Downtown Friday

So I went shopping yesterday at Banana Republic, found tons of things I LOVED, and then left without buying anything. What the hell am I turning into? An adult?!

After that, I went to a movie. I had gotten off work early and was waiting for Joe and I to meet up for our anniversary dinner. I brought a beer with me, because last time Joe and I were at a movie, Arthur Christmas, Joe said that only thing that would make the Justin Bieber intro video bearable would be a beer. I think that planted the seed in my head that movies need beer. 

Anyway, I went to see Sherlock Holmes. I saw the first one, thought it was good, and thought it would be action packed enough to entertain me. However, I had completely no idea what was going on for a majority of it. Maybe the beer aided the confusion; or, maybe, it was just a terrible movie. 

Ultimately, I’m not sure how I would grade the beer in movie decision. It tasted good, but was also a tad obvious due to the fact that I had to tip it upwards when any drink purchased at a theater is consumed through a straw. I was as nervous as a clown, which… maybe was a good source of excitement. 

I think I need more spontaneity in my life. Maybe tonight at dinner I’ll order the dessert before dinner. But then I’ll just ruin my appetite for dinner… hmm…


So I have a slight addiction to old Pyrex bowls and I’m not afraid to admit it. This first began when I was at Joe’s place a few months back. I found his stash of three Pyrex bowls from what I would place at the mid 50’s. I asked him if I could have them, but he said no. (I also asked him if I could have his comforter, to which he also said no. Apparently this is a long stream of difference between our two families. In my family, we put our initials on everything of my grandmas that we want after she dies. To him, this is very morbid and completely unacceptable, it would result in his family characterizing one as greedy and selfish…)

Over the next few months, many conversations were had over said bowls. It came down to declaring “well shit, now I can’t break up with you until we live together so I can at least get away with the bowls.” (Joking… of course… mostly).

The other week, while at my step-grandparent’s condo for pre-Christmas celebration, Peggy whipped out TWO Pyrex button containers. Holy cow. I have never seen those before! Not only have I been on a hunt for a butter container lately, but I didn’t even KNOW there were Pyrex ones!

Last weekend while at my grandma’s with Joe for christmas, I told her about them. I was like “O.M.G. gram-gram, did you know that Pyrex BUTTER dishes exist?!” This is something I should go straight to her with because 1) she is addicted to butter (the only time she failed at lent was when she tried to give up butter) and 2) she is an expert Pyrex dealer (true story). Well, she knew about them, but didn’t have any to give me. Next I told her about the awesome bowls, to which she replied “oh! I have a set of four pink Pyrex bowls in the basement that I’ve been trying to get rid of!” I was floored.

We dug them out of the basement, and they were the most beautiful bowls I have ever seen. Joe attempted to start a bidding war, knowing that he no longer had anything to bargain with. Alas, they successfully arrived in my kitchen Tuesday night and I have never been happier in my life.

Until, of course, I went online to find a picture of the bowls to post in this blog because I’m at work and can’t take a picture of them myself. Turns out, everyone loves Pyrex. This is made clear by the website, . This is probably bad news because now I’m feverishly searching for new finds. As a double score, I just found out my bowls go for ~$100 on eBay.

Crazy calls

So for the last 5 days, I’ve been receiving phone calls from a blocked number. The began Monday “morning,” around 1am. They continued for a bit that night, then resumed again in the morning. I didn’t hear my phone ring at night because I always have it on silence. However, the next morning I looked at it just as I was receiving another call, so I answered it. No one said anything, but all of a sudden I heard people having sex. Or, rather, a woman moaning on the other end. I was at Joe’s, and when I played it for him, he suggested it sounded like someone was watching porn on the computer or something. Fine, whatever, I hung up.

The calls continued. More that day, then more the next night (past 11pm). Again, I didn’t answer. Then this morning when I woke up I had 4 missed called (never any messages), and got another when I was drinking my morning smoothie. I texted Joe some comment about this person evidently not sleeping and even he is getting annoyed by it.

I looked online and there is no way to block blocked calls to my iPhone either directly through the phone or without paying AT&T a fee of some sort. So, I went to the police. Because I had the time, it is a nice day, and it’s only a block away.

Basically he told me there is nothing they can do, that basically it is just a report but won’t be investigated. However, I think now I can go back to my phone company and be all like “hheeeyyy … don’t make me pay.” I’ll let you know what happens.

The biggest question is though, who did I piss off so badly that they would spend this much time calling me? I know I have a lot of enemies, but none that should still hold a grudge…


Apparently, AT&T doesn’t have the ability to block “blocked” calls on cell phones. I can register for a service that is $4.99 a month, but that only blocks actual phone numbers and can’t do anything about “blocked” numbers. They can also perform call traces for annoyance calls, but this again is not for cell phones, only landlines.

So… I get to continue ignoring calls because apparently there is nothing I can do about it short of changing my number.

An everyday thought process

So I’ve decided to take a Kaplan GMAT test prep class, and this is how it happened:

I was at work yesterday when I began looking at wedding rings. It was mostly because, Arthur Jewelers, who I am a fan of on Facebook, posted a pair of Tacori earrings that showed up on my news feed. I was like, wow, those are nice earrings, I should look for engagement rings again. I wound up finding two bands that I really liked: Tacori and one from BlueNile. Then came the obvious task of picking out a stone.

While I was flipping through pictures of real rings made with the BlueNile band, I found one that had a stone that was 2.07ct.

OMG! 207 is my most favorite number ever!! So, I started pricing some out in the quality range I find sufficient: Ideal cut; F,E,D color; VVS2 and better clarity. Among the 2.07cts available, the lowest prices is about 59k. This means I’m looking at a ring anywhere from 60k-70k. I can’t expect a man to provide that for me! If I want the status symbol, I’m going to have to fork over some change myself.

This is where my GMAT comes in. While taking the “preview class” last night, I realized 1) how compatible the course is with my learning style 2) how helpful it is for me to learn strategy and 3) how awesome of a test taker I am, especially if I practice!

So, higher GMAT from a simple $700 investment = top 10 b-school = higher paying potential later in life = 2.07 carat diamond. Heck. Yes.

Hopefully on the first day of class they don’t do the whole “so… what brings you here?” question.

My cliché of happiness

So right now I am readying Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert. The first chapter explains humans’ desire for control, and that because of the joy that control brings, we often imagine control where it does not exist. I’ve often contemplated how it often seems like I have an unnatural ability to control my own destiny. For quiet some time, I have believed that I possess a unique ability to alter the future, but apparently most people do. Cliche 629.

The chapter also reminded me of furniture shopping with Drew while I was in CO in July. I knew I wasn’t going to buy anything and that I just liked to look, but I also was able to acknowledge that most of my pleasure came from thinking about buying furniture rather than actually doing it. I enjoyed being able to think about my future and to me, the furniture signified freedom and independence.

Same with ring shopping. I realized the other day that I really like ring shopping. So what if I want to spend my afternoon dreaming of one day wearing one on my left hand… it doesn’t mean that that’s what I would want right now!

So wait… I’m not the only one to receive pleasure from day dreaming?  Mrrahhh

Fudge failure

So I’m pretty much on the verge of tears and want to start drinking like a… drunk person. However, I will not, because I’m taking my GMAT practice exam at 10pm, and I know that if I went into it a little buzzed and did well, I would use that for justification of needing to take the actual test drunk too. Therefore, I will be abstaining, until the test is done (2am).

I could also be über emotional because all I’ve had to eat since.. a cup of yogurt this morning was the sugary fudge I spent the last 4 hours trying to make. I’m eating a cucumber now to try and give myself healthy energy before the test.

I was so distressed that the fudge wasn’t working out that I actually even called my mother for advice. Alas, I’m a fudge failure.

Utterly shocked.

So you know what something happens in life, that just.. shakes you to the core? Well, that happened to me today.

Forever I’ve loved Christmas time because of the goodies that come along with it- specifically the fudge. I’ve ALWAYS loved our secret family recipe… well, not so secret I suppose as my grandma has published it in a few cook books. But, it’s just one of those crazy recipes that everyone has trouble with- I remember countless times of my mother making a mistake on the batch and needing to toss it out. It either became to hard or never managed to harden at all.

This year is my first year of attempting it on my own. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks… months actually. I was/am planning on it being the dish I bring to Joe’s family for Christmas. “What a fabulous impression I’ll make with my awesome baking skills!”

I called my grandma about 2 weeks ago to get the recipe (actually, it was December 5th, and I remember this because I also was calling for her birthday). Anyway, she gave me the recipe and the very detailed instructions. It is one of those things that is so delicate and needs to be brought just to a certain level, but we don’t know what exactly that level is so we experiment with it and hope for the best.

Now that tonight is the night for me to bake, I was all like “oh… I should look online, someone else must know this recipe, maybe I can get some advice!”

And boy, did I find advice. Aparently, this “family recipe” is really the Hershey’s Rich Cocoa Fudge recipe. Insert shock here.

Sometimes I’m a crazy

So, sometimes I react to things strongly, and my instinct is to say that I’m crazy. This reminded me of a recent article that I read, so I Googled “you are not crazy,” because that’s the moral of the story and I figured it would get me somewhere. Luckily, the second result was the story I was thinking about. The website above it,, is a website dedicated to preventing abuse of women.

It’s interesting that this is the way my mind went, and also fortunate. I sat down ready to blog about how, in this specific instance, I am really a crazy person. But, for women to perpetuate the notion that strong emotions and reacting to them is “crazy” is actually a pretty stupid idea. So, here is a story about how I reacted strongly to something, and, although I’m not quite sure why it happened, I’m glad that I took a few minutes to just think about my feelings rather than outwardly react. I’m thinking this is a healthy step.

I’m not very good at being the commuting partner. Granted, I could get better at it, but for now, I’m kind of lame. Saturday Joe and I had to stop by my apartment (I was staying at his place for the weekend) so that I could grab my retainer. Also on Saturday, I forgot to take both my Strattera and my Prozac, because I usually take it in the morning but I was out of my normal routine and just forgot. So, on the way to Joe driving us to the bus this morning, I realized that this time I forgot my pills (and again didn’t take them). I can’t make decisions really without them, but Joe and I decided that he would just run them up to me after work, otherwise he would miss his bus (his comes less frequently than the one I take).

Flash forward a few hours and I’m at home signing up for the latest SkyMiles offer in my inbox: the Dining Program (I’m all about the miles!). Turns out, the Zelo just down the street from me is on the approved list, and if I dine there within the next 30 days, spend $25 or more, and then review the restaurant within a week, I’ll get a bonus 1,000 miles! And THAT is totally awesome. So, I was like, omg, when Joe comes up we could grab Zelo (the calamari is really good!) and then he could like, spend the night or something because really, it’s silly for A) us to hang out and not spend the night together and B) him to drive an hour just because I’m forgetful. So then I called him, and this is how the convo went:

Kate: What’s your plan for tonight?
Joe: I’m gunna go shopping a bit more then come swing by your place. I should be there about 7pm
Kate: Did you forget that my pills at still at your house though so you’ll need to stop there first?
Joe: Yes, yes I did. I will be there around 8pm
Kate: Hmm… well… then you won’t get home till late and that seems silly and I feel bad for making you drive all the way here, and, if I’m completely honest with you, it feels kind of silly for us to hang out but not spend the night together.
Joe: It’s not a big deal at all! I can drive up there, hang out for a bit and give you your stuff. No problem at all
Kate: Hmm… okay… …. …. mmmmrrraahhhh
Joe: What’s wrong? Does that not work for you?
Kate: No, no, no, it’s fine… I just, ugh, well, wanted you to read my mind and all
Joe: [after a big of silence] ahhh…. you want me to spend the night?
Kate: Well… I was thinking it wouldn’t be a bad idea…

But then we talked about it and he has stuff to do and I was all like, let me think about it for a few minutes and I’ll call you back. So, I called him back, told him I was being a crazy and overreacting and that he should just skip it and stay home. Then he tried to reassure me that really, it was no big deal for him to drive them to me and he would if I wanted him to. But I was getting frustrated because I had to be the one to make the decision and I told him he was being frustrating and he’s all like “I’m trying to be as amiable as possible!” so I’m all like, “That’s the problem!” Then he said he would make the decision if I wanted him to (which I did), so he said he would stay home because he had a lot of work to do. So then I was all like insta-tears and got off the phone… but… now when I’m an hour removed from the situation, I have to idea why I was all insta-tears and shit. It’s totally fine for him not to come up here and I’m enjoying my nice evening to myself listening to MPR and possibly maybe sometime in the near future doing some GMAT studying.

The moral of the story? Sometimes even totally sane/semi-emotional women/people/maybe just me react in ways that they don’t understand but this can be okay too as long as they can look back and be like, oh, that was silly. Or, alternatively, it’s also good to be able to look back and say “yes, that was a reasonable way to react!” and then have someone awesome be all like “Kate, you don’t have to ever apologize for being crazy because I’m just as likely to be the one with my head in a box and sometimes you just have to make it clear that I’m being the ass. It’s never ‘always you’…”

MBA thoughts

So, I’m starting to think a little bit more seriously about getting my MBA. I mean this in two ways. I was checking out St. Thomas the other day, and I really liked it. When I get into a mood like that I can be like, omg, I want to start ASAP (keep in mind I haven’t even taken the GMAT yet…). But, because I have less than 1 year of work experience, the admissions director suggested that I wait until at least the summer semester. This kind of blows, in that, I have the energy and excitement and gusto to do it now, so that automatically leads to that I should. However, someone is saying no to me and I tend to not like that. But, at the same time, sure, it makes sense, maybe I’m not ready yet. Those 3 months will definitely help that, right? (Maybe.)

But, now that I am going to be putting a little bit more focus into the GMAT and actually making an attempt at getting in… well, maybe I should shoot the sights a little higher, no? I remember when I was younger I always had plans to go to Harvard for my MBA and still hold on to that it would be pretty bad ass to do so. (Watching Limitless last night didn’t help suppress any of my dreams of grandeur). Can someone with my lame GPA get into a place like that? Probably not. But I feel that I should at least go down kicking and screaming. So, short of video taping myself in my bikini for the admissions board, I will make at least a half-assed attempt at making myself desirable to them (that was a Legally Blonde reference).

Plus, even though my experience is relatively lacking, scores are good for 5 years, so if I rock the socks off of the test (typical), I can always wait until I’m an awesomely well-rounded creature. I heard Stanford is nice most of the year (right Drew?).

Elevator rides

So I got into the elevator today all the way up on the 30th floor. There were already people in the elevator, and they continued on with their same conversation. One woman was telling a story about a woman in New York who was killed in an elevator yesterday. This is what I over heard:

Lady1: Yeah, so her leg got caught and she couldn’t get it out and the elevator moved
Guy: People under estimate how strong those doors are!
Lady2: I know! And everyone just assumes it will open…
Lady1: People were in the elevator too! Can you imagine watching a person right in front of you getting ripped apart and bleeding to death like that?
Guy: Oh god, how painful it must have been. It must have been a slow, agonizing death

I then stopped focusing on the exact details of what they were saying as I was plotting where in the elevator I would aim my projectile vomit. Eventually I had to turn to them and say “Really? That’s what you guys decided to talk about in an elevator?”

Then once I got back to my desk I obviously had to search online…. It actually appears to be a really tragic accident. I feel really bad for her friends and family, but at the end of the day, please wait to tell the story until after you have left the elevator….