tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79531951665826985202024-03-05T14:51:25.172-08:00Desperate for CoffeeKatiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-20176609060463124752011-02-28T14:19:00.000-08:002011-03-05T17:12:09.925-08:00Moving<div style="text-align: center;">I've currently moved <a href="http://cockamamiecarnival.wordpress.com/">here </a>.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's a personal decision to completely start over. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I hope ya'll join me for funnies, coffee and a little bit of sass.<br />
<br />
**UPDATE**<br />
<br />
Now moved <a href="http://cockamamie-carnival.blogspot.com/">here </a></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-10044422320002714842011-02-24T16:17:00.000-08:002011-02-24T16:17:26.234-08:00Murphy's Law<div style="text-align: center;">Important appointment at 9am and a major job interview at 1pm.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.buffalonews.com/weather/article350499.ece" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1SE42wFRAj17fbUAg94drr7wqxvc8FrXXu_FdVScxMn8SGoIy5mOoN0AEicY9wksRkWfvddt_IkuM2VhET20pHYwWZKf5jkEScip-D85byU0I10K878sTgp7zr3hAvn87Vfd07ba0JPFT/s1600/Winter.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Via. <a href="http://www.buffalonews.com/weather/article350499.ece">Buffalo News</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yeah... that's how it's gonna be tomorrow. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My grandmother's got the entire church praying for me to find a job and my close friend in North Carolina has a million candles burning in his house. Everyone is rooting for me, expect for the weather.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I hate snow. I really do. It's like the burden that keeps us going here though. Us buffaloians are miserable people who in the winter time, you just don't want to approach. The attitude I can deal with, on a daily basis. It's the driving. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's the sliding when you want to stop. The holding your breath at every intersection because not only <b>you </b>can't stop, neither can <b>anyone else</b>. It's the person doing 90 mph in the bad weather and then stop right on your bumper expecting you to speed up. It's the not being able to see the stop signs or lights, or other cars. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's scary. Very scary and if it wasn't for the prospect of me getting a great wonderful job close to home and the appointment that will help my family out during my unemployment, I would be curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wish me luck and say a little prayer. For the job, and for safe driving. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-24953289393257474752011-02-19T20:38:00.000-08:002011-02-19T20:38:43.368-08:00Alright...So they say.. even though I don't know who "they" are... when shit hits the fan, it spreads. The start of the new year I had a lot of dreams and wishful thinking that this bullshit would end and life would move on to normal. No. It didn't.<br />
<br />
And I lost my job.<br />
<br />
I didn't think it would of been huge. I'm a complete jack of all trades but quickly realized that I'm a jack in the box. A box which won't open with a crowbar and some WD40 to save it's life. Financially, I'm a mess. Emotionally, I'm a mess. But looking at the good parts of all of this, I have actually spent some quality time with my son. Deciding what I want in life and what I can get in life are two completely different things. Knowing that my family and friends are truly the best people.<br />
<br />
SO!!!!!...<br />
<br />
I'm still looking.. and looking... and my butt got numb today sitting on the floor with the laptop at my sister's house.<br />
<br />
It better be worth it.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-6119580602301970122010-12-28T22:56:00.001-08:002010-12-28T22:56:39.264-08:00Change<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Aparajita","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Change...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Aparajita","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;">In just a few short days 2010 will be over. I can't imagine what has changed in this past year. I kinda stopped writing and I want to apologize but can’t. Everything that happened after that, it was a mess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It still is a mess. So much of a mess it’s going to take a while to clean up, even with my lazy ass.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Aparajita","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;">One thing that has majorly changed. I’m not going to censor. There is no holding back here. You don’t like it, get out. My life is fucked up, entirely. Welcome to it and be amazed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Aparajita","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;">So in July of this year. I met a man. This man was someone who kept me alive for a few times… kept me going. I’m young, stupidly in love sometimes. Love can blind you like nothing in the world. It shines more than the sun, burning your eyes to the point where you can’t see anything beyond that. Your brain wants to tell you to look away but it just seems so beautiful. Until you feel the pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Aparajita","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Like I said, my life is kinda fucked up right now. Nothing really has made a step towards greatness yet. I’m hoping that this new year is going to make a good step forward. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Aparajita","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;">So keep in touch with wishing good lucks and all of that. I’ll be needing it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-77883423060919792142010-09-15T20:39:00.000-07:002010-09-15T20:39:54.204-07:00Gravity - Falling from Earth.So this is what happened. I'm going to make this as short as possible because it's been a few months and my head hurts.<br />
<br />
So party at my house. Honestly, it was great. From what I can remember. Tequila and Jack Daniels do NOT go hand in hand together. I got hit with a bottle rocket in the face and don't remember it. Bad huh? Well, I realized how much of a mess I was getting into.Sober words are drunken thoughts. My now ex came home and ordered everyone to go home. All so that he can sit on the couch and drink by himself. We ended up going to a fireworks show (No, I wasn't driving). Came back and talked a little. My ex said a few choice words, ended up leaving with the car for a little while, and me freaking out thinking he was going to get into a accident.<br />
<br />
I know that it's not politically correct to start talking to another guy on a nightly basis like I had been. It was more of a "I know you like me, I'm just trying to keep this friends, ya you're a cool guy". One day, I basically said ketchup this, I'm going to do it. At my best friend's son's birthday, we talked, we kissed, we fell in love.<br />
I tried to calm it down, but my heart and brain just wouldn't let it happen.<br />
<br />
I let my ex know how I felt. What happened, the whole sha-bang.<br />
<br />
It was more a decision that I felt that he didn't want to be in my son's life. It really had 95% nothing to do with what happened or that I fell in love with someone else. I know it seems like I'm making excuses, but it's more of that situation, you have to be there to understand.<br />
<br />
My ex and I since the beginning of May have been talking about nothing more than work. We work for the same company, see each other everyday. The romance died. I talked to him countless times about the fact that I didn't want to go home, and talk about what happened that day at work. It would be different if we worked on different floors, or different departments, but we don't. When we'd go out to dinner or some-place out on a date, that's all we'd talk about.<br />
<br />
The part about my son. I confirmed this the other day, he wanted to come home and have my son go straight to bed. Now, I don't work a early shift. I get out about 9pm and pick up my son around 10, then go home. I would like to spend some time with him before bed, but my scheduling is going to change soon. I asked him why he wanted him to go to bed as soon as we get home, he stated that he wanted some peace and quiet and not have to deal with him.<br />
<br />
That confirmed it. What I've been feeling for years. When we first met, he told me he didn't want kids. At that time, I didn't want anymore either. But things changed, and I just started wanting to have another. He stuck with his decision, and then some.<br />
<br />
With "him" because I don't want to disclose his name just yet. It's utterly amazing. Basically, I need to tell him to get out of my head sometimes because we think so alike. He's older than me, a divorcee like me. Has two kids, wants another one. Loves my son to pieces and would do anything for him. The reason why I know that this is something that he's not just doing to please me, like the ex, is because he's known my son longer than I've known him. An acquaintance of my ex-husband. When I say it's a small world, it's a really really small world, especially in Buffalo.<br />
<br />
So that's the drama of my life. I'm happy finally with someone completely no drawbacks or second thoughts. We're getting an apartment in November and starting our life together. I know it looks like I'm jumping from one guy to another but if you have that feeling with someone, like gravity, you can't just let it go. <br />
<br />
I just can't let him go.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-42006303279387066592010-07-28T00:21:00.000-07:002010-07-28T00:21:16.202-07:00Semper<div style="text-align: center;">Hey Katie… how have you been?<br />
<i><br />
Busy… like crazy busy. Like I think I’m losing my brain busy.</i><br />
<br />
Wow, that sounds stressful.<br />
<br />
<i>You have no idea.</i><br />
<br />
This is the conversation I’ve been dealing with for maybe the past three weeks. A few aspects will contribute to this though.<br />
<br />
A. I got a temporary promotion. It sounds weird and it is. I’m basically taking care of the new employees and making sure that they don’t quit. Which really isn’t working right now since a few of them left already. Like never came back. There’s a black-hole somewhere in Buffalo where my employees just fall into.<br />
<br />
I really shouldn’t joke about that, this area has a common annoyance of nuclear problems left from people who are dumb-asses and don’t know how to take care of their waste. It’s nasty<br />
<br />
Anywhoo, the hours are the same but I’ve gone from sitting on my ass for 8 hrs straight to walking my ass 8 hrs straight. It’s good, I think I lost a pant size already.<br />
<br />
B. It’s the summer. During the summer, I’m usually non-existent. Most people wonder where I am, a lot. <br />
<br />
I hide.<br />
<br />
Seriously though, this area has 4 months of sunshine and then we all turn into evil little bastards who don’t like the world. Snow does hideous things to people.<br />
<br />
Chilling with friends is big. I wasn’t blessed with a huge family with thousands of cousins that you need to interrogate anyone you plan on sleeping with at a party. Just in case.<br />
<br />
So my friends are huge. Like planet huge. And they’re awesome.<br />
<br />
C. From my last post. My mind has been in a million places at once. I’m trying to get my outlook taken care of. Not the computer system, but my outlook in life.<br />
<br />
Have you ever questioned your existence? Like what we live for. Why do we get up each day and do the things that we do? What’s the point in some things and should we be doing more of others?<br />
<br />
Don’t worry, I’m not joining the peace corps. But I would if I didn’t have kids.<br />
<br />
Ya’ll will or should know that I’m at a tender age of 22. My life is just starting. And it didn’t start in the beginning like it should, the early middle was crap, so I’m trying to make sure that the rest of my days are better.<br />
<br />
Honestly, I don’t want to be 30 and miserable. Not that being 30 is being miserable, it’s that’s the age I’m thinking “Ok, I’ve done this-this and this and this is what’s become of it. Did I do a good job?” Every decision you make today will affect you tomorrow but you can’t chance fate. <br />
<br />
Speaking of her, she’s been sneaky lately.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> In a really good way.</div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-71991007491798108262010-07-20T20:54:00.000-07:002010-07-20T20:54:04.798-07:00BareThis blank screen has been the bareness of my existence. Words pour out of my head, but somehow can't seem to make it to paper... or this ticker.<br />
<br />
Real emotion. Bare emotion. No hold back, looking to the heavens. It seems to never end. My heart burns sometimes, and trying to put it to paper has seemed to be the water in the sierra. Can't seem to get there yet.<br />
<br />
Closing my eyes, hearing music. Ripping out the thoughts in my mind. But there still there at the end of the day, and somehow it feels so good.<br />
<br />
Sleep isn't necessary, staring at the stars and realizing the world isn't so dark. Even through the darkness, there's still light. The clouds do move, the wind forces.<br />
<br />
The stars will shine. The bareness will never end, no more. I'm done holding back.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-17919200859143613812010-07-14T14:00:00.000-07:002010-07-14T14:00:03.093-07:00I really need to get off my ass<div style="text-align: center;">Not literly... but kinda get down on my ass. Sitting in front of the computer at night has been more of a surfing the internet, thanks to stumble. There's just so much CRAP to look at. I don't think it ever ends.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Is there an end to the internet? Or is it a never ending net of stuff that keeps our minds perked. I find something that inspires me (Insert my previous post about Kidtropolis) and write about it, but then go onto the next page. Where it inspires me again.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes I find things that awe me instead of make me want to write. Eye candy of sorts, it never ends.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So being called a Versatile Blogger from <a href="http://nomies3monsters.blogspot.com/">Nomie </a>is a great honor. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oV73R8mmDig/TDp-oGfdo1I/AAAAAAAAAII/TDVsTqQ0NEA/s320/versatile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oV73R8mmDig/TDp-oGfdo1I/AAAAAAAAAII/TDVsTqQ0NEA/s320/versatile.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The rules of this game is to nominate 15 different bloggers that you think are versatile. There are so <i>many</i>. Its going to take me a minute or two to pick and choose. Especially since I've been surfing the eye candy instead of writing. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/.a/6a00d8341c630a53ef0120a6d19f65970b-300wi" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/.a/6a00d8341c630a53ef0120a6d19f65970b-300wi" width="235" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:LimndOqGbKMOeM:http://i284.photobucket.com/albums/ll36/mattpula/jacob-black-still2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Eye Candy... SEE???</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And then I need to tell you seven random things about me...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
But, because this is real life. I'm writing out of my fingers right now, not by the backspace button. I'm gonna finish watching the rest of Deadliest Catch: The last Phil episode, dry my tears and get some sleep. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thanks again Nomie!!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-25328011627621370442010-07-13T21:41:00.000-07:002010-07-13T21:41:57.365-07:00If I had a million dollars...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://go2.wordpress.com/?id=725X1342&site=kidtropolis.wordpress.com&url=http%3A%2F%2Fkidtropolis.files.wordpress.com%2F2008%2F07%2Ftreehouse.jpg&sref=http%3A%2F%2Fkidtropolis.wordpress.com%2F" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://go2.wordpress.com/?id=725X1342&site=kidtropolis.wordpress.com&url=http%3A%2F%2Fkidtropolis.files.wordpress.com%2F2008%2F07%2Ftreehouse.jpg&sref=http%3A%2F%2Fkidtropolis.wordpress.com%2F" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I would build this for my baby boy. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The rooms at <a href="http://kidtropolis.wordpress.com/">Kidtropolis </a>is something straight out of a little boy's imagination or a fairy tale book. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://go2.wordpress.com/?id=725X1342&site=kidtropolis.wordpress.com&url=http%3A%2F%2Fkidtropolis.files.wordpress.com%2F2010%2F03%2Fdsc_1202.jpg&sref=http%3A%2F%2Fkidtropolis.wordpress.com%2F" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://go2.wordpress.com/?id=725X1342&site=kidtropolis.wordpress.com&url=http%3A%2F%2Fkidtropolis.files.wordpress.com%2F2010%2F03%2Fdsc_1202.jpg&sref=http%3A%2F%2Fkidtropolis.wordpress.com%2F" width="248" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"></div>I spent quite a while marveling at the details of each room and the heart and soul that was put into each piece.<br />
Everything was designed and built by <a href="http://kidtropolis.wordpress.com/">Kidtropolis</a>, nothing bought from Walmart or Ikea. Custom to your child's dream room.<br />
<br />
Again, if I had a million dollars.<br />
<br />
Or maybe just a really good saw and some paint?Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-62190181240378031722010-07-09T21:43:00.000-07:002010-07-09T21:43:04.486-07:00Boredom<div style="text-align: center;">What happens when I get bored and sick?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.planebuzz.com/boredom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.planebuzz.com/boredom.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Like a raging ass sick which has taken over my body temporary. I need a exorcist this shit is so bad! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm not gonna get into details. But the boredom has made me creative. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Like the <i>blog</i>. Looks good? No?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And this..</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6jWjJt92I7YYpTF2CpjpPsdjBs_3TP0WfRXIwlpe9yJ6DoDx0c7kojvH7aVZpU06Ovx31IHDaD-S6SOqPYPitaFhtuOYbpuytDnSLDeap6ST85oQT2ylHvgIJgrlWXAmFnV45r-VKAJs/s1600/Kittytat.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6jWjJt92I7YYpTF2CpjpPsdjBs_3TP0WfRXIwlpe9yJ6DoDx0c7kojvH7aVZpU06Ovx31IHDaD-S6SOqPYPitaFhtuOYbpuytDnSLDeap6ST85oQT2ylHvgIJgrlWXAmFnV45r-VKAJs/s1600/Kittytat.png" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">When I get bored, I like to stick myself with needles. Lots of them, to make a pretty drawing into something that will never leave my body. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">A few more are in my mind, maybe for another day. Anyone got one on their foot? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So yes, boredom. You do oh so much more than drunkenness. </div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-33946927273271580482010-07-05T11:12:00.000-07:002010-07-05T11:12:48.762-07:00Let's get wasted! It's for our country, damnit!I honestly started writing a post about how the 4th of July brings families together, what kind of great food you can make, etc.etc. but I got kinda side tracked.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://pix.motivatedphotos.com/2010/1/13/633989904784311260-TEQUILA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://pix.motivatedphotos.com/2010/1/13/633989904784311260-TEQUILA.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Yea... that's what happened. Bad, Katie, Bad.<br />
<br />
So I'm not-so regretting it today. A little hung over and extremely hot. I think the liquor is trying to escape my body, I don't blame it really. <br />
<br />
My best friend and her kids, her friend John and my best two guy friends, Steveo and Scottie came over for a fun-filled time. Water balloons are the best for <strike>adults </strike>kids on a 90 degree day. We changed our clothes three times, and then went for fireworks at a local middle school.<br />
<br />
Trust me, everyone's surprised that I remember this much.<br />
<br />
The one thing I do distinctively remember, is a bottle rocket that went horribly wrong. My thigh and lip are swollen now.<br />
<br />
No, it wasn't in a drunken mess where I decided to light one with my teeth, that would of been funny though.<br />
<br />
One blew up just as it left the bottle, instead of in the sky, I was the only one not coherent enough, nor fast enough, to move out of the way. <br />
<br />
So, lessons learned:<br />
<br />
<ul><li>Do not mix Tequila and Jack Daniels together.</li>
<li>Everything people say while your drunk makes perfect sense, no matter what they're saying.</li>
<li>My friends are the greatest in the world.</li>
<li>No more bottle rockets. We'll get the big shit next year.</li>
</ul>I hope everyone had a happy 4th of july!Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-84540976091181974262010-06-30T21:14:00.000-07:002010-06-30T21:14:07.842-07:00It will never be the same...<div style="text-align: center;">Jumping on the bandwagon again, thanks to Natalie aka<a href="http://www.mommyofamonster.com/"> Mommy of a <strike>Monster </strike>I mean toddler and infant twins. </a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><center><a href="http://www.arizonamamma.com/" target="_blank" title="Bloggy Blog Designz"><img border="0" img="" src="http://i902.photobucket.com/albums/ac224/neuffj/You-KNow-Button.gif" /></a></center><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The classic phrases first time mother's get all the time. "You're a mama now!" or "Oh you'll get the hang of it". And then you want to either cry or <strike>punch the person</strike> politely thank them for their thoughtfulness and assistance. We sometimes, I mean all the time, think of the things we've forgotten, lost, banished or completely went into a black hole. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c179/littlegirl751/funny-mothers-day-card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c179/littlegirl751/funny-mothers-day-card.jpg" width="148" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><ol style="text-align: center;"><li>You’ve completely lost your purse to tissues, hot-wheel cars, loads of candy for bribing, various McDonald’s toys, etc. Never again will you just have a cute clutch that will hold just a few things.</li>
<li>Going to the store by yourself is like taking a trip cross country. Taking every single long side road to get there and back, taking your sweet time getting through the store. Not taking the self check out and getting behind the little old lady with 50 different types of cat food. And she has coupons! </li>
<li>A granola bar and a huge cup of coffee is breakfast of champions.</li>
<li>You know every Disney, Nick and Cartoon Network theme song by heart and can sing them at ANY time. Sometimes in the most inappropriate situations. </li>
<li>You ask where the potty is.</li>
<li>Being bored is not an luxury anymore. There’s always something to procrastinate with. </li>
<li>You cut up your husband’s meat as well as your kids before each meal. Just in case.</li>
<li>Doing your nails in the shower is normal weekly thing.</li>
<li>Your feet stick to the kitchen floor… and you don’t care.</li>
<li>Going clothes shopping eventually ends up in buying more clothes for the kids, and one piece for you.</li>
<li>Cussing turns into a game where instead of &@$% it is now fudge. And then they ask for a fudgesicle. </li>
<li>At work, you find yourself writing on post-it notes with crayon.</li>
<li>You’re willing to kiss your kid’s boo-boo, no matter where it is.</li>
<li>Cleaning the kitchen at 1am is not crazy, it’s a daily routine.</li>
<li>At night when the house is clean, the kids are in bed and you are exhausted, you still spend 10 minutes watching the kids sleep, and thanking God for all of it. </li>
</ol>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-53733660399899639592010-06-28T21:16:00.000-07:002010-06-28T21:16:46.069-07:00I just don't stumble, I plant my face into the sidewalk.<div style="text-align: center;">Ok... here's the thing. I'm sitting here, in front of the computer, playing with this thing. It's big, huge even. Lots of people probably use it but don't have the guts to say so. Mine in blue and green, but it could possibly be just my preference. It's kinda lazy way of doing things, but I like it that way. No real human interaction, no clean up necessary.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:3dbD6HiYHDR7kM:http://lebreiro.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/stumbleupon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:3dbD6HiYHDR7kM:http://lebreiro.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/stumbleupon.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">What did you think it was???<br />
<br />
To take a break from the clicking and the eye gouging, here's Tues Tag Along. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://tweepoppets.blogspot.com/search/label/tuesday%20tag-along"><img alt="Tuesday Tag-Along" height="125" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y26/Weezarrgh/TTAButtonSize.jpg" width="125" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't forget to add the blogs to the stumble! </div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-35697450773044023662010-06-23T20:38:00.000-07:002010-06-23T20:40:16.957-07:00We interupt this Earthquake to bring you a Tornado Warning<div style="text-align: center;">Has anyone seen the movie 2012? I was thinking about it about 2pm dis afternoon. Here in Buffalo, New York. We usually see snow.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Like this type of snow.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://jhbertrand.blogs.com/jeffbertrand/images/suv.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="http://jhbertrand.blogs.com/jeffbertrand/images/suv.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Today. We felt a earthquake. Completely out of our comfort zone, I called my mother in law in Eden, NY. She felt it. Aaron called his dad in Derby, NY. He felt it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Later we learn the earthquake is from <i>Canada</i>! 500 miles away. (The quake, not Canada.) C'mon! Nothing screams zombies and apocalyptic tragedies as something like this. This is horribly confusing. Here's a diagram.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v207/Mouse656/?action=view&current=Quake.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="254" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v207/Mouse656/Quake.png" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ok, I'm over-reacting here. I'm sorry. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But it was cool. No damage, no one died and certainly no zombies.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Yet.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We went out for dinner, everything as usual. Everyone is talking about it. I think one person had his windshield broken and someone's cheap Wal-mart pool fell apart.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then we get a Tornado warning. Again, to refresh.. it's Buffalo, NY.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.wkbw.com/images/320*240/funneljpeg952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://media.wkbw.com/images/320*240/funneljpeg952.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This isn't So. Cal or Arkansas. The worst we see is about 12 feet of snow and we dig ourselves out. No big deal.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And, it all brings me to this song.</div><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/u2UhvN0k74w&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/u2UhvN0k74w&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-77921484219367950532010-06-21T21:59:00.000-07:002010-06-21T21:59:19.853-07:00Tues Tag Along on a Hot Car<div style="text-align: center;">Welcome to Tuesday Tag Along, where I shamelessly put my name on a list with a group of bloggers hoping for someone to read this so I don't look like a crazy lady. Join, please, so others like me don't have to go into the loony bin. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://tweepoppets.blogspot.com/search/label/tuesday%20tag-along"><img alt="Tuesday Tag-Along" height="125" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y26/Weezarrgh/TTAButtonSize.jpg" width="125" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So my last few posts have been well... not as unique as they should be, way to emo as they ought to be and to far apart. I want to say I'm sorry for any lack of creativity that I've stripped from this place. I can promise that I will try and try again to drink more alcohol and get out of the *ddddduuuuhhhhhh* *gurgle* *gurgle* staring at my computer screen like it's a porn movie syndrome that I've been in. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Good thing, I just haven't been staring at this screen that long. If you look or remember the post where I said I'm to scared to ride muscle cars and muscle men. Weelll... let's take off one.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Friends and I went to a car show. A really perty car show and now Aaron and I are thinking of the future. Ya know, wedding bells and screaming babies and all that <strike>shit </strike>nice things. We got to talking about buying one of these beauties some day. In the long distant future, probably when dogs grow wings and my ass gets smaller.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v207/Mouse656/6-22-2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v207/Mouse656/6-22-2010.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Please ignore the bug... well don't. That's my beauty. Whenever we see one on the road, we kinda get giddy and try to figure out with double agent is in one. There's only 4 in the tri-state area!!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Darrell got excited over the Charger, obviously. His father is a Dukes of Hazzard addict. Full plaid shirts, running from the law, hound dog, daisy duke = don't sleep with your cousin thing. He was upset that it was <i>blue</i> instead of <i>orange</i>. But what can ya do? Not everyone wants to drag around a confederate flag on the top of their car.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It was nice, very nice actually, seeing old friends who know me best and who can understand my humor. Nos Bottle - 5. Katie - 2. Really, I can't put the freakin' cap on for the life of me. My friend Dan threatened to go get a sippy cup, I told him to leave that for the jack & coke. Seriously, don't waste a good thing man.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So sippy cup, sleeping cousins and hot cars aside. I'm back, sorta. I've always been here but I'm going to try harder at being myself instead of a drone. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Promise on my future cars life. <i>Minus the small ass.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-72551693718729629802010-06-19T23:34:00.000-07:002010-06-19T23:34:29.944-07:00Dear Dad<div style="text-align: center;">Hey Dad.<br />
<br />
How you’ve been? I’m sure you’re having the time of your life having a beer with Sr. and playing cards with Papa.<br />
<br />
How’s Mom? Make sure that she’s happy, You always made her laugh.<br />
<br />
Darrell is getting big. Huge even. He reminds me of you sometimes. Stubborn and hard headed. Never in my life did I think that my son would be as bad as I was. I really want to say I’m sorry for that. For being a little brat. <br />
<br />
You’re going to be disappointed in me. I haven’t seen a race in over a year. Haven’t been to one either since Tony took me to Holland for the figure 8 races. The seats are uncomfortable and the beer is flat, what can I say?<br />
<br />
Funny thing, I go by Nicholason and Hall each day to work. They had a huge sign on the front that said Boilermakers of America, I think you’d like it. Never went inside, I’m sure a lot of the guys will remember you but I’ve changed from the little 5 year old blond girl. They’d probably look at me like I’m crazy.<br />
<br />
Grandma is doing okay. She’s really upset about how Doug is treating the house, I want to punch him sometimes. But it was her decision, and with this economy, I could of never kept up with it. Better to go with blood than anything else, right? <br />
<br />
Aunt Marty and Uncle Bob are doing great too. She’s finally retired after all these years. But keeps on going, ya know? Never stopping. Oh… and make sure that Rusty gets a good walking. <br />
<br />
Dexter’s fence is still up, and the hole in the wall from when I was so mad at you I threw a shoe. Oh wait.. You never knew about that. Sorry? I hid it with a N’Sync picture for years. Even though I think Justin Timberlake is annoying as hell. Oh yea, was that you that turned the light on a few years ago in your room? If it was, it scared the shit out of me. And my cat. I don’t think I moved that fast in years.<br />
<br />
You were right about a lot of things. I see that now. Working to support your family is an honor, not a chore. I take pride in my work, even though I don’t get up off of my ass for 8 hours. You always told me that you didn’t want me to work with my hands, it’s not a woman’s job, but I do, in a different way. <br />
<br />
You’d like Aaron. Even though he’s a democrat. He cares about me, a lot. The ethics, and the personal endeavors is amazing. He never stops learning and never stops teaching me the beauty of patience. I really think you and him would get along good, over a beer, of course. He’s really good for Darrell, and me too. Keeps us on our toes.<br />
<br />
Surprisingly, you were wrong. I hate to say it but you were about one thing. I’m not to much of a cry baby to get a tattoo. And it didn’t hurt as much as you said it was, I think you were trying to scare me. Your last one, with the wolf howling at the moon, it’s really weird in some ways. My friends call us a pack, a family. Blood is strong but family is stronger. Even though we never shared the same blood, Dad, you’re always my father. I could never think of it any other way. <br />
<br />
The days where I need the strength and the courage to get through a obstacle, I think of you. Never giving up, never giving in. Always strong and always with pride. You’ve been my rock, sort of speak, for the past 4 years. It’s been a long road, but I’m starting to finally get my life back together. I hope your proud.<br />
<br />
I love you Daddy, I miss you... and Happy Father's Day. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>R.I.P. Alan Binko</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>8/28/50-2/12/05</i></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-80561075530443815372010-06-16T18:59:00.000-07:002010-06-16T18:59:36.963-07:00Sweaty boobs & Pinned back hair.<div style="text-align: center;">It was my day off. <i>Was </i>is the key word here.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The day is coming to a close and I've accomplished so freakin' much I think I'm gonna pass out.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We can see the floor of our bedroom, first in <i>months</i>.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I can see the floor in my son's room, first in <i>ever</i>.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The main thing here is that I need to take a shower. Grimy, sweaty, smelly woman I am, cleaning takes a lot outta ya when it's 80 degrees. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>And </b>I'm making taco dip so when Aaron gets home, he'll be greeted by a <strike>horny </strike>happy me and a dish of fresh taco dip.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am an awesome girlfriend but sorry dear, I definately won't look like this. </div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i42.photobucket.com/albums/e337/ajbt3388/Vintage/cleaning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i42.photobucket.com/albums/e337/ajbt3388/Vintage/cleaning.jpg" width="217" /></a></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-73688171876142105022010-06-15T22:12:00.001-07:002010-06-15T22:12:39.182-07:00Wordless Wednesday - This is what I want to do sometimes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://midlifeslices.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/screaming-woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://midlifeslices.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/screaming-woman.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://midlifeslices.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/screaming-woman.jpg"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Link</span></a></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-20154790944227798402010-06-12T22:04:00.000-07:002010-06-12T22:04:34.653-07:00In my own defense....<div style="text-align: center;">Where have I been? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Honestly I don't know.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh wait... at work. Sitting in front of a computer screen, looking at Christmas lights in the Que.</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
It seems like a bit and a half since I've blogged, or really tried. I want to apologize, in my own defense. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So instead of writing something miraculous because I just don't have the<strike> bull-shit power</strike> energy. I'm gonna steal this from <a href="http://papoe.typepad.com/papoe/2010/06/99-things.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+Papoe+%28Papoe+Feed%29&utm_content=Google+Reader">Papoe </a>who stole it from a crap load of people.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>99 Things </i></span></div><br />
<strike>1. Started your own blog</strike><br />
<strike>2. Slept under the stars</strike><br />
3. Played in a band<br />
4. Visited Hawaii<br />
5. Watched a meteor shower<br />
6. Given more than you can afford to charity<br />
<strike>7. Been to Disneyland</strike><br />
8. Climbed a mountain<br />
9. Held a praying mantis<br />
10. Sang a solo</div><div style="text-align: center;">11. Bungee jumped<br />
12. Visted Paris<br />
<strike>13. Watched a lightning storm</strike><br />
<strike>14. Taught yourself an art from scratch</strike><br />
15. Adopted a child<br />
<strike>16. Had food poisoning</strike><br />
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty<br />
18. Grown your own vegetables<br />
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France<br />
20. Slept on an overnight train<br />
<strike>21. Had a pillow fight</strike><br />
22. Hitch hiked<br />
<strike>23. Taken a sick day when you're not ill</strike><br />
<strike>24. Built a snow fort</strike><br />
25. Held a lamb<br />
26. Gone skinny dipping<br />
27. Run a marathon<br />
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice<br />
<strike>29. Seen a total eclipse<br />
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset</strike></div><div style="text-align: center;">31. Hit a home run<br />
<strike>32. Been on a cruise<br />
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person</strike> </div><div style="text-align: center;">(I live 45 minutes away from N.F., I've been there SEVEN TIMES!)<br />
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors<br />
<strike>35. Seen an Amish community</strike></div><div style="text-align: center;">(If anyone is near Central New York, check out a little town called Penn Yan, NY.</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's surround by Amish Country)<br />
36. Taught yourself a new language<br />
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied<br />
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person<br />
39. Gone Rock climbing<br />
40. Seen Michelangelo's David<br />
41. Sung karaoke<br />
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt<br />
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant<br />
44. Visited Africa<br />
<strike>45. Walked on a beach by moonlight</strike><br />
<strike>46. Been transported in an ambulance</strike></div><div style="text-align: center;">(Rode in one just for shits and giggles)<br />
47. Had your portrait painted<br />
48. Gone deep sea fishing<br />
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person<br />
50. Been to the top of the Effel Tower in Paris<br />
<strike>51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling<br />
52. Kissed in the rain</strike></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strike>53. Played in the mud</strike><br />
54. Gone to a drive-in theater<br />
55. Been in a movie<br />
56. Visited the Great Wall of China<br />
57. Started a business<br />
<strike>58. Taken a martial arts class</strike><br />
59. Visited Russia<br />
60. Served at a soup kitchen<br />
<strike>61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies</strike><br />
62. Gone Whale Watching</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strike>63. Got flowers for no reason</strike><br />
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma<br />
65. Gone sky diving<br />
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp<br />
<strike>67. Bounced a check</strike><br />
68. Flown in a helicopter<br />
<strike>69. Save a favorite childhood toy</strike><br />
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial<br />
71. Eaten Caviar<br />
<strike>72. Pieced a quilt</strike><br />
73. Stood in Times Square<br />
74. Toured the Everglades<br />
<strike>75. Been fired from a job</strike><br />
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London<br />
77. Broken a bone<br />
78. Been a passenger on a motorcycle<br />
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person</div><div style="text-align: center;">80. Publish a book<br />
81. Visited the Vatican<br />
<strike>82. Bought a brand new car</strike><br />
83. Walked in Jerusalem<br />
<strike>84. Had your picture in the newspaper</strike></div><div style="text-align: center;">(When I was a youngin', I had my picture in the paper a few times. </div><div style="text-align: center;">That's what you get for living in a town of 200.) <br />
85. Kissed a stranger at midnight on NYE<br />
86. Visited the White House<br />
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating<br />
<strike>88. Had chickenpox<br />
89. Saved someone's life</strike></div><div style="text-align: center;">(Not literally, but I've been told that by two people)<br />
90. Sat on a jury<br />
<strike>91. Met someone famous</strike><br />
92. Joined a book club<br />
<strike>93. Gotten a tattoo </strike></div><div style="text-align: center;">(I have two!)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strike>94. Had a baby</strike><br />
95. Seen the Alamo in person<br />
<strike>96. Swan in the Great Salt Lake</strike></div><div style="text-align: center;">(I'm assuming the great lakes. Lake Erie!)<br />
<strike>97. Been involved in a law suit<br />
98. Owned a cell phone</strike><br />
<strike>99. Been stung by a bee </strike></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">So I haven't really seen much in my life. Never have been outside this time zone except once in a flight delay in Atlanta. But I've done a lot of things.</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">What have you done?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />
</span></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-31102460414450042312010-06-08T20:49:00.000-07:002010-06-08T20:49:32.555-07:00Crazy People<div style="text-align: center;">There are a lot of crazy good people out there. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Lewis Black, Tim Burton, Barack Obama (c'mon, you know he's gotta be crazy to deal with all of this!)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But there are every day crazy good people </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiptWXFXZrhwYZHNfh4VmKSQM5e_K3GPvzhgbIzFZ87Sm-bPuQ7-bn542GVZ-v86pkzS8nWmkBwPcHV7ZMF-PkuPzW4Xtqf-fmyFrqf9mWo_ciSoL_uDhqeUfo5eq_rAGWRtvNp5hzoXsiL/s1600/honest-scrap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiptWXFXZrhwYZHNfh4VmKSQM5e_K3GPvzhgbIzFZ87Sm-bPuQ7-bn542GVZ-v86pkzS8nWmkBwPcHV7ZMF-PkuPzW4Xtqf-fmyFrqf9mWo_ciSoL_uDhqeUfo5eq_rAGWRtvNp5hzoXsiL/s320/honest-scrap.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Courtesy of <a href="http://finallymom.blogspot.com/">Finally Mom </a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMRP9l1GrMWjzOADxvZmgizt8ZjDIRNWdpcTXCg7Vf-gaCf_M6w9kLggXruZE_sL1_B01MA8-XFB5P3zfz_9GgICFYnbyldOWYIaExRFjjF-iXw3Zko6dyBp8WYxqnusD4Qgm2SgBh2AY/s1600/trendy+blog+award.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMRP9l1GrMWjzOADxvZmgizt8ZjDIRNWdpcTXCg7Vf-gaCf_M6w9kLggXruZE_sL1_B01MA8-XFB5P3zfz_9GgICFYnbyldOWYIaExRFjjF-iXw3Zko6dyBp8WYxqnusD4Qgm2SgBh2AY/s320/trendy+blog+award.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Courtesy of <a href="http://mommyspages.blogspot.com/">Twenty Little Toes</a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>THANK YOU!!!!!!</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<i> For the Trendy Blog Award</i> •To receive this award, promise to share this with 10 other blog that you think are Trendy too.•Post about your award in your blog.•Share with the bloggers .• Ask them they need to give this award out to 10 as well. <br />
<br />
<i>For the Honest Scrap </i>So the rules are telling 10 <strike>lies </strike>interesting things about myself, and then pass the award along to other great bloggers.<br />
<br />
<ol><li>I love everything oriental. We've got my grandmother's Chinese tea napkins hung on the wall, a few Katanas and a ken-do stick (only for a deterrent, not actually used <strike>outside the bedroom</strike>) </li>
<li>As much as I'm a computer hog, I will sit in the sun for a few hours a day just for the melatonin. </li>
<li> Once we've started, my boyfriend and I can have a pretty good political debate. Often other people will get involved and then us yell at them. :-)</li>
<li>I was once a hippy. Tie die shirts, hemp purse and hand made sandals. I was only 13. </li>
<li>The new mocha frappes at McDonalds are the bomb, but honestly if I drink to many, I'll become the fattest woman.</li>
<li>Getting me up successfully in the morning is like convincing a tiger that a nice bath is good for them.</li>
<li>Online, I'm like Martha Stewart with organizing files, pictures, etc. Offline, I'm lucky enough to find my toothbrush.</li>
<li>As a kid, my favorite cartoon show was Dragonball Z. Little did I know how awesome anime actually is. </li>
<li>I use to scrap. Like real big. But it got to costly and a lot of work. Maybe one day I'll get back into it.</li>
<li>I'm a sop for muscle cars and muscle men. But I'm to afraid to ride either one. Hehe. </li>
</ol>Now after you've cried with boredom... here are the people receiving the award for <b>awesomeness</b>.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">**Gotta share the love**<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://finallymom.blogspot.com/">Finally Mom</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://mommyspages.blogspot.com/">Twenty Little Toes </a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://accidentalbabymaker.blogspot.com/">Accidental Baby Maker</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://velvetoversteel.blogspot.com/">Velvet Over Steel</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://norcalmom-lemonstolemonade.blogspot.com/">Lemons to Lemonade</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://punkrockmomma.com/">Punk Rock Momma</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://asavingmomssanity.blogspot.com/">Saving Mom's sanity</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dawnkornfeld.com/blog/">The Way I see things</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.theallisonwonderland.com/">The Allison Wonderland</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://adventuresmommywood.blogspot.com/">Adventures in Mommywood </a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-13082406038097243962010-06-07T08:49:00.000-07:002010-06-07T08:49:28.054-07:00Looking at the face of death... or rather a door.<div style="text-align: center;">I'm back after work three 12 hour shifts in a row. Last night around 11pm, I was nearly crying to get out of there. It's my choice, but why does time have to go by so slow???</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Literally crawling out of there last night, Aaron and I came home without the baby. My ex was nice enough to take him again for the night so that we could get some sleep and relax for a bit. And Darrell was asleep by the time we got out of work. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Two glasses of wine and the blue comedy tour is food for the soul. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Better news... I almost died. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.commitment.es/mba2008/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/tiraecol_en-271.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="http://www.commitment.es/mba2008/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/tiraecol_en-271.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Not really, but it felt that way and I will never take the middle elevator again.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I got in, the doors closed and they didn't open. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I didn't panic... until later. For some reason I just kept my calm, kinda huddled in a corner and waited for the security guard to come around. It's said that the elevators at my work are the oldest in the city. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">What <i>sucks </i>is that I couldn't get a signal with my cell phone. There was a old rotary phone in the elevator, so I used that. But if it was plummeting or doing something funky, I couldn't call anyone to tell them my last wishes. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I got out fine, obviously. Late from my break, sent a message to my supervisor and then banged my head promptly on my desk. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Which this reminds me to adjust my will. Oh yes, I have a will. I believe everyone over the age of 18 should have one because we're not God and never know when we're going to kick the bucket. At least something saying "<i>Mom I love you</i>" or "<i>Don't forget to feed the cat</i>". </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And.... to finish my bucket list. </div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-25833964458806092012010-06-04T23:29:00.000-07:002010-06-04T23:29:36.653-07:00Balls of steel<div style="text-align: center;">I'd like to think I am. Solid steel, never waver, no tears, no pain. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">If some people haven't read the "About me", I'm 22 years old. And this has thus far happened.</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">I was born ('cause that's traumatic enough), my parents got a divorce, my mother was diagnosed with cancer, my mother died of cancer, I move in with my dad, my mother's boyfriend commits suicide over IRS and gambling debt (HA! Irony <b>sucks</b>!), my grandfather passes away, I find out my father adopted me, my dad gets diagnosed with cancer, he passes away, I graduate from high school....<i> keeping up yet</i>? I essentially had a nervous breakdown and ran away from home, got pregnant, married, survived marriage <strike>from hell </strike>(it really wasn't), had my son after almost dying on the table. My husband and I got into a bad-ass argument, left my husband, met my boyfriend, left my boyfriend and went back to my husband, lost my job, car, apartment, sanity. I start seeing my boyfriend again, husband leaves. (Don't blame him) Became homeless since the first time since 2005...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The good parts; got a job, moved in with boyfriend's family, had visitation with son, got a better job, shit hits the fan, I get my son and then got an apartment.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So here I am... alive. Sorta. My husband and I are on speaking terms, not killing each other and keeping it real for the kid. We're trying to figure things out without really talking to each other, it sucks. The court system believes that we can work things out with a restraining order that I told them not to put on. We can only talk about the kid. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I really sound ghetto right now and I want to apologize but life sucks.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Things aren't all cute as kittens and giggles and kisses around here. I work hard, like 50 hours a week hard. I love my job, I'm a moron for that too but it's a good job with good people working for a good company. What else can a gal ask for?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Why the hell am I writing all this and making everyone believe that I'm a ghetto redneck bitch from hell?</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Because I've just been that way lately. Not towards people, but towards life. I haven't been able to write good things lately, just shit is starting to creep towards the fan and I don't want everyone alarmed.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">When it hits, I'm going to be right here. Writing is my tool to sanity. I've got almost 3 dozen half written journals in the bedroom that I have yet to finish, a half written memoir of stuff that doesn't make any sense if you read it from front to back and a head full of words. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So... to clarify, I'm not steel. I feel like I am but I'm not. I hope ya'll can understand... yo. </div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-12936045885863663062010-06-03T20:52:00.000-07:002010-06-03T20:52:09.337-07:00Tweet, Twit, Twirp, Teet, Tit, BOOB!<div style="text-align: center;">So I've joined.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.funny-tweets.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/Funny-Twitter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="http://www.funny-tweets.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/Funny-Twitter.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">No, I lie. I've been for a while. I just never really kept up with it. In the months that I had joined, I guess I had gotten a half a dozen followers whom I have absolutely no clue who they are.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
Stalkers? Probley.. Not so sexy because it could possibly be a fake name/picture/person. Imagine a computer somewhere in bum-fuck egypt and some really ugly creepy dude following me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXLgnMaeCesMBOA6oCLnl05XKNydcfHK03ARz0GSgooBUEgYyRuBfLMwFYKCbTPwb9EgQkaluN_6aBMYM74PCNhF4z9O-oK4K1RkX5y71cSfwH-rnprAygmYiRTT2gLHuFW8nUwSOPMB_/s1600/Bumfuck.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXLgnMaeCesMBOA6oCLnl05XKNydcfHK03ARz0GSgooBUEgYyRuBfLMwFYKCbTPwb9EgQkaluN_6aBMYM74PCNhF4z9O-oK4K1RkX5y71cSfwH-rnprAygmYiRTT2gLHuFW8nUwSOPMB_/s200/Bumfuck.png" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So... as I sit here staring at this line where only a 140 characters can bare my heart and soul. Aaron goes up to me and says "oh... Katie... why?????" </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Please tell me what I'm suppost to do with this thing. I "tweeked" it to look not so blah, but what am I suppost to say?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>My ass itches?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Darrell is picking his nose?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Going to sleep?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh wait, I do that on Facebook. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Follow me if you want, just ignore the creepy homicidal dudes. </div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-68435974465797940812010-06-02T20:27:00.000-07:002010-06-02T20:32:41.647-07:00Twinkle Twinkle Little Star... oh wait, this shit doesn't work.<div style="text-align: center;">Why is it when you're a kid, you never want to sleep. Bed-time is the forbidden zone where you fight, scream, negotiate and wrangle your way out of it. But when you're an adult, sleep is a luxury. Especially after you had those said kids who will give their souls for an extra hour out of bed. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Of course, as an adult. We have additives in our lives that keep us awake. ie. Coffee, energy drinks, tea, cold showers, work, sex. So, ultimately, it's our own fault for not getting the correct amount of sleep that we need. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This philosophical point comes from...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>My kid not wanting to go to bed. </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">A thousand and two kisses and hugs, asking if he can have 2 gallons of milk, juice, water, <strike>beer.</strike> Getting up, sitting down. Going to give the cat a kiss goodnight... oh wait, he forgot to give it a hug. Then back down. Then he forgot to give the fishie a hug and kiss... and oh wait, don't forget about Aaron. And then the juice, and then the questions.<i> </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Why is the walls white? </i>Because they are Darrell, go to sleep. <i>Why do we sleep?</i> Because we need sleep to live Darrell<i>. Why do we live? </i>Because God gave us life Darrell, now go to sleep. Then the <b>God </b>questions. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes I wish I could duct tape him to a wall. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v469/Butmonkey/DuctTape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v469/Butmonkey/DuctTape.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">And then I remember that's illegal and unsafe.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then I wonder why some people are allowed to breed.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">See where my kid's questions come from?</div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7953195166582698520.post-53601977159238678572010-06-02T15:26:00.000-07:002010-06-02T15:26:28.300-07:00Wordless Wednesday - Good parts in life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs35/f/2009/329/2/e/2ed3fa4c81858293b6b369edeea58008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs35/f/2009/329/2/e/2ed3fa4c81858293b6b369edeea58008.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://uploathe.deviantart.com/art/Taste-of-happiness-96099390?q=boost%3Apopular+in%3Aphotography%2Fconceptual&qo=139">Link</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You often have to look for them to find them. But there are good parts in life. </div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18411037932275943963noreply@blogger.com2