Anderson signed editorial shot: http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=170279341153
Gillian Anderson signed promo photo for The X-Files: Fight the Future:
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=170279340431Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny dual-autographed promo photo from The
X-Files: I Want to Believe:
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=170279338877
Also, if you could pray that I don’t have a complete panic attack between now and then, that would be great, too.
Deep breath in… deep breath out…deep breath in… deep breath out…
Kate
Monday, November 10, 2008
Wrong!
Well, that’s just wrong! Sark-A-Like and I have been divided by cruel fate. He has been taken away to Department 1A—which sounds vaguely sinister and akin to being drafted into some type of clandestine service to plan for world domination. Of course, he’ll hear none of those plans because of that earphone fetish he seems to be sporting. But no matter! Sure, I can hope that they reject him in a way that I never would, and send him back to the assembly room. But what if they don’t? Tragedy.
Jury Duty
Are there two words that make you groan more often than “jury duty”? It’s not that I don’t understand my civic obligations. I do. But I appear to be the State of California’s favorite juror. This is my fifth summons in seven years. I think we can all agree that this is a tad excessive. For the first time ever, I nearly contemplated shredding it when it came. None of my friends get called as often as I do.
Then you know what everyone said to me? Don’t worry, they’ll never pick you. They never pick smart or outspoken people to be on juries. It’s bad for the defense.
Well, on the one hand, that’s very sweet that they think I’m smart and outspoken. On the other hand, I’ve been placed on a jury twice. So, um… yeah.
I’d like to say that among my highlights of jury service has been the meeting of wonderful men, full of dating potential. Not so much. I do remember a particularly lovely person a couple of years ago—juror #8. I never knew his name, and he was not placed on the jury. I watched him walk out of the room with a deep sadness. I spent the next two weeks wishing that both his intellect and his lovely eyes were still around.
Today had some promise. As usual, I walked through the hall in my own world. I sat down on a bench waiting for the doors to the assembly room to open. Much to my delight when I did clue in, I noticed that I was sitting next to a man who looked suspiciously like the man who played Sark on Alias.
Things were looking up.
True to form, Sark-A-Like has shown absolutely no interest. I’ve smiled, and he’s looked down. I’ve said things like “thank you” and “excuse me”, and he’s nodded. He’s talked to the guy on the other side of him. He’s talked to the woman in front of him. He has not looked at me.
He has no ring. He’s a little young, but I’m revising my age restrictions in both directions anyway—at this point, I can’t afford to be too specific. He’s clean and presentable, but not metro. He appears to have an unhealthy obsession with his iPod, though.
Short of hitting Sark-A-Like on the back of the head, I’m out of ideas. Plus, I understand that California’s jury system frowns upon anything that resembles actual acts of violence in the jury room. I know—picky, picky, picky. I mean, they drag us down here, and then they severely limit the entertainment factor.
Any words of wisdom from the peanut gallery on this pressing matter of national, strategic importance?
Kate, hoping to be in this jury room all day
Then you know what everyone said to me? Don’t worry, they’ll never pick you. They never pick smart or outspoken people to be on juries. It’s bad for the defense.
Well, on the one hand, that’s very sweet that they think I’m smart and outspoken. On the other hand, I’ve been placed on a jury twice. So, um… yeah.
I’d like to say that among my highlights of jury service has been the meeting of wonderful men, full of dating potential. Not so much. I do remember a particularly lovely person a couple of years ago—juror #8. I never knew his name, and he was not placed on the jury. I watched him walk out of the room with a deep sadness. I spent the next two weeks wishing that both his intellect and his lovely eyes were still around.
Today had some promise. As usual, I walked through the hall in my own world. I sat down on a bench waiting for the doors to the assembly room to open. Much to my delight when I did clue in, I noticed that I was sitting next to a man who looked suspiciously like the man who played Sark on Alias.
Things were looking up.
True to form, Sark-A-Like has shown absolutely no interest. I’ve smiled, and he’s looked down. I’ve said things like “thank you” and “excuse me”, and he’s nodded. He’s talked to the guy on the other side of him. He’s talked to the woman in front of him. He has not looked at me.
He has no ring. He’s a little young, but I’m revising my age restrictions in both directions anyway—at this point, I can’t afford to be too specific. He’s clean and presentable, but not metro. He appears to have an unhealthy obsession with his iPod, though.
Short of hitting Sark-A-Like on the back of the head, I’m out of ideas. Plus, I understand that California’s jury system frowns upon anything that resembles actual acts of violence in the jury room. I know—picky, picky, picky. I mean, they drag us down here, and then they severely limit the entertainment factor.
Any words of wisdom from the peanut gallery on this pressing matter of national, strategic importance?
Kate, hoping to be in this jury room all day
Thursday, November 06, 2008
It Sounded Like A Good Idea At The Time
I’m confident when I say that none of us are perfect beings. I’m relatively sure that most of us can say that there have been incidents in our lives that we look back upon with chagrin. Some of us have probably had close calls, and somehow the whims of the universe managed not to slap us down—we may have even learned something in the process.
But this guy… well, it probably sounded like a good idea at the time. In the off chance that you also have homes with some debris that needs clearing, please keep this one salient fact in mind: never, ever use a blowtorch to get rid of cobwebs.
http://www.cbs46.com/news/17919628/detail.html
Confess—how many times have you done something ridiculous and had the moment of realization after the fact? What is your “it sounded like a good idea at the time” moment?
For me, I remember hitchhiking in the Soviet Union with a group of people after getting stranded on an adventure that we shouldn’t have been on in the first place. While an effective way to get back to the hotel before the bridges were raised—it was probably not the safest means of transport. When we finally got back the hotel, I do remember thinking “wow, that was incredibly stupid”. Youth. It’s my only excuse.
Kate
But this guy… well, it probably sounded like a good idea at the time. In the off chance that you also have homes with some debris that needs clearing, please keep this one salient fact in mind: never, ever use a blowtorch to get rid of cobwebs.
http://www.cbs46.com/news/17919628/detail.html
Confess—how many times have you done something ridiculous and had the moment of realization after the fact? What is your “it sounded like a good idea at the time” moment?
For me, I remember hitchhiking in the Soviet Union with a group of people after getting stranded on an adventure that we shouldn’t have been on in the first place. While an effective way to get back to the hotel before the bridges were raised—it was probably not the safest means of transport. When we finally got back the hotel, I do remember thinking “wow, that was incredibly stupid”. Youth. It’s my only excuse.
Kate
I Kid You Not
Little did I know that I had stumbled on to the new hot topic in dating: the affair. Check out this TMZ article:
http://www.tmz.com/2008/11/06/dating-site-for-cheaters-scores/
That’s right; the tag line is “Life is Short. Have an Affair.” That lovely ad, complete with sentiment, will be running in Super Bowl programs – I guess we can at least be glad that they don’t have air time yet. Thank goodness the Super Bowl is never a family event…. oh, wait. On the upside, it could signal a valuable lesson for the kids about betrayal and how people have the morals of muskrats (side note, apologies to muskrats as you may actually have deeply profound morals, unlike the people who frequent those cheating websites, and I am just unaware of them.)
Well, thank goodness all of us heterosexuals are busy supporting the sanctity of marriage. If you just lost your marriage to the ridiculousness of Prop 8 here in California, you must really love seeing this.
What the hell is wrong with people?
http://www.tmz.com/2008/11/06/dating-site-for-cheaters-scores/
That’s right; the tag line is “Life is Short. Have an Affair.” That lovely ad, complete with sentiment, will be running in Super Bowl programs – I guess we can at least be glad that they don’t have air time yet. Thank goodness the Super Bowl is never a family event…. oh, wait. On the upside, it could signal a valuable lesson for the kids about betrayal and how people have the morals of muskrats (side note, apologies to muskrats as you may actually have deeply profound morals, unlike the people who frequent those cheating websites, and I am just unaware of them.)
Well, thank goodness all of us heterosexuals are busy supporting the sanctity of marriage. If you just lost your marriage to the ridiculousness of Prop 8 here in California, you must really love seeing this.
What the hell is wrong with people?
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Should I Take That Personally?
What is it with the ads that adorn my pages these days? Check out the one I found on my Myspace page the other day:
"We Delete Members Unfit to Date".
Wow. Because my self-esteem in the dating arena isn’t shaky enough, now I have to worry about being rejected as “unfit to date”.
How the hell do they determine whether or not someone is unfit to date? I mean are they using criteria like criminal records? If a person has been convicted on multiple counts of rape, the liability issues alone might make that person look like a bad candidate. That would make sense to me. Maybe this particular service is just really looking out for its customers. Maybe you have to submit blood tests and social security numbers so they can screen out for STDs and nefarious deeds (and existing marriage licenses). All those things would be helpful. I might even be tempted (might, I said might!) to consider giving them a shot.
However…
Why do I get a feeling that in actuality the dating service is more like the modern day version of the junior high school slam book? I have this image of a bunch of bitchy high school girls sitting around saying things like:
How the hell do they determine whether or not someone is unfit to date? I mean are they using criteria like criminal records? If a person has been convicted on multiple counts of rape, the liability issues alone might make that person look like a bad candidate. That would make sense to me. Maybe this particular service is just really looking out for its customers. Maybe you have to submit blood tests and social security numbers so they can screen out for STDs and nefarious deeds (and existing marriage licenses). All those things would be helpful. I might even be tempted (might, I said might!) to consider giving them a shot.
However…
Why do I get a feeling that in actuality the dating service is more like the modern day version of the junior high school slam book? I have this image of a bunch of bitchy high school girls sitting around saying things like:
“OH EM GEE, did you see her profile picture? That shirt was totally last season. She’s going to drag our numbers down.”
Or
“I can’t believe this girl didn’t think to get her teeth capped before taking that profile photo. Next!”
Or
“I heard from Stacey’s mom’s brother’s ex-boyfriend’s assistant gardener that she might still have pubic hair, and she’s never bleached her anus. What the F? She’s totally unfit to live, let alone date.”
No, I’m not just looking for excuses not to try online dating. Why would you say that?
Kate
Kate
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
That Ad Says What?
I’m not a big fan of adultery. Don’t believe me?
My friend Pen was having a bit of a sleep, and the dream that filtered through was of Pen having (no doubt) deep and meaningful conversation with a certain married actor. Apparently, this moment of great intellectual discourse with the man who once played someone tall, dark and spooky became… um… romantic. But just as she was moving from osculating to something a bit more horizontal, she stopped. And she told him “no, I can’t.” Why? She claims to have heard a little voice in her head saying “this is wrong—he’s married”. That’s right. She heard me. From that day on, she has referred to me as “Kate, the Fantasy Killer”. It’s a moniker I take great pride in, mostly because I like to be difficult (t-shirts will be available in the lobby). For some reason, she was slightly less amused that I’m moralizing in her dreams, but hey… we’ve all got a calling.
Anyway, with certain exceptions (and I’m betting some of you can figure out what those are), I’m not someone who is going to enable that kind of extracurricular activity. So, imagine my shock when I saw this ad running on my blog about the lovely and talented Bonnie Hunt, courtesy of Google:
My friend Pen was having a bit of a sleep, and the dream that filtered through was of Pen having (no doubt) deep and meaningful conversation with a certain married actor. Apparently, this moment of great intellectual discourse with the man who once played someone tall, dark and spooky became… um… romantic. But just as she was moving from osculating to something a bit more horizontal, she stopped. And she told him “no, I can’t.” Why? She claims to have heard a little voice in her head saying “this is wrong—he’s married”. That’s right. She heard me. From that day on, she has referred to me as “Kate, the Fantasy Killer”. It’s a moniker I take great pride in, mostly because I like to be difficult (t-shirts will be available in the lobby). For some reason, she was slightly less amused that I’m moralizing in her dreams, but hey… we’ve all got a calling.
Anyway, with certain exceptions (and I’m betting some of you can figure out what those are), I’m not someone who is going to enable that kind of extracurricular activity. So, imagine my shock when I saw this ad running on my blog about the lovely and talented Bonnie Hunt, courtesy of Google:
Nice. How about an ad that says:
- “Married, but feel unfulfilled—talk to your spouse”
- “Married, but feel unfulfilled because you are a selfish bastard”
- “Married, but think the world is yours to screw with because you’re completely entitled to be the center of the universe”
- “Married, but you don’t think the rules apply to you”
- “Married, but took those vows to be more like helpful suggestions than anything truly binding”
- “Married, but because she’s working, taking care of the kids and the house, she didn’t spend enough time oooh and ahhhhing over your stupid court case-- so you think it’s ok to hook up with someone who will be more suitably impressed with you?”
- “Married, but like the idea of splitting everything you own because you live in a community property state”
- “Married, but miss the possibility of catching an STD that makes your dick shrivel”
- “Married, but your picture of your life always involved someone much younger and blonde, and what the heck, you’ve earned her”
- “Married, but getting a promotion, and your current wife doesn’t match your new office”
Kate, The Fantasy Killer (and just slightly disgusted)
Monday, October 27, 2008
Bonnie Hunt Show
Bonnie did a recent segment on her new talk show where she was reunited with an old crush. Apparently, she had been talking on the show about a man she used to see in the old neighborhood. Her producers were let loose (those rapscallions!), and they end up reuniting her not just with the old crush, but all the guys in that crew on the show.
The experience was so great for her, that she has decided that she wants to do it for viewers. If you have an old crush, old flame, old casual object of daydreaming desire, she would like you to write in to her show at bonniehunt.com and give her the details.
Wow. Hands up if you think I could really get myself into trouble with this. I mean, what if I said I had a crush as a younger woman on … um… George Clooney. ;) She never specified that it had to be a person with whom I spent significant time. It’s not like he and I haven’t had some interaction. I spent some long shooting days on the same set as the delightful Mr. Duchovny. Does that count? I took Pen to see Alex O’Loughlin at Paley, so technically I spent several hours with him, too. Also, I have spent countless hours watching the work of these fine men. It just seems wrong to discount all of those positive memories in favor of a technicality.
Now if you want to be a stickler for the rules (whatever), I’m not sure who I would pick. I’m fairly certain it would be a bad idea to select any of my actual ex-boyfriends—either because there were excellent reasons to get the hell away from them, or because they have since married (and wives just don’t seem to embrace these reunions for some reason). I outgrew most of my teen crushes within days/weeks regardless of the circumstances. I’m sure there were some school girl crushes, but I can’t even remember those names.
How about you guys? If she continues to unfairly discriminate against uniting us with celebrity crushes, is there someone (or several someones—I don’t judge… ok, I totally do, but not in this case) who you’d submit? Because if there is, you need to go to bonniehunt.com right now and submit your story. I need to live vicariously through you.
Kate
The experience was so great for her, that she has decided that she wants to do it for viewers. If you have an old crush, old flame, old casual object of daydreaming desire, she would like you to write in to her show at bonniehunt.com and give her the details.
Wow. Hands up if you think I could really get myself into trouble with this. I mean, what if I said I had a crush as a younger woman on … um… George Clooney. ;) She never specified that it had to be a person with whom I spent significant time. It’s not like he and I haven’t had some interaction. I spent some long shooting days on the same set as the delightful Mr. Duchovny. Does that count? I took Pen to see Alex O’Loughlin at Paley, so technically I spent several hours with him, too. Also, I have spent countless hours watching the work of these fine men. It just seems wrong to discount all of those positive memories in favor of a technicality.
Now if you want to be a stickler for the rules (whatever), I’m not sure who I would pick. I’m fairly certain it would be a bad idea to select any of my actual ex-boyfriends—either because there were excellent reasons to get the hell away from them, or because they have since married (and wives just don’t seem to embrace these reunions for some reason). I outgrew most of my teen crushes within days/weeks regardless of the circumstances. I’m sure there were some school girl crushes, but I can’t even remember those names.
How about you guys? If she continues to unfairly discriminate against uniting us with celebrity crushes, is there someone (or several someones—I don’t judge… ok, I totally do, but not in this case) who you’d submit? Because if there is, you need to go to bonniehunt.com right now and submit your story. I need to live vicariously through you.
Kate
Sunday, October 19, 2008
5 Months: The Drawing
So, we left piece of the next five months of my life up to fate. I have to admit, I found the idea kind of exciting. I added many options ranging from the easy (“go back to dance class”) to the slightly more difficult (“become a ninja”).
It didn’t turn out like I thought it would.
I thought I’d be faced with huge life choices because let’s face it, becoming a ninja would probably take hard work and some training. Instead, fate had me grab some things that are going to be a challenge to quantify and all in line with things I probably would have done anyway.
What does that mean?
Check out the video for the drawing results:
So, there you have it:
1. Go Back to Dance Class. Physically and, probably, emotionally, this is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. I stopped dancing about a year and a half ago. Some of the hesitance to return is based on physical limitations, and some of it was just feeling overscheduled. I dropped the class and kept promising to go back once my life loosened up a bit. That never happened. I guess Fate has decided it’s time.
2. Sell or Produce the Kate Dating web-series. We’ve talked about this from time to time. I’ve started writing it. But I must admit that I keep second guessing it. Grant it, it’s a fictionalization, but it will require me to make some changes to my actual life. And if it’s successful, that will require some even bigger choices to be made. Clearly, Fate has spoken, though. Onward!
3. At Least Once A Week, Open Mind to New Ideas (and say “yes”). This one was added at the last moment by a friend of mine at work. I’m not sure how we’re going to quantify this exactly, but I suppose it means that once a week, I’ll have to do the opposite of my instinctual response (which is always “no”). We’ll see how this one goes.
Because the first one is reasonably easy to achieve, I did end up drawing a fourth.
4. Attend Charity Events and Actually Converse with Strangers at Event. This seems like an easy one, doesn’t it? Obviously, you’ve heard about me attending various charity events (like Clooney’s premiere) so you’d think this one would be a gimme. The trick here is that I have to once again countermand my natural instinct to avoid speaking to the people in attendance. Like Ricky Gervais’ character in Ghost Town says “it’s not that I hate crowds, it’s that I hate the people in them”. Kidding, I don’t hate all of them. I just tend to avoid awkward interactions, and I have no ability to strike up conversations with strangers (ok, unless it’s X-Files related, and then I’m practically Anderson Cooper).
So, these are the things that Fate decided for me. I have to say, part of me was really cheering for “be a ninja”, so I think in some ways I’m disappointed. Maybe I was hoping Fate would force me to make the huge alterations to my life that, in my more rational phases, I can’t decide to make on my own. Maybe the key is to take these initial options and really make them into big moments.
Stay tuned.
P.S. I'd like to point out that there were a number of "dating x,y,z" cards in the bag, and none of them came up. Even Fate thinks that my dating is too much to ask.
Kate
http://katedating.blogspot.com
http://cafepress.com/katedating
katedating@yahoo.com
Friday, October 17, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Last Minute Suggestions
Get your last minute suggestions in for my new life campaign before noon tomorrow! The dart board of fate goes live at that point. I have 12 possible options right now for changing the direction of certain elements of my life. I'll let you know the three winners this weekend.
And no-- I will not add Duchovny to my dart board of fate following his separation. But I like where your heads are at. Keep them coming!
And no-- I will not add Duchovny to my dart board of fate following his separation. But I like where your heads are at. Keep them coming!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The XF3 Tease
Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the waters... or in my case, back to the blog, The X-Files and another movie become a slightly bigger possibility. Sure, it's early days, and this could just be deflection.
But...
http://www.moviehole.net/200816094-another-x-files-movie
...
FOX chairman Tom Rothman told IESB today that, despite the lackluster performance of the latter, there's still the possibility of another - and he's leaving it up to the cast and crew as to whether they'd like to see that happen.
‘'It's really up to Chris [Carter], David [Duchovny] and Gillian [Anderson]", Rothman tells the site. ...
===
So, in addition to all the other suggestions you have sent for my dart board of fate (which should be ready on Friday), I'm adding "get cast in XF3". It is true that I wont be able to achieve that in the next 5 months, but I could start the process of making it possible. Yep, it's going on a card on that board!
Now, all I need to know is how to best go about groveling to make this happen...
But...
http://www.moviehole.net/200816094-another-x-files-movie
...
FOX chairman Tom Rothman told IESB today that, despite the lackluster performance of the latter, there's still the possibility of another - and he's leaving it up to the cast and crew as to whether they'd like to see that happen.
‘'It's really up to Chris [Carter], David [Duchovny] and Gillian [Anderson]", Rothman tells the site. ...
===
So, in addition to all the other suggestions you have sent for my dart board of fate (which should be ready on Friday), I'm adding "get cast in XF3". It is true that I wont be able to achieve that in the next 5 months, but I could start the process of making it possible. Yep, it's going on a card on that board!
Now, all I need to know is how to best go about groveling to make this happen...
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