Joe- notice the apostrophe in the title? [Joe and I form that really annoyingly cute couple that makes people want to puke (including ourselves surprisingly). As a part of our hi-larity, we often talk about how we hope that after each adorable thing we say to each other, a child throws up somewhere. We should probably have our own sitcom really.]

Anyway, today is such an awesome day. It started out with super awesome Friday morning Firefly viewing at 6am. Can’t think of a better way to start a day. Work went really well too- most of my meetings got canceled and so I had lots of coffee and was bouncing off the walls. I tried to call grandma, but she didn’t answer. Probably at a funeral or something.

At one point, around like, 2pm I think, I was jumping around my cube probably like a maniac because I ended up spilling my coffee over everything. See, the interesting fact here is that I only really had one cup of coffee, and apparently I didn’t even drink much of it because a lot sure managed to spill everywhere. Cubie told me to settle the fuck down, so I realize I should take a chill pill. And I did.

I went to Macy’s to try and buy Joe a jacket, not because I’m a nice girlfriend or anything, but because I hate all of his winter jackets so badly that I don’t want to be seen in public with him until he gets a new one. They didn’t have the one I liked in a size small though, which is crazy because it was the nicest jacket ever, and it would have looked beautiful on him. I asked the lady to print out the places where they have them in stock and the closest was Chicago. Considering that a trip to Chicago this weekend would necessitate a coat, I am shit out of luck (on the coat front).

A little update on my car selling ordeal. So, Sam was going to drive down with his father-in-law on Wednesday morning to pick up the car. However, I have my moments and totally forgot to look for the title. Therefore, Tuesday night when I did finally try to find it, I was unable to locate it. I had to call Sandra (my mother for those of you who don’t know), which was okay only because I had been drinking at the bar beforehand. She was talking to me as she looked for it. “I don’t know why I would have that Katie… you need to keep better track- oh, I found one for a ’98 Camry… oh, and it has your name on it! I found it!” Der. Okay, so she put it in the mail on Tuesday night, assuming it went out Wednesday (from Fargo, ND), it still isn’t here yet! Wtf. So, now I’m getting harassed from Sam being all like “wtf, my woman wants that car, when can I come get it?!” and my insides are all like “wtf, I want that money.”

Joe is still going home to get his car after work though. We are both under the impression that it would be the wisest to not use the car at all- I need that money and it would suck for it to die before I get to sell it. In line with my karmic views, I kind of feel bad about selling Sam a mostly crappy car, but the truth is, that thing is still really nice. It probably has another 100,000 miles in it (with a little bit of work), and the system alone is worth 2k. I was still feeling bad about selling her though- she has been with me for over 7 years! I thought she might purposefully shit out on me because she would be too scared to go to Sam (fair assessment really), but Joe pointed out that I’ve been so good to her, that she will hold in there and wait to shit out on Sam, almost as revenge for all the damage he had done to her previously. Made me laugh. But, hopefully I can get rid of that thing tomorrow or sometime soon.

I read an article today about finances when marrying on this blog. Found it interesting. It made me think, evaluate my own habits with money. I’m pretty sure I’m good on that front, seeing as I have very little debt. I only have debt though because I like nice things anyway, it isn’t like I was frivolous and took out student loans or something. I should be all done paying crap off by May though. Then I can resume stock piling for my mansion or awesome Hawaii trip. Either would do.

I’m not sure how many of you follow baseball, but last night was game 6 of the world series. Joe and I made our way to Rock Bottom right after work, because last week when we attempted to watch the game on Thursday night, every place we went was packed. So, we staked out our place at the bar early and began the long night of drinking and baseball.

I don’t love baseball. I really only watch it because it makes Joe happy, but that’s fine, I still enjoy the “drinking at the bar” atmosphere. Well, 5 hours later it is 10pm and we are only in the bottom of the 7th. The Rangers were up 7-4 (I think), and I was fading fast. I asked Joe if I could go to bed, and he said that because he was so sure that the Rangers were going to win, that he would come with me. So we went to bed last night, right at the beginning of the 8th inning.

Obviously I feel terrible about this and am concocting ways to make it up to him. I began telling cubie this story early today, by started out with “so Joe and I were watching the game last night” and he interrupted me to say “OMG, wasn’t that the most exciting/amazing game almost ever? Holy crap!!” Right, so, I need to make this up to him. I can’t tell you how though, because then he would know and that would ruin the surprise.

Now I’m back at Rock Bottom, writing my blog. I heard “Thompson” uttered at the bar, which quickly caught my attention. Obviously I only assume it must be my one and only true love, Brian Thompson. Thompson is a gay man in his 40’s, but I’ve always had a thing for him. He’s incredibly smart, funny, AND good-looking, but I haven’t seen him for years.  I’ve been trying to meet up with him for the last year probably, now that I work and live downtown. However, our lives are busy so I live vicariously through his Facebook check ins. I know he uses the same gym as I do (why this isn’t motivation enough for me to go I’ll never know), and sometimes he goes to the bar I am currently sitting at (no correlation of course). I still have a shirtless picture of him in my apartment, so now I’m being a super creeper looking over my shoulder every time someone walks in hoping it’s him. It never is.

Scatter brained

So I’m considering canceling my gym membership. It costs me $62 a month, which is kind of silly because I haven’t used it in two months. Because the gym is in my building, if I use it 8 times/month, I get half off my membership costs. However, even this doesn’t get me to go. Why do I continue paying for it then you ask? Because I like to have the option to work out. Yet, I’m beginning to think that it could just be a source of guilt for me- I’m paying for it, I should be using it… but I’m not, so I suck.

The worst part about it, though, is that I love working out. I love waking up early and how energized I feel afterwards. I know I feel better emotionally and physically when I work out, which should naturally follow with “okay, then work out more” but it does not. Why is this? Does everyone ask themselves this everyday? Because I sure know I’m not the only one.

My chin is rashy from kissing my prickly boyfriend. It is annoying because I look silly and I find myself scratching the crap out of my face during meetings. This is not the ideal way to conduct one’s self in a corporate setting. Alas, hopefully he has shaved today.

The problem with following current events is that I actually expect the changes to take place. One of the latest topics that I have been following is the Viking’s stadium debate. In this, I’m also going to include the possibility of a Block E Casino. However, when I begin to think about how long we’ve (Minnesotans) been talking about a new Viking’s stadium, it nearly makes me laugh. Yet, not laugh, because I’m deeply vested in the issue and can’t image how anyone could think that Arden Hills is a viable option. Obviously I understand I have my own biases- I live downtown and would love for anything to bring more life to the area. The fact that I cannot find an open Caribou close to my apartment on the weekends is sad. Having lived in Manhattan for a short time, I came to love the ability to get a pedicure (complete with a glass of wine) at 2 in the morning. [On that note- does anyone know where I can get alcohol while getting a pedicure in this town?!] So, for me, Viking’s stadium=midnight pedis (especially if it means a 24-hour casino opening in the area too).

Today I had absolutely no drive while at work (in fact, the first draft of this post was written there). I didn’t have too many meetings, which meant I had a shit ton of time to get my work done. However, I think I was hungry or something or just not in the mood and therefore barely got anything done. I hate how I get this way sometimes, and I told my cubie I wish I had some focusin, but he didn’t get it (Simpson’s reference). The sad part though is that I’m already on medication for my ADHD, because this has been a consistent problem my entire life. While uninsured for a few months earlier this year, I was unable to refill my prescription, and the 3 months I went without it sure made me appreciate it once again. I’ve since started taking Strattera again (about 2 months ago) and have noticed a dramatic effect in my ability to work. However, there are still days where I am completely scatter brained (like today) and nothing gets done. Maybe that’s why I’m super productive other days, to compensate?

[As a side note, I’ve since left work (only about 30 minutes early), and am now at the bar because that’s just how today feels]

I am in need of advice
So, a little back story first. This summer, I went to a charity ball/auction. I was on a date, and severely pre-gamed the event as I thought there wouldn’t be an open bar. To my surprise, there was, and I took full advantage of the tequila luge and margarita bar. Being the generous person I am, I decided it was time to start bidding on the silent auction items. I don’t remember bidding on anything specifically, but I never bid more than the minimum, and basically I was just trying to encourage others to bid as well. Well, the night ended early and I puked in my date’s shoe… and didn’t hear anything about winning any auction items. A month ago I woke up to an email stating that this auctioneer had been trying to track me down since July and that I had won a private cooking lesson for two. In my response, I neglected to tell her that I didn’t even remember bidding on anything… let alone $250 for private cooking lessons… Alas, it was for charity so I paid my bill and told Joe of the delightful surprise.

Next week is the supposed cooking lesson. At first I tried to be really excited for it, but now I’m more nervous than anything. I just got the menu from the chef, and while it’s okay that I only know about half the words he used, I don’t even understand the technical aspects of it. I’m not supposed to bring the food- right? A cooking lesson implied that the food will be provided, no?

Well, now I am weighing my options. I can either just clarify with him what all I am expected to bring -OR- show up empty handed like a fool and have a funny story to tell. My typical self would lean towards the funny story, but Joe is rubbing off on me with all of his open-communication crap, and it might make more sense for everyone (including my sanity) if I just ask him earlier rather than later. I wish I was still in middle school and could have my best friend ask his best friend to ask him.

On another note, apparently I’m a really bad speller and have no grammatical sense. This is all fine and dandy for most people, but me being an aspiring writer and all complicates things. Joe was the one to point this out to me. This was quickly followed by a handy link to this blog. Thanks man, thanks a lot.


So today was the last day of flag football, and I couldn’t be happier. It isn’t that I don’t enjoy… activity. Rather, I don’t do team sports. I don’t know why it took me 22 years to learn this, but it just isn’t me and it never has been. I can’t stand the disappointment I cause in other people when I don’t meet their expectations, so I just prefer individual sports.

It not like I’m against physical activity, like I said. I ran for a bit, that was all good and fine, but then I realized I hated it. Then I did triathlons and got into biking. Now I really like biking, and because I am selling my car on Wednesday, this is probably a good thing. [As a side note, my “no teams” policy only applies to sports. I’m a functional human being in other settings.]

While I’m on the topic of selling my car… I’m really excited to do so. One, I spend more money than I make, so having a few extra G’s in my pocket will be nice. Two, lately she has just been a headache. The check engine light came on, I’m worried she is going to fall apart every time I drive her, and it costs nearly $200/month just to have her in my life. So, I’m selling her to my ex, Sam.

Sam and I dated for 4 years, so there are many things that I could say about the silliness that is him buying my car. However, I will keep it to the basics. I’ve had my car for over 7 years. This included all 4 of the years that Sam and I were dating. He beat the shit out of that thing, yet proceeded to make fun of me for driving a Toyota Camry. A few of the dents are from him, as is most of the interior damage. The knife slash on the arm rest? All his fault. So, the fact that he is now buying this car, for him and his wife because they need something more fuel efficient while expecting a baby, is, well, ironic. (I won’t even get into the part where his wife and I were best friends for a few years). Anyway, I hope it serves him well for whatever amount of her life is left (the car-not the wife).

So, after flag football, I rushed over to my painting class (I made it from the football field to the class in 8 minutes). This was the first actual class that I was able to attend, and it was pretty neat. After doing a little drawing, I was able to whip out my acrylics. I have nothing really to show for it yet, but maybe one day I’ll post a picture or two on here of my super amazing artistic skills (or lack thereof).

Mmrraahh– busy week for me. It’s late and I’m tired. Tootles.

My Halloween Party

So I’ve spent the last few weeks putting together a halloween party. What kicked off the idea was a really cool jello cake recipe I saw- I wanted to make something similar, spiked, for a party.

Well, last night was the party, and here is my recap.

Joe helped me get ready nearly all week- decorating, cleaning, and baking treats. He also put together the complete playlist which was awesome (and the last song was playing when the last group left! PERFECT!). Yesterday I spent all day getting my costume ready (I already knew what I was going to be, but still needed to get it ready), baking/cooking, cleaning and last minute decorating. The costumes were cute: I was a Wal-mart worker and Joe was a person of Wal-mart. My favorite part of his costume was the mustache that he affixed as fake chest hair. Heck yes.

Around the time I was making my mummy weenies, I began looking through my recipes on my computer. CRAP. I totally had forgotten to make the jello cake that had set the whole thing off- I guess I’ll have to have another party mostly.

I was freaking out about getting everything done on time and Joe was cleaning my dishes as I was being all tense and shit. Then he says to me “Well, I was hoping we could be done by 7:45 so we could take some time to relax with a drink before the guests start arriving.” How fricken perfect is he? I was just like “gaahhh- that’s exactly what I need.” So, it twas what we did, and it was great. I was so happy when my first guests arrived, a friend from OKC and a friend from work. I got everyone drinks and we chatted for a bit, and slowly bunches of other people showed up. Everyone had rockin costumes, and it was really nice to see some people I hadn’t seen in a while.

At one point in the evening, a bunch of my coworkers knocked on the door together- their costume was a group costume, where they were all in a protest saying they were the 99% that want my cupcakes back, #OccupyKatesApt. It was really cute and made me pretty happy.

Nothing dramatic happened, and I didn’t get too smashed to remember what happened. One friend brought with a girl I didn’t know, but she seemed really great and was totally in love with my apt, which I thought was awesome(sauce). Sometimes it takes someone from the outside appreciating what we have for us to realize it… which is kind of sad.

Even though it was just a little get together, I felt really happy afterwards to see people I loved, have a great time in my own place, and then get to snuggle up to Joe after everyone left. I didn’t actually do too much snuggling though, because I passed the fuck out and apparently Joe proceeded to throw up for the next hour, none of which I heard of course. I felt bad :-/

I slept in late this morning- didn’t wake up until it was light out. After some light cleaning up (the place wasn’t even trashed!) and taking a shower, Joe and I passed out again listening to the radio. I probably wasn’t conscious again until after noon- which is insane for me. We stayed in bed and watched G.I. Joe on his cell phone until about 3 when he left for bowling. I was a little hungover, but more so in the emotional sense- I just felt moody. Even so, it felt so good to just stay in bed all day and not have anything to worry about or stress over. This whole “graduated” thing is quite neat.

Now I’ll probably be lame for the rest of the night and not work out like I probably should. I’ll hopefully be in bed by maybe 8pm, and fall asleep with a good book before my awesome Monday morning. I love weekends :)

But, before I shall go, here are the pictures of my place before the party! (And I’ve posted the links to the recipes below)

Links: (I made the deviled eggs)

Stupid acts

So sometimes I do really stupid things at work. Here are some examples:

  • Pick my nose when I don’t think anyone is around only to have a co-worker say my name and I realize she is directly behind me and absolutely just caught me
  • Bring in Oreo balls to share with co-workers only to eat them for lunch and then have to leave work early because I fell ill
  • Send emails to my coworker Joe instead of my boyfriend Joe (the other way around wouldn’t bother me as much emotionally, but would be more of a broken policy by sending confidential stuff outside, so I suppose this switcharoo is preferred)
  • Forget I’m not in my own apartment at my own desk and fart/burp really loudly
  • Have conversations on the phone that require me to ask for “boobs and vaginas please” (see Fondant Vagina for the full story)


So I have a slight addiction to pizza. If I have just one slice, I cannot seem to stop eating it. I literally have no problems with taking down the entire large pizza by myself, and I’ve accepted this. I know that this isn’t just a problem I have, but rather a very common conundrum. However, in my attempt to not be a fat ass, I’ve decided to stop eating pizza.

Because I have taken this vow of abstinence, pizza has never been a topic of discussion between Joe and I. Or, rather, it has been a forbidden topic- I can’t even handle watching pizza commercials or seeing the coupons on his table, let alone him telling me that he is craving it.

However, I’ve been thinking about pizza more and more lately, partially due to my recent visit to CO, where Drew and I were about a hop, skip, and jump away from ordering some for ourselves (out of tradition of course!). So, I’ve decided that because I’ve managed to lose a couple pounds, I can let myself splurge a little and enjoy pizza on Friday night when Joe is having a couple friends over to play Rock Band all night and eat and drink.

I’m pretty fricken excited, one reason being that I get to meet his friend from out of town that I have heard tons about. Apparently him and I have similar senses of humor. I’m thrilled to see someone who can dance with me on sexual innuendos.

There is also the opportunity to listen to Joe sing. He has such a fricken awesome voice. I remember him winning me over on one of our first dates by not only having Hanson playing when he picked me up, but also knowing more of the words than I did. Ever since then, I take every opportunity to hear him sing.

Lastly, my excitement resides in the beer and pizza which I have not been allowing myself to indulge in. Seeing as the pizza is quickly approaching, last night Joe and I were discussing what type we should get on Friday. I started by asking him where we were going to order it, and once he listed off Pizza Hut as an option, I quickly interrupted him asking him if he wanted to know my favorite kind. For those of you who don’t know, my favorite kind of pizza is pepperoni and pineapple, preferably on Pizza Hut’s stuffed crust.

As you may be expecting, this is certainly not a normal combination.  I often get cocked off for it: “Do you mean Canadian bacon?” Fuck no. If I wanted Canadian bacon I would have asked for it. This may explain why I’m often eating the entire pizza- it’s hard to find people to share with me. My mom would never even let me get it on half, because “fruit does NOT belong on a pizza, and I cannot even risk it coming over to my side.” In high school, Sam would let me get only pineapple, but hated pepperoni (who doesn’t like pepperoni? wtf). Alas, I was left to fend for myself.

After sharing this story with Joe, I looked at him and he had this look of shock/horror on his face. I figured he was going to walk out, unable to accept my pizza preferences. However, he just said “that’s my favorite kind of pizza.” I pretty much knew instantly that this could be it for us – it basically sealed the deal.

It was mainly because of this revelation that we decided to become “Facebook official”, which, as everyone should know, is a hella big deal. Not only in the general sense, but for me specifically too. I’ve never been Facebook official with anyone, and I can be pretty weird about making serious relationship steps.

In other news, I spent the night making treats for my Halloween party on Saturday. I made tons of Oreo balls and then some chocolate dipped pretzels with what chocolate was left. Turns out, the awesome part about having a bathroom larger than your kitchen is the ability to use the counter space in there too.

Also, because it isn’t too obvious from the picture above- I had some trouble with the green melting chips. Turns out, not having a microwave can be an inconvenience when trying to use melted chocolate. Until now, I’ve coped with the stove just fine, but when I tried to get my baking on tonight, I realized that the white and colored melty stuff doesn’t get as smooth. I’m just going to have to splurge for the powdered food coloring and dye almond bark myself.

The poop rule

So it finally happened. I have, once again, broken the poop rule. The poop rule obviously being that no one speaks about poop during the beginning of a relationship. While our (yours and mine) courtship has only been a week, I consider the fact that I’ve written 5 posts to be the equivalent of 5 dates. Which is still too early to be talking about poop. But, alas, that is how I do.

So I’m up a half pound this week. This is distressing because I’m trying to lose weight, not gain it. However, I’m comforted by the fact that it is now Monday, and I have not number 2ed since Tuesday. This is not atypical for me, it’s normal to only go once a week, right?

Speaking of bringing up pooping too early- as a freshman in college I was known for quite some time as the “poop-girl.” During our first floor meeting in the dorms, we all had to go around the circle and tell an embarrassing story. The one I chose was from about 2 years prior, during the early stages of my relationship with Sam.

It was one of my first times spending the night at his house, and I woke up in the middle of the night with the worst stomach-cramps. [A little back story: I was 16, he was 19, and he still lived with his parents. His parents didn’t like the fact that we were dating, i.e. sleeping together, at such a young age. My mother, of course, had no qualms.] There was a bathroom directly off of his bedroom, but I couldn’t risk any noise coming out and waking him up. I went upstairs and let loose on the main floor- which was okay because everyone else slept upstairs. It was just after 4:00am, and when I flushed, the toilet clogged nearly instantly. I was saved by the fact that it didn’t overflow, but rather, just didn’t go down. Scared, tired, and not being able to find a plunger- I decided to just run back downstairs hoping no one would realize it was me.

The second I step foot out of the bathroom door, however, I run into his mom eating a bowl of cereal. Crap. I can’t turn back now, she had clearly seen me, and I can’t just keep going because she’ll go in the bathroom and find it. Well, actually I could do the latter, so that’s what I did. I said “hi,” looked down, and bashfully ran back downstairs. Early relationships are so nerve-racking- I surely couldn’t risk him finding out I was human and shat.

2 years later, when a freshman in college, I decided this was the most appropriate story to tell to twenty girls I was meeting for the first time. Why I thought this was the proper time just shows how naive I was. Anyway, basically  for the next few months everyone associated me with shit, and I’m pretty sure I was the only one blamed for clogged toilets that year.

90 Day Review

So apparently the trick is just to use the word vagina in my posts. It’s awesome(sauce) that my number of page views increased so much after that last one. I could get the hang of this blogging thing.

Anyway, my 90 day review was yesterday. I was nervous as shit for it. I actually took Ibuprofen beforehand because I thought that that would make the truth hurt less. It did not.

I got to the meeting room before my manager- I hate being late. Which just left me alone in a room to psych myself out even harder. I was flipping back and forth between “I’m getting fired” and “I’m getting a raise,” neither of which were really that rational. I even had time to write a little beforehand, which was the only thing that could really take me out of my own head.

Brr, it’s cold in here. They must try to distract me. At least now the dreams where I can’t tell time and I’m 45 minutes late are over. I thought I was being followed by an undercover security agent for when the fired me, so I made small talk with him so he would feel bad and be on my side. (He ended up walking away)

On the flip side, I’m only feet from a garbage for when I need to puke, which I feel very close to doing. I’m shaking and am probably an unnatural color- red or

I was probably going to say white, but my manager walked in. He tried to lighten things up by starting with his favorite probability problem- this just put pressure on me and didn’t really help lighten anything at all. Not the typical result from a math problem, but oh well, we can’t win them all.

He placed the report card just to my right. I tried not to look at it, too scared to see what it said. I tried to focus back to when I saw it without any check marks, so I would automatically know what I was receiving without having to read anything- just glance. This didn’t really work too well, and my manager just kept gesturing to it, so I knew I ultimately needed to look down and just read the damn thing.

There were three boxes next to each descriptor. “Meets Expectations,” “Does Not Meet Expectations,” and “Don’t Know/Did Not Observe.” I received a check mark in the first box for every category, except Manages Talent and Strategizes, which my manager marked “Don’t Know/Did Not Observe.” That’s fine. I don’t manage talent, and probably haven’t been given any projects where I can really show my ability to be strategic.

My opportunities are to improve my written communication by recognizing my audience, and to seek out more challenges. Both are probably true. So, I stayed late at work to get a ton of shit done- which was surprising to me for a couple reasons.

  1. I never take feedback well. I had assumed that I would need to leave work directly after the meeting and start drinking. I surprisingly didn’t even drink at all last night! (Either out of sorrow or celebration).
  2. I don’t remember the last time I was at work past 5 or worked on something for so long. I somehow was able to focus on what I needed to do and just got it done. Usually I sit and think about doing it, think about how much time I have, and if it is too little time, I fuck around because I don’t want to start something I cannot finish. If I have too much time I fuck around for a little bit because I would rather feel the pressure of having just enough time. But this opens myself up to the opportunity of becoming lost in whatever fuck-around-task I’ve found, and then at the end I don’t have enough time to do what I originally had too much time for. Urgle.

Afterwards I realized I clearly didn’t have too much to worry about, but actually still kind of appreciated the fear that I felt beforehand. I’m not in any position where I can be walking into a review meeting without that fear- maybe someday. Maybe someday when I own the company I won’t have reviews anymore, that will be nice. But, then I guess my reviews will just come in different mediums, such as from other CEOs or news people. Urgle burgle.

My ADHD hurts

So I was at work today, doing some research in what is basically our corporate wikipedia site. I came across an entry for awesomesauce… and really all I could do was shake my head. A few months ago, I first heard Joe use the phrase weaksauce, and after I stopped laughing, I asked “wtf is that?” He asked if I ever found my way online, and, given that I have not had internet in my residence since May, I had to say “No, I guess not.”

When did this sauce crap start? Why is it taking over the world and who started it? On a similar note, about a month ago when I went to Joe’s parents house for dinner, I was greeted by the most delicious spaghetti sauce. Being from a Hunts Traditional family myself, I was utterly shocked that she had made it from scratch!

A few weeks later, I eventually worked up the balls to call her and ask her for the recipe. Within about 2 minutes, she hung up on me. Realizing this was due to unfamiliarity with technology rather than seeded hatred, Joe called her back. I eventually got the recipe, and as I should have expected, everything was in “some” & “a little” measurements. Never being one to turn down a challenge, I said “Alright! I can do this!” And boy, did I. Now that was some awesomesauce…

Earlier this evening I was on the phone with Joe when I got it in my head that he should move his furniture in his apartment. This is for a few reasons, one being that he has this really weird corner blocked off by couches where his computer sits. This is hard to explain, but basically one needs to jump over the arm of a couch in order to reach his desk. Last night as we were working on computer stuff together, this presented more than a couple difficulties. Further, a lot of light comes in from his balcony, which is AWESOME, but totally gets in my eyes when I’m watching TV.

Now, I began to tell him all the different ways I had been brainstorming his apartment rearrangement, when I realized I was being a silly-controlling girlfriend and deserved a response along the lines of “umm… Who do you think you are, I like my apartment just the way it is- thank you very much.” However, he didn’t cock me off like any normal person might do, but rather allowed me to share my wonderful ideas. He thought about it and might actually switch some things up.

Why is this relevant? Because I have a small furniture rearrangement addiction, and now I cannot stop thinking of the different ways to do my own apartment. This is all a part of me bouncing off the walls this evening, trying to clean my apartment. While this is actually the ideal state for one to be in while cleaning, it does make me feel crazy.

  1. I became distracted by this foreign object atop a building outside my window. Its about 33 stories above my lookout, so I can only see a small part of it, but I’m sure it wasn’t there yesterday. What could it be?
  2. Technically I am in the middle of unpacking/cleaning my room from my Denver trip. Doing so, I had to bring things back to my desk and that caused me to stop and research how much I could possibly sell my car and stereo system for (not that much).
  3. Each time I leave my room to put something away, I start cleaning wherever I went. So, when I brought the fork that was on the floor in the middle of my room to the sink, of course I had to empty the dishwasher and fill it up again.
  4. Next, when I brought a load of stuff into the bathroom, I really felt the irresistible urge to brush my teeth (still technically cleaning, right?).
  5. Back in my room, I see my dumbbells. “Hmm… weights? I haven’t used these in awhile, and I probs won’t make it to the gym… sure I’ll lift a little!”
  6. [10 minutes later while folding laundry]: “Am I just now realizing that American-Apparel shirts don’t have side seams? Thats awesome. Do most other shirts? Maybe I’m just noticing it because I’m crazy. I can’t tell if this is an anomaly. I’m going to go check others…” [they all had side seams!!]

Clearly I understand this is the normal way to clean, but it does make me feel rather scatter brained… Thinking I’m special because I can’t focus on one thing? Everyday cliché.

Next, I decided to attempt a double batch of chocolate chip/butterscotch/M&M cookies. In the kitchen I realized I was out of butter, but found a fondant vagina instead. I think I’m going to place a magnet on the back of it and put it on my fridge. Hopefully my grandma won’t know what it is when she sees it… or wait, hopefully she does know what it is. This is getting weird… I’ll just decide now that I’ll hide it next time she comes… AHH

But why do I have a fondant vagina you ask?

Well, a couple weeks ago, I had just gotten to work and of course the first thing I do is check facebook. I realized that it was my best friend’s birthday and I had completely forgotten to send anything. In a panic, I searched for “bakery near ___ (his address)”. The closest one, and the only one I needed to check, was called Le Bakery Sensual.

Being a smart thinker, I made the phone call from the bathroom, as anyone near my cube would have been able to hear the conversation. However, apparently this crazy bakery doesn’t open up until later in the day -and- that’s on Colorado time too. This was literally my busiest day at work ever, so I had to squeeze the call in right before my team lunch- prime pee time in the corporate world. Therefore, I was forced to make the call from my desk.

I tried to just get one cupcake delivered, but they didn’t want to do that. Eventually I was swindled into purchasing a dozen cupcakes. “Fine, whatever, its my bff’s birthday” I thought. Knowing this is a sexual bakery, when the guy asks me what I want on them, I say “lady things- err, ugh, guy things… I mean… I don’t know, this is for a guy.” While he did understand what I meant, he needed to clarify by asking which specific body parts I wanted. I ultimately had to say, aloud in my cube, “boobs and vaginas please.”

At this point, I just gave him the address and my credit card number and needed to get off the phone. My cubbie was just staring at me like “What the f was that phone call about…?”

During lunch, it occurs to me I was never told the total cost of this gift. And, had I not been so flustered, maybe I would have thought to get a penis for myself.

Anyway, I finish out the day and rush home to get ready for the wedding that Joe and I are attending that night. We both get dressed up and head out the door. On the drive there, I get a phone call. Being the techie-guru that I am, my phone calls come through my stereo system. I answer with a polite “Hello?” and in return:

“Did you send me dirty cupcakes!?”

My grin was huge. I was also able to convinced him to send a picture.

I then asked him to save me one. He replied wanting to know which one I desired, so I turn to Joe and pose the question “Do I want to eat vagina or boob?”

Joe jokes that the first words he ever heard my BFF utter were “did you send me dirty cupcakes!?” I’m just glad no one else was in the car. When I went to Denver to visit last weekend, Drew had saved me one (and in case you were wondering, I definitely chose vagina). However, he did not preserve it in the freezer, and it was stale as shit. I ate a little bit of the frosting then just decided to take the jay-jay home. Days later, I was able to confirm with my bank statement that this whole ordeal cost a lovely $80. Absolutely 100% worth it.

Home sick

So I went into work this morning, hoping that getting out of the house would make me feel better. This was not the case. It wasn’t so much the sitting/e-mailing/conference calls that got to me, I was mostly okay if I wasn’t moving. However, when I get up to make a copy or have a meeting, I felt instantly dizzy and wanted to throw up. Of course then I just avoided moving, but people were telling me I looked sick and should get away from them so I didn’t infect anyone. Point taken.

Walking home I had the strangest cravings for pizza and cool ranch doritos. It reminded me of when I was about 6 years old and got really sick once. All I remember was eating a lot of doritos, and puking up nearly just as many (or maybe just one huge dorito… not sure how that addition works). I couldn’t eat cool ranch for YEARS because it always reminded me of being sick. That has since passed so I’m not sure why now all of a sudden I am craving them while being sick.

As for my flight home yesterday- nothing really went according to plan. Turns out, they got the original plane so they no longer were oversold (apparently they thought they were going to use a smaller aircraft). However, it was delayed a shit ton and the original 6:00pm that they teased me about going on ended up leaving before my delayed 6:30pm take off. How lame is that? Not to mention.. no $300 for me…

The flight was hell two. My ears went all whack because I was stuffed up, and I couldn’t manage to fall asleep either. I ended up talking to a nice woman next to me though- she seemed kind of impressed with me, which was cute. Her son is a junior in college now, so we talked a lot about college and I suggested he do summer programs like the ones I did. She was in Denver for her book club, and now I’m starting to think about forming a book club. Basically we would only read memoirs… anyone interested?

Upon my arrival, I had a message from Joe, so I sent him a text telling him we just finally landed. He couldn’t believe my flight was delayed so long, and not wanting me to take the light-rail back so late when I wasn’t feeling well, he offered to come pick me up. I didn’t want to make him do that, but after going back and fourth I relented. I called him once I was off and walking to the pick-up zone, and he mentioned he was just getting ready for bed. What proceeded went a little like this:

Me: “So… you aren’t picking me up?”
Joe: “No… did you want me to?”
Me: “Umm yeah, that’s what I said in the text”
Joe: “What? No. You said that you were sure that you didn’t want me to come”
Me: tears starting… “No… I meant sure come get me… but its fine, I’ll take the light-rail”
Joe: “No, no, I’m sorry, I misunderstood! I can be there in 15 minutes!!”
Me: full-on tears in the airport “No, no, its fine. But I just don’t want to talk anymore. Bye”

I ended up taking a cab because I wasn’t sure how long the wait would be for the train, and I also couldn’t imagine myself sitting through the entire ride. I just really wanted to be at home in my bed resting. $50 later, I’m fumbling to get my keys out of all my luggage, because clearly I can never remember where I’ve placed them 3 days prior… I’m out on the street looking like a total doofus, so of course there are other people out there looking at this crazy crying chick who can’t get into her building. I typically never meet anyone in the elevator either, but god hates me so I had to last night. Looking back now, it’s all quite comical- but it sure wasn’t then. I rushed into my apartment (found the keys!) threw all my stuff down, whipped the crap off my bed, and lied down crying like a 6 year old. Mih.. it’s kind of funny thinking how dramatic I was- just your typical frustrated girlfriend who got left at the airport :(