Good evening all, and happy Thursday! We've almost made it to the weekend. Very exciting!
I just had a random thought (what else is new?) today and needed to share it via blog. It probably won't be a long one...just an observation.
I've always had this theory about men. You can always tell what kind of a person a man is by the kind of shoes he wears, how often he wears them, and how worn down they are.
It's true. Show me a pair of shoes without me having met the guy or talked to him and I can tell you exactly what his personality is like.
Not trying to be judgmental or anything..which admittedly, I am. I wish I wasn't, but when it comes to shoes...I just have to be. Especially with guys. It's true, and if you've never noticed it before then you are WELCOME!
I just realized today that I needed to write about this because I saw this guy. He was super sexy, cute hair, nice eyes, tall, lean, wore a hoodie WITH a leather-jacket (not the weird kind, but the hot kind that only bassist's wear...don't even get me started on my love for bass players), nice jeans, and.........New Balance sneakers..eh.
I immediately was confused. Here was this extremely attactive individual wearing these shoes that only Steve Jobs and middle aged dad's can pull off.
ALRIGHT.
Here begins the analysis...I'll only use a few examples (for some reason my computer won't let me post pictures, which makes this problematic. I will allow you to use your imaginations/knowledge of men's shoes)
- New Balance Running shoes: smart, not necessarily a nerd, but pretty close, wears lighter washed jeans a lot, has a pretty boy hair cut, most likely wears glasses, funny
-Adidas David Beckham Rocoto/any indoor soccer shoes: aware of style, yet athletic, most likely on the thinner side, has probably played soccer at some point, has a buzz cut, likes to talk to compensate for his physical shortcomings, easy to please, not as good in bed
-Nike Basketball shoes: wears sweat pants a lot or jeans that hang too low, texts a lot, sleeps a lot, athletic--or at least thinks he is, good at flirting
-Vans slide on shoes: quirky, wears glasses because it's fashionable, not necessary, has funny jokes, doesn't talk much but when he does is comical, much knowledge of obscure television shows, music, and movies, loves comic books
-Vans skate shoes: may be stuck in the past, doesn't have many friends that are girls, likes to make fun of people
-Sperry boat shoes: always white, preppy-like, or at least is trying to be slightly, always smells good, OR could even be slightly anti-conformity (as weird as it sounds since, hey, they're Sperry's)
-Converse, classic low rise Chuck Taylors: much like the Vans slide on's, but can also be a bit tempermental/emotional, depending on how clean they are depends on how self-confident they are, the dirtier, the better the person, can also be great husband/boyfriend matieral, good at cooking, doesn't sweat the small stuff, is no stranger to beanie hats
-Converse, classic high rise Chuck Taylors: eh....artsy/likes to think he's alternative, once again definitely depends on the amount of wear and tear...otherwise hard to interpret
-Mocassins: most likely smokes a lot of weed or has before, enjoys comfort over style, good in bed, has lots of facial hair, tall
-Adidas daily athletic shoes: most likely your average guy, depending on color (white/black are most average), always responds to texts, laughs even when you're not funny, often spills beer among other things, likes only one type of music, great to bring home to mom and dad
-Leather-like boots for style: possibly gay, or metrosexual, older, into fashion, will take longer to get ready than you, rarely smiles, wears better sunglasses than you, good driver
-Leather-like boots for an actual duty: rugged, outdoorsy, likes country music, knows how to hunt, good kisser, strong, dependable, likes dogs, smells weird sometimes, sloppy drunk
-Western boots: may be off balance, a writer, talks slowly, licks his lips a lot, asks dumb questions, easy to talk to, though, really thick hair, most likely wears a leather jacket, even in the summer
-Crocs: eugh...just run
-Top slider oxfords: SEX...very much sex, british?, or over 40 (in that case...no sex, naughty girl)
-Men's Supra Stacks Skate shoes: cute, easy to talk to, average human, not the greatest looking, but has great features and an awesome personality, the guy you want to date but he's too much of a prude to ever go for it
-Etnies: most likely a douche
-Flip flops: most likely an even bigger douchebag, but if he's gay, he's awesome
-Average, everday Nike Air/Nike Dunk Low type shoes: marry him, good one, good in bed, can be quiet, but very caring and says funny things when you least expect it, lets you be neurotic, protective, smart, and hard-working
I'm sure I forgot many types of shoes and men for that matter, and for that I am sorry! And also, I know that most of the stuff above is far from true. What do I know? There could be the best guy in the world that wears Crocs or Flip flops?! But from my experiences, this is my list. Hopefully some of you girls agree.
The gist of it is....
You can tell a lot about a man by the type of shoes he wears. Am I right?
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Girls Hating Girls
Hey folks! Hope that everyone is having a grand start to their week. I know that it's getting close, if not already, finals time for many of my college readers. And I wish you all great luck on that endevour. I know I will be studying and writing my little butt off all this week and next so this may be my last post for a while. However, I want to just continue to say thanks for reading and caring (well, maybe you don't really care but you really need something to help you procrastinate, in that case...you...are welcome). I'm officially at 600 views! Once I get to 1000 I may post a video of a dance scene of some sort, or maybe something equally ridiculous that people can make fun of me for.
Alright. To the topic, we go!
The topic for today has been done before, I know, and it's also the subject for the classic film: Mean Girls. It's called "Girls Hating Girls"...why do we do this? The answer is not truly clear for anyone. Women wonder why men think we're so crazy, here it is.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that all women hate each other until proven otherwise. Maybe this isn't all true, but I have enough evidence to make this claim.
For example.
While out with your girlfriends/guy friends in da club, or at Dave -n- Busters, whatever there happen to be a big group of girls that all seem to find a way to get invited. One of these girls inevitably is "talking to" or "hitting on" your "man".
Girl 1: Ugh, do you see that girl's heels? Can you say 'whore'?
Girl 2: Yeah totally.
Girl 1: I mean, who does she think she is?
Girl 2: Apparently, she thinks she's pretty hot.
Girl 1: Yeah, she's not at all. Ew! Her teeth are so fu**ed up and that nose...and come on, you can totally tell that she's going to be fat in five years.
Girl 2: And her bronzer is sick. It stops at her neck, I hate that.
Girl 1: Me too. She's such a bitch-whore.
(at this point the girl comes up)
Girl 3: Hey girls!
Both: (overly enthused) HEYYYY!
Girl 1: Cute heels!
Girl 3: Thanks! They were on sale at DSW. (smiles and walks away)
Girl 1: Trashy whore.
Girl 2: Oompa Loompa. Who wears peep toes in the winter?
^Come on girls, you know you've done it or at least know someone who has done it to some degree. We just HATE each other for NO reason. Maybe it's that whole 'animal instinct' thing where we feel intimidated by one another for being as pretty or prettier than us. Who knows.
All I know is that men do not have the same problem at all. If they don't like someone, they simply do not associate with them. Yet, here we sit, pretending to love each other and be all "she's my girl!" to her face then behind her back be like "was it just me, or is she totally gaining the lb's?"
We're really mean to each other.
Another example.
I have a pal, we'll call her Rita. Rita and I go to a party together and there are all these sorority girls there (not saying anything bad about sorority girls! many are very kind) and a few have on semi-short dresses/skirts/low cut shirts.
Rita turns to me, disgusted, talking about how slutty these girls are and how you can see their butt cheeks and all that. It's true. The skirts are short and ridiculous, yet deep inside I KNOW Rita is really regretting wearing those skinny jeans when she could be wearing her short, tight, black skirt. We both know this, but don't say it.
The next weekend Rita wears a skirt and is once agains satisfied with life. That night she talked crap about girls who were wearing tank tops, though...
When it comes to girls, you just can't win.
You have your group of friends and that is it. Everyone else is an awful human being that is either a 1- bitch 2- slut 3- whore 4- or any combo of the three (i.e. "Slore" "Bitch Whore" "Slutty Bitch" "Slutty Ho")
Girls, this is simply appalling behavior.
Why do we feel the need to do this to one another?
NOW I am not in any way implying that every girl is an angel, but everyone deserves respect, especially when you don't know them at all. Girls shouldn't hate each other until proven otherwise, it should be the other way around, am I correct?
Some girls have mastered that. Some girls don't care either way. Some girls just claim "I get along better with guys anyways, I'm a guy's girl!" (yeah, whatever.....like any of us buy that ish, all that really means is that you can't keep any good girl friends because you're a bitch, am I right? <<<--- see, that was mean). Any way you put it, some girls just don't give a crap about each other. Good for you.
If a girl is a beeyotch, then she is one. We don't need to go around saying it behind her back all the time. Because most likely, everyone already knows she is one.
Let's put this into perspective.
If you were out with your friends and you heard some average male "bro" type call a girl a slutty whore, would you laugh or be pissed? If you laugh, then you need to re-evaluate yourself because congratulations you just sent sexism back another 50 years. By calling each other these names, we are encouraging guys to do it too. To that I say... "AW HELL NAW!" (NeNe Leaks-Real Housewife of Atlanta). Guys like us when we are fighting with eachother, it gives them entertainment and keeps us from thinking of the true "enemy" which is them (That sounded bad..I'm not a man-hater, I swear).
Here is my challenge to all of you, and MYSELF especially included, next time you see a girl dressed in a provacative way or even just breathing wrong (as they so often do when they're slores < oops!) bite your damn tongue. Don't say a word, don't tweet about it, don't make an annoying facebook status about it, don't even freaking think it! Let it go. Breathe out. Breathe in. Very good. I'm so proud.
You're allowed to hate people. People are morons and so often do deserve to be disliked, but you should respect people, especially fellow women.
As Ginger Spice always said "Girl Powaa!"
Until Next Time,
Kaitie xo
Alright. To the topic, we go!
The topic for today has been done before, I know, and it's also the subject for the classic film: Mean Girls. It's called "Girls Hating Girls"...why do we do this? The answer is not truly clear for anyone. Women wonder why men think we're so crazy, here it is.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that all women hate each other until proven otherwise. Maybe this isn't all true, but I have enough evidence to make this claim.
For example.
While out with your girlfriends/guy friends in da club, or at Dave -n- Busters, whatever there happen to be a big group of girls that all seem to find a way to get invited. One of these girls inevitably is "talking to" or "hitting on" your "man".
Girl 1: Ugh, do you see that girl's heels? Can you say 'whore'?
Girl 2: Yeah totally.
Girl 1: I mean, who does she think she is?
Girl 2: Apparently, she thinks she's pretty hot.
Girl 1: Yeah, she's not at all. Ew! Her teeth are so fu**ed up and that nose...and come on, you can totally tell that she's going to be fat in five years.
Girl 2: And her bronzer is sick. It stops at her neck, I hate that.
Girl 1: Me too. She's such a bitch-whore.
(at this point the girl comes up)
Girl 3: Hey girls!
Both: (overly enthused) HEYYYY!
Girl 1: Cute heels!
Girl 3: Thanks! They were on sale at DSW. (smiles and walks away)
Girl 1: Trashy whore.
Girl 2: Oompa Loompa. Who wears peep toes in the winter?
^Come on girls, you know you've done it or at least know someone who has done it to some degree. We just HATE each other for NO reason. Maybe it's that whole 'animal instinct' thing where we feel intimidated by one another for being as pretty or prettier than us. Who knows.
All I know is that men do not have the same problem at all. If they don't like someone, they simply do not associate with them. Yet, here we sit, pretending to love each other and be all "she's my girl!" to her face then behind her back be like "was it just me, or is she totally gaining the lb's?"
We're really mean to each other.
Another example.
I have a pal, we'll call her Rita. Rita and I go to a party together and there are all these sorority girls there (not saying anything bad about sorority girls! many are very kind) and a few have on semi-short dresses/skirts/low cut shirts.
Rita turns to me, disgusted, talking about how slutty these girls are and how you can see their butt cheeks and all that. It's true. The skirts are short and ridiculous, yet deep inside I KNOW Rita is really regretting wearing those skinny jeans when she could be wearing her short, tight, black skirt. We both know this, but don't say it.
The next weekend Rita wears a skirt and is once agains satisfied with life. That night she talked crap about girls who were wearing tank tops, though...
When it comes to girls, you just can't win.
You have your group of friends and that is it. Everyone else is an awful human being that is either a 1- bitch 2- slut 3- whore 4- or any combo of the three (i.e. "Slore" "Bitch Whore" "Slutty Bitch" "Slutty Ho")
Girls, this is simply appalling behavior.
Why do we feel the need to do this to one another?
NOW I am not in any way implying that every girl is an angel, but everyone deserves respect, especially when you don't know them at all. Girls shouldn't hate each other until proven otherwise, it should be the other way around, am I correct?
Some girls have mastered that. Some girls don't care either way. Some girls just claim "I get along better with guys anyways, I'm a guy's girl!" (yeah, whatever.....like any of us buy that ish, all that really means is that you can't keep any good girl friends because you're a bitch, am I right? <<<--- see, that was mean). Any way you put it, some girls just don't give a crap about each other. Good for you.
If a girl is a beeyotch, then she is one. We don't need to go around saying it behind her back all the time. Because most likely, everyone already knows she is one.
Let's put this into perspective.
If you were out with your friends and you heard some average male "bro" type call a girl a slutty whore, would you laugh or be pissed? If you laugh, then you need to re-evaluate yourself because congratulations you just sent sexism back another 50 years. By calling each other these names, we are encouraging guys to do it too. To that I say... "AW HELL NAW!" (NeNe Leaks-Real Housewife of Atlanta). Guys like us when we are fighting with eachother, it gives them entertainment and keeps us from thinking of the true "enemy" which is them (That sounded bad..I'm not a man-hater, I swear).
Here is my challenge to all of you, and MYSELF especially included, next time you see a girl dressed in a provacative way or even just breathing wrong (as they so often do when they're slores < oops!) bite your damn tongue. Don't say a word, don't tweet about it, don't make an annoying facebook status about it, don't even freaking think it! Let it go. Breathe out. Breathe in. Very good. I'm so proud.
You're allowed to hate people. People are morons and so often do deserve to be disliked, but you should respect people, especially fellow women.
As Ginger Spice always said "Girl Powaa!"
Until Next Time,
Kaitie xo
Monday, November 28, 2011
I'm an Idiot..no but really.
Hey all! I hope you guys all had a marvelous Thanksgiving! I know I did. I ate so much that I was in physical pain, so I would say it was a successful year. There are so many things to be thankful for in life and I think we all really do forget that, which is why this holiday is so nice because it brings you together with loved ones and makes you appreciate one another...as well as the amazing-ness of mashed potatoes and gravy (appreciate).
It's been a while since I've blogged, and to my Russian fans, I'm sorry.
Anyways, I feel like there really is so much that I could say right now but today I thought I would try something a little different. Usually, the majority of these blogs are criticizing others and society in general. Today, I say, no.
Today, I will be criticizing myself.
No one is perfect, I can understand this. I definitely am not. Today has been a bad day as far as brains go for me. I don't know what it is but no amount of coffee can seem to save me on this horrid Monday. My moron-level is out of the roof. I hope that while reading this, some people may be able to feel better about themselves.
First off, let me say that I'm running on four hours of sleep. I woke up super early to drive back to school today and didn't sleep well last night so this might have something to do with it. Besides the fact that it's a Monday...and a Monday after a holiday weekend at that.
OK. So it all started when I got back to my apartment today. I put my key in the door and it would not open. I was sincerely panicking. Heart racing, palms sweating. I was locked out! Then I realized I was using my car key. Embarassing. But I got over it.
So then I get to my Marketing class this morning, but first I had to get a very large coffee. I spilled the coffee on my vagina. It kind of hurt, but it was more humiliating than anything because then there was this horrific wet spot on my crotch for at least an hour. It wasn't much and I am wearing dark pants, but inside I was very upset with myself.
Next, I go to the library and am reading while eating a granola bar and suddenly there is this large boom (for some reason, this university thinks it's okay to have a construction zone inside of the library in the middle of the day). I gasp and jump, then proceed to laugh at myself. I'm on the "silent reading" floor mind you, and I get shushed. Literally, someone said "SHH!" It's even more mortifying because I was laughing at myself, not even with someone.
At this point I already feel like an ass hole.
I go to my next class and make a vow to myself to be as non-embarassing as possible. So I'm sitting there, loving life, being silent when the professor starts talking and I'm totally blocking him out then suddenly he goes "Does anyone have any questions about the final exam?" So I raise my hand (WHICH I NEVER DO!...and vowed not to speak today, also..and I'm the only one who raised it) so he calls on me. Then I ask "Is the exam cumulative?" And he proceeds to answer, but I find it strange that a bunch of people are giving me weird looks and that he sounds annoyed. Then I realize he just explained it while I was blocking him out/updating my planner. FML. I'm one of those people....
Later in the same class period, we are discussing nature and what words come to mind when we think of nature. Everyone says all of these great words like "isolation" "peace" "inspiring" things like that. Then my prof calls on me and what do I say? What's the first thing that comes to mind, you ask? "Trees," I respond. -_-
I hate myself at this point.
Finally, I decide the best thing for me and all of humanity is for me to get home as soon as possible and avoid all human contact until that point. I get to the shuttle stop where I catch the bus to my apartment and there's this little red-headed BITCH who is always there and she always cuts in front of everyone to get on the bus first even if others have been there long before her. Seriously, she always does. It's rude and annoying. Just because you're like 4' 2" doesn't give you the right to cut everyone off in life!
Today, of course, was the day I decided to teach her a lesson.
I saw the shuttle coming on the horizon. I looked over at her. She was geared up, ready to go, pushing her little glasses up on her nose. This ginger was not going to beat me today!! I was there at least 5 minutes longer than her.
She starts inching forward. I start inching forward. The bus pulls up and I make my move, swift and sure.
HA! I've won! I have finally beaten the dwarf girl to the bus. Victory tasted sweet on my tongue.
Then...she gains on me!!!! I SWEAR! This girl is nuts. So I decide this is not happening. She can't cheat. I was to the door first. That is it. I open the door with all my might, and the wind knocks it open even more and hits the girl in the chest.
"I'm sorry!" I say. She says nothing, looking pissed as all hell.
I feel like I just punched a baby.
All this girl has is the fact that she is the first on the shuttle. She lives for this. And I tore it away from her and knocked her boobs with the heavy door.
What is wrong with me?
When I finally am in the safety of my own apartment, I realize my tank top under my shirt is on backwards.....
At this point it's only 2 in the afternoon. I sincerely hope nothing else goes too strangely for me today. The idiocy that is my life is starting to get out of hand.
So there you go. I can sit here and blog all I want about how stupid people are and how awkward people like Kristen Stewart are, but at the end of the day I'm the worst of them all.
Sigh.
Have a good week people, God help us all.
Until next time (or as the Russians would say: До следующего раза),
Kaitie xo
It's been a while since I've blogged, and to my Russian fans, I'm sorry.
Anyways, I feel like there really is so much that I could say right now but today I thought I would try something a little different. Usually, the majority of these blogs are criticizing others and society in general. Today, I say, no.
Today, I will be criticizing myself.
No one is perfect, I can understand this. I definitely am not. Today has been a bad day as far as brains go for me. I don't know what it is but no amount of coffee can seem to save me on this horrid Monday. My moron-level is out of the roof. I hope that while reading this, some people may be able to feel better about themselves.
First off, let me say that I'm running on four hours of sleep. I woke up super early to drive back to school today and didn't sleep well last night so this might have something to do with it. Besides the fact that it's a Monday...and a Monday after a holiday weekend at that.
OK. So it all started when I got back to my apartment today. I put my key in the door and it would not open. I was sincerely panicking. Heart racing, palms sweating. I was locked out! Then I realized I was using my car key. Embarassing. But I got over it.
So then I get to my Marketing class this morning, but first I had to get a very large coffee. I spilled the coffee on my vagina. It kind of hurt, but it was more humiliating than anything because then there was this horrific wet spot on my crotch for at least an hour. It wasn't much and I am wearing dark pants, but inside I was very upset with myself.
Next, I go to the library and am reading while eating a granola bar and suddenly there is this large boom (for some reason, this university thinks it's okay to have a construction zone inside of the library in the middle of the day). I gasp and jump, then proceed to laugh at myself. I'm on the "silent reading" floor mind you, and I get shushed. Literally, someone said "SHH!" It's even more mortifying because I was laughing at myself, not even with someone.
At this point I already feel like an ass hole.
I go to my next class and make a vow to myself to be as non-embarassing as possible. So I'm sitting there, loving life, being silent when the professor starts talking and I'm totally blocking him out then suddenly he goes "Does anyone have any questions about the final exam?" So I raise my hand (WHICH I NEVER DO!...and vowed not to speak today, also..and I'm the only one who raised it) so he calls on me. Then I ask "Is the exam cumulative?" And he proceeds to answer, but I find it strange that a bunch of people are giving me weird looks and that he sounds annoyed. Then I realize he just explained it while I was blocking him out/updating my planner. FML. I'm one of those people....
Later in the same class period, we are discussing nature and what words come to mind when we think of nature. Everyone says all of these great words like "isolation" "peace" "inspiring" things like that. Then my prof calls on me and what do I say? What's the first thing that comes to mind, you ask? "Trees," I respond. -_-
I hate myself at this point.
Finally, I decide the best thing for me and all of humanity is for me to get home as soon as possible and avoid all human contact until that point. I get to the shuttle stop where I catch the bus to my apartment and there's this little red-headed BITCH who is always there and she always cuts in front of everyone to get on the bus first even if others have been there long before her. Seriously, she always does. It's rude and annoying. Just because you're like 4' 2" doesn't give you the right to cut everyone off in life!
Today, of course, was the day I decided to teach her a lesson.
I saw the shuttle coming on the horizon. I looked over at her. She was geared up, ready to go, pushing her little glasses up on her nose. This ginger was not going to beat me today!! I was there at least 5 minutes longer than her.
She starts inching forward. I start inching forward. The bus pulls up and I make my move, swift and sure.
HA! I've won! I have finally beaten the dwarf girl to the bus. Victory tasted sweet on my tongue.
Then...she gains on me!!!! I SWEAR! This girl is nuts. So I decide this is not happening. She can't cheat. I was to the door first. That is it. I open the door with all my might, and the wind knocks it open even more and hits the girl in the chest.
"I'm sorry!" I say. She says nothing, looking pissed as all hell.
I feel like I just punched a baby.
All this girl has is the fact that she is the first on the shuttle. She lives for this. And I tore it away from her and knocked her boobs with the heavy door.
What is wrong with me?
When I finally am in the safety of my own apartment, I realize my tank top under my shirt is on backwards.....
At this point it's only 2 in the afternoon. I sincerely hope nothing else goes too strangely for me today. The idiocy that is my life is starting to get out of hand.
So there you go. I can sit here and blog all I want about how stupid people are and how awkward people like Kristen Stewart are, but at the end of the day I'm the worst of them all.
Sigh.
Have a good week people, God help us all.
Until next time (or as the Russians would say: До следующего раза),
Kaitie xo
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Happy Hump Day, my Little Deviants
Hey all! Hope everyone is having a splendid week. I know it's that rough time of year for college students. The assignments are building, finals are looming, Christmas is right around the corner and we're all poor AF and can't afford to buy our loved ones presents. But, it's the most wonderful time of the year.
I don't really have anything of amazing interest to talk about today. I just sort of am going to ramble, so good luck.
First off, I want to say thank you so much to everyone who reads this blog! I've officially hit 500 views (half of them I pay to read..) Who knew that people would actually care what I have to say? Loving you all! Baby monsters. Also...a shoutout to Grace Hirt for being the first person ever to tell me to get a blog. And also, thanks to my parents for having me and for mixing chromosomes to make the most awkward 20 year old ever. (overstatement probably) Another thanks to my Russian fanbase. According to my blog stats, I have quite a big one over there! Making a mental note to learn some Russian. Love Moscow in the summer. And finally a big thanks to all the idiots out there who make this blog so easy to write about.
Secondly, the poll has been closed about most over-talked about subject of the month. The winner is, of course, the loveable Kim Kardashian and her divorce from NBA star (?) Kris Humphries...who will be irrelevant in about two months and since there is a lockout will probably be working at your local Dunkin Donuts within the year. The second place winner was Justin Beiber and his baby-daddy allegation. I won't do these idiots the pleasure of talking about them, and quite frankly, they don't need to be talked about any fucking more. I'm done. You're done. We need to move on and start talking about more important things like why is Starbucks coffee so expensive and why is Snooki able to get a book published but I can't? Mysteries of life.
Alright, now let's real talk peeps.
Today in class we were talking about "The Guy Code" and "The Girl Code" (yes, this is what we do in college classes). The "Guy Code" as described my my text book (yes, text book) is as follows:
1. Boy's Don't Cry -- Well, okay, I get this. But girls that walk around crying all the time are looked down upon too. No one should show THAT much emotion.
2. It's better to be mad than sad -- when I get mad I tend to yell at inanimate objects, so in this way, I believe it's helpful
3. Don't get mad, get even. -- sounds like something from the Little Rascals
4. Take it like a man. --take what...exactly?
5. He who has the most toys when he dies, wins. -- sounds like a weird version of Monopoly
6. Just do it OR Ride or Die -- douchebagery
7. Size Matters -- if you're allowed to judge the size of my boobs, waist, ass, etc. I sure as hell am allowed to judge your dick size, ass wipe.
8. I don't stop to ask for directions -- haha, every guy I've ever known in life...
9. Nice guys finish last -- hence why almost everyone in society is a complete and utter tool
10. It's all Good -- the reason any couple has ever fought or argued
I found this list very intriguing for many reasons as stated above. Number 8 was extremely satisfying to me because I have never known a single person with a penis who has ever said "hmm, I think I'm lost, let me ask for directions" whereas a woman asks directions or googlemap's them before even thinking of leaving the house.
Life. is. funny that way.
Girls, we discussed, have a lot more freedom to do whatever they want. We can be strippers, senators, or senior vice presidents. We can be anything we want to be.
But we still have to wear a push up bra and heels while doing it.
Unless you're Hillary Clinton.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FdDqSvJ6aHc
Which reminded me of this skit, which I forever will love ^^
I had something else to write about but I completely forgot. Therefore, that's all I've got. Just a little something to get people through the week!
PS. If you don't know what the Hunger Games is....be sure to check out the links listed on the side of this page. Simply. Amazing.
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
I don't really have anything of amazing interest to talk about today. I just sort of am going to ramble, so good luck.
First off, I want to say thank you so much to everyone who reads this blog! I've officially hit 500 views (half of them I pay to read..) Who knew that people would actually care what I have to say? Loving you all! Baby monsters. Also...a shoutout to Grace Hirt for being the first person ever to tell me to get a blog. And also, thanks to my parents for having me and for mixing chromosomes to make the most awkward 20 year old ever. (overstatement probably) Another thanks to my Russian fanbase. According to my blog stats, I have quite a big one over there! Making a mental note to learn some Russian. Love Moscow in the summer. And finally a big thanks to all the idiots out there who make this blog so easy to write about.
Secondly, the poll has been closed about most over-talked about subject of the month. The winner is, of course, the loveable Kim Kardashian and her divorce from NBA star (?) Kris Humphries...who will be irrelevant in about two months and since there is a lockout will probably be working at your local Dunkin Donuts within the year. The second place winner was Justin Beiber and his baby-daddy allegation. I won't do these idiots the pleasure of talking about them, and quite frankly, they don't need to be talked about any fucking more. I'm done. You're done. We need to move on and start talking about more important things like why is Starbucks coffee so expensive and why is Snooki able to get a book published but I can't? Mysteries of life.
Alright, now let's real talk peeps.
Today in class we were talking about "The Guy Code" and "The Girl Code" (yes, this is what we do in college classes). The "Guy Code" as described my my text book (yes, text book) is as follows:
1. Boy's Don't Cry -- Well, okay, I get this. But girls that walk around crying all the time are looked down upon too. No one should show THAT much emotion.
2. It's better to be mad than sad -- when I get mad I tend to yell at inanimate objects, so in this way, I believe it's helpful
3. Don't get mad, get even. -- sounds like something from the Little Rascals
4. Take it like a man. --take what...exactly?
5. He who has the most toys when he dies, wins. -- sounds like a weird version of Monopoly
6. Just do it OR Ride or Die -- douchebagery
7. Size Matters -- if you're allowed to judge the size of my boobs, waist, ass, etc. I sure as hell am allowed to judge your dick size, ass wipe.
8. I don't stop to ask for directions -- haha, every guy I've ever known in life...
9. Nice guys finish last -- hence why almost everyone in society is a complete and utter tool
10. It's all Good -- the reason any couple has ever fought or argued
I found this list very intriguing for many reasons as stated above. Number 8 was extremely satisfying to me because I have never known a single person with a penis who has ever said "hmm, I think I'm lost, let me ask for directions" whereas a woman asks directions or googlemap's them before even thinking of leaving the house.
Life. is. funny that way.
Girls, we discussed, have a lot more freedom to do whatever they want. We can be strippers, senators, or senior vice presidents. We can be anything we want to be.
But we still have to wear a push up bra and heels while doing it.
Unless you're Hillary Clinton.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FdDqSvJ6aHc
Which reminded me of this skit, which I forever will love ^^
I had something else to write about but I completely forgot. Therefore, that's all I've got. Just a little something to get people through the week!
PS. If you don't know what the Hunger Games is....be sure to check out the links listed on the side of this page. Simply. Amazing.
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Random Topics for Discussion: Restaurants on Saturday Nights and Twihards
Hello, and happy Sunday. I hope everyone is having/had a pleasant weekend. I sure didn't. Only joking, sort of. Today, I am in hyper-procrastination mode. I did get some things done though, in my defense. I filed my nails and deleted my text messages. Big. Day.
Since I'm in such a procrastinating mood, I decided hey! I'll write a blog. So here I am. A few things to talk about. First up. Restaurants on Saturday nights.
First of all, let me just start out by saying that if you plan on going to a restaurant on a Saturday night after 6pm and do not have a reservation, you are an idiot and are setting yourself up for an hour and a half long wait. Unless you to go TGIF!Fridays or some shit like that. Even that is a wait. Or maybe you are prepared to wait. In that case, I reccommend eating a granola bar before you go out because it will be about two hours till you actually eat.
As stated above, don't go to a semi-nice restaurant after 6pm on a Saturday and expect to just walk right on in. I'm one of those idiots. My friend and I decided to have a girls night out (WOO!) and went to this Hibachi place.
The wait for two people was over an hour and a half.
We re-assessed the situation and called ahead to PF Changs at 6:30. They said they could get us in at 8. So whatever. We were totally not wasting our outfits. I put on mascara, for the love of God, I was NOT about to go eat McDonald's. You don't just waste mascara for nothing. OH and I was wearing heels--which never happens because I'm 6' 2" with them.
So we drove to PF Changs aka the most American Chinese food restaurant on the planet. Which I love. (woo! America!) We get to the plaza early so we're walking around, pretending to want to shop, but both of our stomachs are raging with anger. I am continuously burping up the hummus I had at 1 pm. Sorry, gross, I know.
I debate whether or not to look for Christmas gifts, since you know, I'm here and all. But then I panic and decide that I'd rather wait till December 20th at least, just so that I can be involved in a high-stress/panic situation because I thrive off of misery.
We head over at 7:45 and our table is not ready. I'm not mad. I just take it in stride. My friend however is getting cranky much like a baby when they go too long without eating. "Why can't anyone scoot over and let us sit?" she asks angrily, loud enough for all to hear, including getting us a few mean looks. I look over at the benches with elderly folk and families who look like they have been waiting for an hour and wish I could just tell her to shut the fuck up. But that's only because I'm crabby too and we didn't deserve the bench. Those people--they deserved it. We just waltzed right in, barely had to wait for 5 minutes. We were "those" people.
Anyways, so they sit us at this table which is in extremely close proximity to a couple next to us. The couple does not match. He is loud, obnoxious, calls the waitress over every five seconds, asks about everything on the menu..you know the type. I'm guessing the woman he was with was a new girlfriend--perhaps they were on one of their first dates. You could totally just tell. She was this quiet, demure, secretary/teacher type that sat straight up and took very small bites of food. I was mesmerized by them and their weirdness. They didn't say much unless he was talking loudly about the food or his life or his car. It was perplexing.
I learned numerous things about eating out at PF Changs on a Saturday night.
A- There are a lot of interesting people eating dinner in a close proximity.
B- Lots of white people.
C- Waitresses want you up and out within an hour.
D- Don't ask for that extra cup of rice, you ass hole.
E- Don't order too much of their tea. I have this theory that it's spiked. We were wired for at least two hours after drinking it with giddiness and all around joy.
F- You say that spending almost $30 on yourself is worth it...but deep down you want to die.
G- God forbid it take you longer than 5 minutes to get your card in the check holder.
H- IN AND OUT, IN AND OUT.
Seriously, we were done within an hour. So much for a fun, relaxing time at the restaurant. We had to keep moving so that poor family of six on the bench in the waiting area could be crammed onto a four top table next to someone who most likely is a loud, used car dealer, prick.
But, it's all in good fun.
NEXT TOPIC. Twihards.
I don't want to talk to much about this in fear that I may offend.
First and foremost, I like Twilight. I have nothing against it. I read it before it was popular, so I feel entitled to say that some people are just freaking too nuts about it. I must say, it's not the best writing. It's an interesting story...but come ON people...Breaking Dawn was like 800 pages of nothing except a teenage pregnancy and a whiny werewolf who marks his territory on a newborn.
I'm watching this youtube video with this bitch who is like crying with joy because she brushed Rob Pattinson's arm. She claims she will never wash her arm again. She will also never get laid.
Then they cast the most boring, awkward actress on the face of the planet to play the main character. Yes, I'm talking about K Stew. She's so awkward, and anyone who says differently might be deranged. How is it that we as a collective audience are supposed to believe that this pale, awkward, boring AF girl with big ears is supposed to make this sexy vampire and werewolf, oh, and all average human boys she encounters, fall in love with her?
Um, please.
I don't think she's a bad actress. I just think the character mix is frightening on many levels.
You have Rob Pattinson who's like this sexy train wreck with the dirtiest hair I've ever seen that can't seem to say anything without making everyone uncomfortable. Then there's Taylor Lautner, who's like this sexy guy with a dog face that has the voice of Mincus from Boy Meets World. You have the complacent dad character who's a cop that never seems to be around. This way too serious wolf pack that never wears shirts but always seems to have an endless supply of cut off shorts. This pale, weird vampire family that never smiles except for that pixie girl with the flawless face. These people take themselves too seriously and I almost wish that the Volturi cult/monks/vampires whatever killed them all in the end because at least then it would be interesting.
BUT.
I'm not dissing it.
I love it, really.
It may sound like I'm dissing it, but it's out of love. The only reason that so many people even really hate Twilight is because it's popular and crazy now.
Twihards, my advice to you, is to find a new hobby. Otherwise you most likely will never have a life.
Or maybe try and broaden your horizons and read another book with actual, literary merit.
At the end of the day, yes, I will be in line that first weekend buying my ticket for Breaking Dawn Part 1 (because there couldn't just be one 2 hour long movie where we get to stare at Kristen Stewart with her mouth slightly agape and Rob Pattinson look like he's trying really hard not to poop, no we needed two--greedy studio) and I will most likely enjoy the movie but say I don't only because those three 13 year olds I am stuck sitting in front of will be squealing every time Jacob shows up on screen and cries at the end when Bella inevitably will have her half human/vampire baby with golden hair and flawless skin. They will ruin it for me.
So thanks Twihards, for being complete idiots that ruin the fun of enjoying a book/movie. Thanks, a lot.
Sorry if this blog post was unbelievably random/boring/useless, but honestly, if you don't like it, you don't have to read it.
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
Since I'm in such a procrastinating mood, I decided hey! I'll write a blog. So here I am. A few things to talk about. First up. Restaurants on Saturday nights.
First of all, let me just start out by saying that if you plan on going to a restaurant on a Saturday night after 6pm and do not have a reservation, you are an idiot and are setting yourself up for an hour and a half long wait. Unless you to go TGIF!Fridays or some shit like that. Even that is a wait. Or maybe you are prepared to wait. In that case, I reccommend eating a granola bar before you go out because it will be about two hours till you actually eat.
As stated above, don't go to a semi-nice restaurant after 6pm on a Saturday and expect to just walk right on in. I'm one of those idiots. My friend and I decided to have a girls night out (WOO!) and went to this Hibachi place.
The wait for two people was over an hour and a half.
We re-assessed the situation and called ahead to PF Changs at 6:30. They said they could get us in at 8. So whatever. We were totally not wasting our outfits. I put on mascara, for the love of God, I was NOT about to go eat McDonald's. You don't just waste mascara for nothing. OH and I was wearing heels--which never happens because I'm 6' 2" with them.
So we drove to PF Changs aka the most American Chinese food restaurant on the planet. Which I love. (woo! America!) We get to the plaza early so we're walking around, pretending to want to shop, but both of our stomachs are raging with anger. I am continuously burping up the hummus I had at 1 pm. Sorry, gross, I know.
I debate whether or not to look for Christmas gifts, since you know, I'm here and all. But then I panic and decide that I'd rather wait till December 20th at least, just so that I can be involved in a high-stress/panic situation because I thrive off of misery.
We head over at 7:45 and our table is not ready. I'm not mad. I just take it in stride. My friend however is getting cranky much like a baby when they go too long without eating. "Why can't anyone scoot over and let us sit?" she asks angrily, loud enough for all to hear, including getting us a few mean looks. I look over at the benches with elderly folk and families who look like they have been waiting for an hour and wish I could just tell her to shut the fuck up. But that's only because I'm crabby too and we didn't deserve the bench. Those people--they deserved it. We just waltzed right in, barely had to wait for 5 minutes. We were "those" people.
Anyways, so they sit us at this table which is in extremely close proximity to a couple next to us. The couple does not match. He is loud, obnoxious, calls the waitress over every five seconds, asks about everything on the menu..you know the type. I'm guessing the woman he was with was a new girlfriend--perhaps they were on one of their first dates. You could totally just tell. She was this quiet, demure, secretary/teacher type that sat straight up and took very small bites of food. I was mesmerized by them and their weirdness. They didn't say much unless he was talking loudly about the food or his life or his car. It was perplexing.
I learned numerous things about eating out at PF Changs on a Saturday night.
A- There are a lot of interesting people eating dinner in a close proximity.
B- Lots of white people.
C- Waitresses want you up and out within an hour.
D- Don't ask for that extra cup of rice, you ass hole.
E- Don't order too much of their tea. I have this theory that it's spiked. We were wired for at least two hours after drinking it with giddiness and all around joy.
F- You say that spending almost $30 on yourself is worth it...but deep down you want to die.
G- God forbid it take you longer than 5 minutes to get your card in the check holder.
H- IN AND OUT, IN AND OUT.
Seriously, we were done within an hour. So much for a fun, relaxing time at the restaurant. We had to keep moving so that poor family of six on the bench in the waiting area could be crammed onto a four top table next to someone who most likely is a loud, used car dealer, prick.
But, it's all in good fun.
NEXT TOPIC. Twihards.
I don't want to talk to much about this in fear that I may offend.
First and foremost, I like Twilight. I have nothing against it. I read it before it was popular, so I feel entitled to say that some people are just freaking too nuts about it. I must say, it's not the best writing. It's an interesting story...but come ON people...Breaking Dawn was like 800 pages of nothing except a teenage pregnancy and a whiny werewolf who marks his territory on a newborn.
I'm watching this youtube video with this bitch who is like crying with joy because she brushed Rob Pattinson's arm. She claims she will never wash her arm again. She will also never get laid.
Then they cast the most boring, awkward actress on the face of the planet to play the main character. Yes, I'm talking about K Stew. She's so awkward, and anyone who says differently might be deranged. How is it that we as a collective audience are supposed to believe that this pale, awkward, boring AF girl with big ears is supposed to make this sexy vampire and werewolf, oh, and all average human boys she encounters, fall in love with her?
Um, please.
I don't think she's a bad actress. I just think the character mix is frightening on many levels.
You have Rob Pattinson who's like this sexy train wreck with the dirtiest hair I've ever seen that can't seem to say anything without making everyone uncomfortable. Then there's Taylor Lautner, who's like this sexy guy with a dog face that has the voice of Mincus from Boy Meets World. You have the complacent dad character who's a cop that never seems to be around. This way too serious wolf pack that never wears shirts but always seems to have an endless supply of cut off shorts. This pale, weird vampire family that never smiles except for that pixie girl with the flawless face. These people take themselves too seriously and I almost wish that the Volturi cult/monks/vampires whatever killed them all in the end because at least then it would be interesting.
BUT.
I'm not dissing it.
I love it, really.
It may sound like I'm dissing it, but it's out of love. The only reason that so many people even really hate Twilight is because it's popular and crazy now.
Twihards, my advice to you, is to find a new hobby. Otherwise you most likely will never have a life.
Or maybe try and broaden your horizons and read another book with actual, literary merit.
At the end of the day, yes, I will be in line that first weekend buying my ticket for Breaking Dawn Part 1 (because there couldn't just be one 2 hour long movie where we get to stare at Kristen Stewart with her mouth slightly agape and Rob Pattinson look like he's trying really hard not to poop, no we needed two--greedy studio) and I will most likely enjoy the movie but say I don't only because those three 13 year olds I am stuck sitting in front of will be squealing every time Jacob shows up on screen and cries at the end when Bella inevitably will have her half human/vampire baby with golden hair and flawless skin. They will ruin it for me.
So thanks Twihards, for being complete idiots that ruin the fun of enjoying a book/movie. Thanks, a lot.
Sorry if this blog post was unbelievably random/boring/useless, but honestly, if you don't like it, you don't have to read it.
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
To Date or Not to Date, that is the Question
Hello bloggers! Hope everyone had a fulfilling weekend (doubtful)! I know I sure didn't!
This weekend was counterproductive in many ways. Not only did I not do anything of actual use, I spent way too much money on things I truly didn't need. Such a girl problem, I know.
I spent too much money on clothes specifically. Yes, shame...shame. The purchasing of sweaters was necessary though for it is getting cold out and I need something more fashionable than my outdated sweaters from freshman year (of high school).
And you boys can shut up. I know Call of Duty 16 or whatever is coming out this week and that you will all be spending big bucks to buy it. If you're allowed to spend $60 on a video game that you'll play in a night I'm allowed to spend $60 on 5 sweaters that I can wear all winter.
Anyways, to the point.
From a very young age, us girls are told "You're going to meet the perfect man and he is going to love you for who you are!" blah blah whatever. Usually, more realistic parents will say: "You're going to probably meet your husband in college, please don't get pregnant till you graduate."
And so far, it's looking promising for many young adults. Plenty of girls I know are meeting the love of their life and HURAH! It's very exciting indeed.
But where does that leave the rest of us?
AND do I really even want to start thinking about that?
I can tell you that I personally do not. The thought scares me to death and I literally want to run to the bathroom and crap myself right now thinking about where I'll be in 5 years. (homeless, alone...most likely)
I believe in love, let me just say that. It exists, I've seen it. I'm not THAT bitter.
However, it can't exist for all and I'm sick of people thinking that it can.
Usually you meet your significant other through a friend, or at a bar, or at a party, or at some group/organization, sometimes even in class...
But once we get to the real world and out of the college bubble and we're still alone...then what?!
It's a scary word: dating.
Yes, we must date my friends. I know. I know. It's frightening. And you're right, we don't HAVE to. We could always just have arranged marriages like they did back in the day. Times were easier then, after all.
And of course, we don't have to date. Some people are perfectly happy being single. Yay for you! I'm so glad.
I for one don't even want to think about marriage or kids until I'm close to 30...but still, the time to act is approaching.
10 years ago I was raising Barbies. 10 years from now I may be raising actual, real life, human babies that breathe and cry and poop and have actual needs besides which pair of pink pumps looks best with a fake plastic vagina covered in a sequined mini-skirt.
ANYWAYS. I'm getting ahead of myself...again (shocker)
Dating.
OK, back to the point.
Dating is one of the most, if not the most, awkward forms of human communication on the planet.
Most likely you are going out with a person you barely know. Speaking from a female's perspective I must discuss the process. We worry for days about how to act on said date. The day of the date you shower AND shave your legs (not that he'll be touching them...yet, I'm not that big of a hussy)...and moisturize. You go through 6 outfits at least and end up changing ten minutes before he arrives anyways. What shoes to wear. Heels? Too dressy? What if you're taller than him? No. Flats. Too teacher-y? No. Boots. (summer?) See, problems.
Most likely the guy won't care what you're wearing and if he does, you might as well not bother because he is almost definitely gay. But still. We worry that way.
How much make up is too much? Should I bring floss? What perfume will he like better? Am I wearing deoderant? Will it last the whole night? Are my nails chipping? Why are my bangs doing that? Will this gas go away from the burrito I ate three days ago? Why is the pimple growing and laughing at me? Curly hair or straight hair? Push up bra or no push up bra? Do I want him to think I'm a D cup, really? Should we start this relationship based off of THAT lie? Is wearing this low cut shirt too desperate? Are these skinny jeans too tight? Does my butt look flat? Does my butt look big? Can you see my love handles through this shirt?
-doorbell rings-
You answer happily and in an overly excited manner. He is not as thrilled, but still equally happy. The drive is a bit awkward. You talk about your days. He will drone about work, at this point you try not to talk about the burrito that gave you gas or complain too much about work/school/life in general. Also, avoid gossiping. Basically, if you are a girl, there is not much to talk about at this point it you aren't complaining or talking shit about someone.
You arrive at the restaurant--Applebees. You are extremely overdressed and embarassed to be there. Eating good in the neighborhood, I suppose. At this point, if you are as awkward as I am, you've run out of things to talk about. So you talk about the menu, or the weather, or the fact that your waiter reminds you of your sister/brother/cat/etc. Order an iced tea. It says you're serious and a little bit different.
What to order food wise? Hmm. If you order a salad, you'll look like one of THOSE GIRLS that guys claim to hate (yeah...ok). If you order a burger, you'll most likely get ketchup on your pants. If you order pasta you'll have to clean your chin every five seconds. You decide on a wrap.
So while you sit trying to awkwardly make conversation, you hope that your looks are enough to get you through the evening. Then you get your food and sure enough the wrap falls apart and you're at a complete loss. Meanwhile, the guy is eating his burger happily, loving life, and just kind of watching you (while also checking his phone).
You decide to skip dessert and the check is brought. At this point it hasn't even been an hour. You go to a movie and that awkward moment arises where you don't know who should pay. He insisted on paying for dinner, does that mean he will insist on paying for the movie too, or should you offer again? Should you get popcorn and sno-caps, or will you look like a fat ass? You did just eat dinner. Forget it, you get a cup of water, not a bottle (those are like $6 at movie theaters). At least you guys don't have to talk at this point. He may inch closer to you, this is a good sign. If he is as far away from you as possible, you might as well get up and leave because there is no point in dating someone who acts like you have herpes.
The night finally comes to an end and he drops you off. You awkwardly wait for him to open up your door. For some reason, you just know when a guy is going to do it. He gets out of his door really, super, Edward Cullen, fast or will even say "I'll get it". He walks you to your door. If you're a smart girl, you'll go in for a hug. If you're smart and kind of horny, you'll give him a light kiss (this depends on how long you know him, if this is literally the first meeting, I may judge you), or if you're me you give him a high five for making it through the night.
Sigh.
You walk into your house/apartment/etc. and see your roommate is watching a really good ABC Family original movie and it's almost over and at this point you really wish you wouldn't have wasted your time getting ready and going out with a poor guy that you just high fived.
Huh, after reading this I realize why I'm single.
No, just kidding. We all know I'm single because I have herpes.
Kidding, again.
The moral of the story is this: dating is awkward. It just isn't all that great. It's so much better for love and romance to just happen naturally. This is why I thank God for texting. It isn't nearly as awkward as face to face communication.
I think when you meet someone, you just know if it's going to work out. And if they want it to work out, you'll know too.
Forcing yourself to date is just sad. It's not worth all the effort and hype. It's almost the worst thing ever, I can argue.
Thank God for original TV movies and Dove Chocolate.
I know this was a long one, and if you made it through, thanks for your time,
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
***Also! This blog officially has 400 views! Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to have some good ones coming!
This weekend was counterproductive in many ways. Not only did I not do anything of actual use, I spent way too much money on things I truly didn't need. Such a girl problem, I know.
I spent too much money on clothes specifically. Yes, shame...shame. The purchasing of sweaters was necessary though for it is getting cold out and I need something more fashionable than my outdated sweaters from freshman year (of high school).
And you boys can shut up. I know Call of Duty 16 or whatever is coming out this week and that you will all be spending big bucks to buy it. If you're allowed to spend $60 on a video game that you'll play in a night I'm allowed to spend $60 on 5 sweaters that I can wear all winter.
Anyways, to the point.
From a very young age, us girls are told "You're going to meet the perfect man and he is going to love you for who you are!" blah blah whatever. Usually, more realistic parents will say: "You're going to probably meet your husband in college, please don't get pregnant till you graduate."
And so far, it's looking promising for many young adults. Plenty of girls I know are meeting the love of their life and HURAH! It's very exciting indeed.
But where does that leave the rest of us?
AND do I really even want to start thinking about that?
I can tell you that I personally do not. The thought scares me to death and I literally want to run to the bathroom and crap myself right now thinking about where I'll be in 5 years. (homeless, alone...most likely)
I believe in love, let me just say that. It exists, I've seen it. I'm not THAT bitter.
However, it can't exist for all and I'm sick of people thinking that it can.
Usually you meet your significant other through a friend, or at a bar, or at a party, or at some group/organization, sometimes even in class...
But once we get to the real world and out of the college bubble and we're still alone...then what?!
It's a scary word: dating.
Yes, we must date my friends. I know. I know. It's frightening. And you're right, we don't HAVE to. We could always just have arranged marriages like they did back in the day. Times were easier then, after all.
And of course, we don't have to date. Some people are perfectly happy being single. Yay for you! I'm so glad.
I for one don't even want to think about marriage or kids until I'm close to 30...but still, the time to act is approaching.
10 years ago I was raising Barbies. 10 years from now I may be raising actual, real life, human babies that breathe and cry and poop and have actual needs besides which pair of pink pumps looks best with a fake plastic vagina covered in a sequined mini-skirt.
ANYWAYS. I'm getting ahead of myself...again (shocker)
Dating.
OK, back to the point.
Dating is one of the most, if not the most, awkward forms of human communication on the planet.
Most likely you are going out with a person you barely know. Speaking from a female's perspective I must discuss the process. We worry for days about how to act on said date. The day of the date you shower AND shave your legs (not that he'll be touching them...yet, I'm not that big of a hussy)...and moisturize. You go through 6 outfits at least and end up changing ten minutes before he arrives anyways. What shoes to wear. Heels? Too dressy? What if you're taller than him? No. Flats. Too teacher-y? No. Boots. (summer?) See, problems.
Most likely the guy won't care what you're wearing and if he does, you might as well not bother because he is almost definitely gay. But still. We worry that way.
How much make up is too much? Should I bring floss? What perfume will he like better? Am I wearing deoderant? Will it last the whole night? Are my nails chipping? Why are my bangs doing that? Will this gas go away from the burrito I ate three days ago? Why is the pimple growing and laughing at me? Curly hair or straight hair? Push up bra or no push up bra? Do I want him to think I'm a D cup, really? Should we start this relationship based off of THAT lie? Is wearing this low cut shirt too desperate? Are these skinny jeans too tight? Does my butt look flat? Does my butt look big? Can you see my love handles through this shirt?
-doorbell rings-
You answer happily and in an overly excited manner. He is not as thrilled, but still equally happy. The drive is a bit awkward. You talk about your days. He will drone about work, at this point you try not to talk about the burrito that gave you gas or complain too much about work/school/life in general. Also, avoid gossiping. Basically, if you are a girl, there is not much to talk about at this point it you aren't complaining or talking shit about someone.
You arrive at the restaurant--Applebees. You are extremely overdressed and embarassed to be there. Eating good in the neighborhood, I suppose. At this point, if you are as awkward as I am, you've run out of things to talk about. So you talk about the menu, or the weather, or the fact that your waiter reminds you of your sister/brother/cat/etc. Order an iced tea. It says you're serious and a little bit different.
What to order food wise? Hmm. If you order a salad, you'll look like one of THOSE GIRLS that guys claim to hate (yeah...ok). If you order a burger, you'll most likely get ketchup on your pants. If you order pasta you'll have to clean your chin every five seconds. You decide on a wrap.
So while you sit trying to awkwardly make conversation, you hope that your looks are enough to get you through the evening. Then you get your food and sure enough the wrap falls apart and you're at a complete loss. Meanwhile, the guy is eating his burger happily, loving life, and just kind of watching you (while also checking his phone).
You decide to skip dessert and the check is brought. At this point it hasn't even been an hour. You go to a movie and that awkward moment arises where you don't know who should pay. He insisted on paying for dinner, does that mean he will insist on paying for the movie too, or should you offer again? Should you get popcorn and sno-caps, or will you look like a fat ass? You did just eat dinner. Forget it, you get a cup of water, not a bottle (those are like $6 at movie theaters). At least you guys don't have to talk at this point. He may inch closer to you, this is a good sign. If he is as far away from you as possible, you might as well get up and leave because there is no point in dating someone who acts like you have herpes.
The night finally comes to an end and he drops you off. You awkwardly wait for him to open up your door. For some reason, you just know when a guy is going to do it. He gets out of his door really, super, Edward Cullen, fast or will even say "I'll get it". He walks you to your door. If you're a smart girl, you'll go in for a hug. If you're smart and kind of horny, you'll give him a light kiss (this depends on how long you know him, if this is literally the first meeting, I may judge you), or if you're me you give him a high five for making it through the night.
Sigh.
You walk into your house/apartment/etc. and see your roommate is watching a really good ABC Family original movie and it's almost over and at this point you really wish you wouldn't have wasted your time getting ready and going out with a poor guy that you just high fived.
Huh, after reading this I realize why I'm single.
No, just kidding. We all know I'm single because I have herpes.
Kidding, again.
The moral of the story is this: dating is awkward. It just isn't all that great. It's so much better for love and romance to just happen naturally. This is why I thank God for texting. It isn't nearly as awkward as face to face communication.
I think when you meet someone, you just know if it's going to work out. And if they want it to work out, you'll know too.
Forcing yourself to date is just sad. It's not worth all the effort and hype. It's almost the worst thing ever, I can argue.
Thank God for original TV movies and Dove Chocolate.
I know this was a long one, and if you made it through, thanks for your time,
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
***Also! This blog officially has 400 views! Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to have some good ones coming!
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Confessions of a Wing Woman
Good evening, blogger world! Tonight, I racked my brains for ideas on what to write my blog about for the coming week and came up with a few bright ones. This one seemed to be fresh in mind though, so hear we go..
Every guy claims to need a "wingman" when they go out, you know...a buddy that helps them to get laid. Or as Urban Dictionary (which, if you think about it, is far more reliable than Webster's anyways) puts it:
A Wingman is a guy you bring along with you on singles
outings (like to bars) that helps you out with the women.
Typically in these ways :
• The Wingman will always be there to “occupy” least
attractive girl of the pair so that you may engage in the “hotty”
• Often, when an attractive girl is out with an ugly friend, she often feels restricted to not leave that ugly friend alone, thus making the hot girl, un-touchable.
• When the wingman technique is used, both girls are
approached by the men, and the Wingman automatically
engages in conversation with the ugly girl.
• Now that the hot friend sees that the ugly girl has finally found a man, she is now free to start scouting.
• This is where you come in “unexpectidly” and “accidentaly”, and begin catching up on “old times” with the Wingman.
• The Wingman then offers the ugly girl to dance, (which
rarley happens to her) so she wont be able to resist.
First of all, great grammar and spelling, Urban Dictionary. Second of all, I have witnessed this because I am the ugly friend set out in bullet point #2, but that is okay because for every wingman, there must be a wing woman.
I am that Wing Woman.
The job of a wingwoman is simple:
-Don't you DARE dress as cute as your girl. (meaning I wear yoga pants and a tank top and pray for a miracle..this includes hairstyle)
-Keep quiet.
-Only speak when spoken to.
-Laugh and nod when the boys say funny things, but once again, don't speak.
-Let your friend do the talking.
-Also, if your friend wants to grind on you to look sexy/appeal to her boy's fantasies, you let her.
-You are in charge of getting drinks...but don't speak, still.
-You are also in charge of going to the bathroom with your girl when she needs your opinion question.
-Carry a condom and breathmints for your bestie.
-Make sure the guy she's talking to is not a serial killer or frat boy.
-Do not twat block your girl. Meaning, don't go out with her at all if you are the slightest bit tired and there is a chance of you wanting to go home early.
-For the love of God, don't sing.
-Or speak. Did I say that one?
-Be her beer pong partner if necessary and let her look better than you...this also goes with being the wingman's beer pong partner.
-Don't leave her alone for more than 5 minutes unless she asks you to.
-Try to keep her from spilling on herself and barfing.
-If she starts dancing too early on in the timeline of the party, distract her by laughing and talking about something pointless.
-Don't bring up her ex.
-Don't bring up any of your personal life.
-Make sure your friend's vagina, bra, boobs are not exposed at any point.
-Also, try to keep her from getting arrested.
-And warn her BEFORE you go out to not wear the uncomfortable heels if she is planning on getting trashed. Do not commit to shoes you cannot handle, bitch.
-Try to seem as uninteresting as possible to all members of the opposite sex..to the point where they think you might be a lesbian.
-Don't do your sexy dance...this isn't about you.
-Also, don't play with your hair.
-Compliment your friend as much as possible.
-If your friend screams the boy's name obnoxiously in a way that she would never do in real life if she was sober (i.e. "TYYY---lllllLLLeeerR!!!!!") do not hold it against her character.
-Make sure your friend has her cell phone, ID, etc. if she decides to leave you at the end of the night with her boy-toy, which she inevitably will.
-Give the guy your friend's number if she is too intoxicated to do so herself...also make sure he knows her correct first name.
See! Simple!
Now, I've become an expert on being a wing woman as of lately. Girls are no longer matchmakers, they are babysitters and keepers.
Also, if you are a guy and trying to get with my friend, you should at least try to be nice to me. I don't care if my hair is in a pony tail and I'm not wearing a short enough skirt, you still have to be nice to me. Without me, you are not getting laid tonight. So be careful.
Being an expert wingwoman I have also become very good at spotting fellow wingwomen/men. Especially wingmen. They sort of approach you and ask you the basic questions showing that they are the wingman and not exactly interested in you persay. Take the following conversation for example. This is a real life convo that I had while performing wing woman duty for my friend last weekend.
Boy: What's your name?
Me: Kaitie.
Boy: What?!
Me: KAITIE.
Boy: Cool. I'm (we'll call him...Cody) Cody. What year are you?
Me: Junior. (sips cup--clearly not buying this, annoyed) You?
Boy: Freshman. (ew..)
Me: Where are you living?
Boy: (says dorm name) What's your major?
Me: English. (he doesn't care anyways) You?
Boy: Business. (of course..) Are you a Pi Phi? (sorority)
Me: No.
--At this point the conversation is practically over--
Boy: Do you want to dance?
Me: (takes another sip...pretend to be drunk) I have to pee. Nice to meet you though!
This is how it should've went....
Boy: What's your name?
Me: What does it matter? We both know what you're doing. Don't worry, you don't have to waste your time with me. And I'm not letting your creepy friend take my friend away, so nice try.
But alas, we all have social norms we must follow.
Plus, I don't want to make my friend look bad. It's my job to make her look as good as possible, after all.
These are all very simple guidelines to live by. Sometimes being the sidekick is not a bad thing. Hey, you're not the one making a fool of yourself after all! And sometimes you even get free drinks out of the deal.
Well, hope you liked it and found it somewhat informative.
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
Every guy claims to need a "wingman" when they go out, you know...a buddy that helps them to get laid. Or as Urban Dictionary (which, if you think about it, is far more reliable than Webster's anyways) puts it:
A Wingman is a guy you bring along with you on singles
outings (like to bars) that helps you out with the women.
Typically in these ways :
• The Wingman will always be there to “occupy” least
attractive girl of the pair so that you may engage in the “hotty”
• Often, when an attractive girl is out with an ugly friend, she often feels restricted to not leave that ugly friend alone, thus making the hot girl, un-touchable.
• When the wingman technique is used, both girls are
approached by the men, and the Wingman automatically
engages in conversation with the ugly girl.
• Now that the hot friend sees that the ugly girl has finally found a man, she is now free to start scouting.
• This is where you come in “unexpectidly” and “accidentaly”, and begin catching up on “old times” with the Wingman.
• The Wingman then offers the ugly girl to dance, (which
rarley happens to her) so she wont be able to resist.
First of all, great grammar and spelling, Urban Dictionary. Second of all, I have witnessed this because I am the ugly friend set out in bullet point #2, but that is okay because for every wingman, there must be a wing woman.
I am that Wing Woman.
The job of a wingwoman is simple:
-Don't you DARE dress as cute as your girl. (meaning I wear yoga pants and a tank top and pray for a miracle..this includes hairstyle)
-Keep quiet.
-Only speak when spoken to.
-Laugh and nod when the boys say funny things, but once again, don't speak.
-Let your friend do the talking.
-Also, if your friend wants to grind on you to look sexy/appeal to her boy's fantasies, you let her.
-You are in charge of getting drinks...but don't speak, still.
-You are also in charge of going to the bathroom with your girl when she needs your opinion question.
-Carry a condom and breathmints for your bestie.
-Make sure the guy she's talking to is not a serial killer or frat boy.
-Do not twat block your girl. Meaning, don't go out with her at all if you are the slightest bit tired and there is a chance of you wanting to go home early.
-For the love of God, don't sing.
-Or speak. Did I say that one?
-Be her beer pong partner if necessary and let her look better than you...this also goes with being the wingman's beer pong partner.
-Don't leave her alone for more than 5 minutes unless she asks you to.
-Try to keep her from spilling on herself and barfing.
-If she starts dancing too early on in the timeline of the party, distract her by laughing and talking about something pointless.
-Don't bring up her ex.
-Don't bring up any of your personal life.
-Make sure your friend's vagina, bra, boobs are not exposed at any point.
-Also, try to keep her from getting arrested.
-And warn her BEFORE you go out to not wear the uncomfortable heels if she is planning on getting trashed. Do not commit to shoes you cannot handle, bitch.
-Try to seem as uninteresting as possible to all members of the opposite sex..to the point where they think you might be a lesbian.
-Don't do your sexy dance...this isn't about you.
-Also, don't play with your hair.
-Compliment your friend as much as possible.
-If your friend screams the boy's name obnoxiously in a way that she would never do in real life if she was sober (i.e. "TYYY---lllllLLLeeerR!!!!!") do not hold it against her character.
-Make sure your friend has her cell phone, ID, etc. if she decides to leave you at the end of the night with her boy-toy, which she inevitably will.
-Give the guy your friend's number if she is too intoxicated to do so herself...also make sure he knows her correct first name.
See! Simple!
Now, I've become an expert on being a wing woman as of lately. Girls are no longer matchmakers, they are babysitters and keepers.
Also, if you are a guy and trying to get with my friend, you should at least try to be nice to me. I don't care if my hair is in a pony tail and I'm not wearing a short enough skirt, you still have to be nice to me. Without me, you are not getting laid tonight. So be careful.
Being an expert wingwoman I have also become very good at spotting fellow wingwomen/men. Especially wingmen. They sort of approach you and ask you the basic questions showing that they are the wingman and not exactly interested in you persay. Take the following conversation for example. This is a real life convo that I had while performing wing woman duty for my friend last weekend.
Boy: What's your name?
Me: Kaitie.
Boy: What?!
Me: KAITIE.
Boy: Cool. I'm (we'll call him...Cody) Cody. What year are you?
Me: Junior. (sips cup--clearly not buying this, annoyed) You?
Boy: Freshman. (ew..)
Me: Where are you living?
Boy: (says dorm name) What's your major?
Me: English. (he doesn't care anyways) You?
Boy: Business. (of course..) Are you a Pi Phi? (sorority)
Me: No.
--At this point the conversation is practically over--
Boy: Do you want to dance?
Me: (takes another sip...pretend to be drunk) I have to pee. Nice to meet you though!
This is how it should've went....
Boy: What's your name?
Me: What does it matter? We both know what you're doing. Don't worry, you don't have to waste your time with me. And I'm not letting your creepy friend take my friend away, so nice try.
But alas, we all have social norms we must follow.
Plus, I don't want to make my friend look bad. It's my job to make her look as good as possible, after all.
These are all very simple guidelines to live by. Sometimes being the sidekick is not a bad thing. Hey, you're not the one making a fool of yourself after all! And sometimes you even get free drinks out of the deal.
Well, hope you liked it and found it somewhat informative.
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Halloween
Well it's that time of year again, and by that time of year I mean Yom Kippur.
Just joking. Of course I mean Halloween. The only decent holiday left in my opinion. I mean, how great is it that people give out free candy?! What an act of compassion and caring! (except the people that give out raisins...you're an a-hole, shame on you)
I remember getting so excited, dressing up in my various costumes. Everyone has either been a Hippie, Witch, Rock Star, or Astronaut at least once, correct? One of my favorites was the year I went as a pilgrim. I was into it...I don't know. It was the same year that my sister went as a cow. She hated her life.
When you're younger, you either make your own costume or make your parents shell out the big bucks for a one time wear at super stores, like Target..which I love. You go out with your friends or neighbors or siblings, whatever and you walk around the neighborhood (or in my case your parents drive you to a nice part of town so you don't get attacked or have to walk around without streetlights) Plus the nice neighborhoods always have better candy anyways. I'm talking the Peanut M&M's and Kit Kat bars...ooooOOOooh yeah.
Every house you go to the nice old people would be all "OH WHAT'RE YOU! HOW CUTE! Here you goooo!!" all happily and whatnot and then you'd hop off to the next house hoping you don't run into any of those scary teenagers with their Scream or Michael Myers masks. They freaked me out!
At the end of the night you would all go back home and dump out your copious amounuts of candy on the floor and compare. There was always an unnecessary amount of Smarties and Nestle Crunch bars. And while those are good, enough is enough...you know? Where are the Reese Cups or Airheads?! But the WORST was when you got the Good n Plenty's or Riesen candies (eek! What are we, 70?)
Candy was a very defensive thing back then. My sister and I were very cut throat towards one another. If I thought she was stealing my candy I would yell and scream and threaten..(I was chubby, don't judge). It was all very intense.
Then the candy ended up in the communal bowl anyways because there is only so much candy you can eat in a month. That candy was always the Crunch Bars, Smarties, and Good n Plenty's, by the way.
When you get older, you hit that awkward stage where it's like...you're way too old to go trick or treating. My last year trick or treating was my sophomore year of high school (DON'T JUDGE) and it was such a mistake. Literally almost 75% of the houses we went to said the same thing: "Aren't you too old to be trick or treating?" And I felt like such a little piece of shit.
Yeah, that was my last year.
I say once you're old enough to stop wearing a training bra or have your temporary learner's permit, you are probably too old to be trick or treating.
Then Halloween basically turned into a whore show after that. It became all about who would have the "cutest" aka sluttiest costume of all. The more cleavage and leg showing, the better! Stripper heels CAN go with a firewoman's outfit...don't you know? Basically, shopping for Halloween costumes was easy, you just had to go to the sex shop.
It only got worse in college, because not only do girls dress like sluts, but they are drunk and acting slutty, barfing all over the place and showing their underwear to all. It's all very frightening indeed and gives a whole new meaning to a "scary" Halloween.
The worst is the couples that coordinate their outfits. It makes me want to die a little every time I see it. My parents went as dinosaurs one year. It was horrifying on all levels.
This all just goes to show that you don't need to wear a scary mask in order to frighten people.
Last year I went as Ke$ha, which was fun because I basically got to act like a hot mess the entire night and it was excusable! This year I'm going as a nerd. Which is basically myself, so that won't be too hard.
But I hope everyone has a great Halloween! Stay safe! Dress warm! And as my grandma once said, ladies, "If a guy only wants a scoop..don't give away the whole ice cream truck for free" (I do not think she orginated this statement, but we pretend she did..this is the same grandma that told me if I wasn't married by 30 I should just join a convent)
Anyways.
Happy Halloween!
Just joking. Of course I mean Halloween. The only decent holiday left in my opinion. I mean, how great is it that people give out free candy?! What an act of compassion and caring! (except the people that give out raisins...you're an a-hole, shame on you)
I remember getting so excited, dressing up in my various costumes. Everyone has either been a Hippie, Witch, Rock Star, or Astronaut at least once, correct? One of my favorites was the year I went as a pilgrim. I was into it...I don't know. It was the same year that my sister went as a cow. She hated her life.
When you're younger, you either make your own costume or make your parents shell out the big bucks for a one time wear at super stores, like Target..which I love. You go out with your friends or neighbors or siblings, whatever and you walk around the neighborhood (or in my case your parents drive you to a nice part of town so you don't get attacked or have to walk around without streetlights) Plus the nice neighborhoods always have better candy anyways. I'm talking the Peanut M&M's and Kit Kat bars...ooooOOOooh yeah.
Every house you go to the nice old people would be all "OH WHAT'RE YOU! HOW CUTE! Here you goooo!!" all happily and whatnot and then you'd hop off to the next house hoping you don't run into any of those scary teenagers with their Scream or Michael Myers masks. They freaked me out!
At the end of the night you would all go back home and dump out your copious amounuts of candy on the floor and compare. There was always an unnecessary amount of Smarties and Nestle Crunch bars. And while those are good, enough is enough...you know? Where are the Reese Cups or Airheads?! But the WORST was when you got the Good n Plenty's or Riesen candies (eek! What are we, 70?)
Candy was a very defensive thing back then. My sister and I were very cut throat towards one another. If I thought she was stealing my candy I would yell and scream and threaten..(I was chubby, don't judge). It was all very intense.
Then the candy ended up in the communal bowl anyways because there is only so much candy you can eat in a month. That candy was always the Crunch Bars, Smarties, and Good n Plenty's, by the way.
When you get older, you hit that awkward stage where it's like...you're way too old to go trick or treating. My last year trick or treating was my sophomore year of high school (DON'T JUDGE) and it was such a mistake. Literally almost 75% of the houses we went to said the same thing: "Aren't you too old to be trick or treating?" And I felt like such a little piece of shit.
Yeah, that was my last year.
I say once you're old enough to stop wearing a training bra or have your temporary learner's permit, you are probably too old to be trick or treating.
Then Halloween basically turned into a whore show after that. It became all about who would have the "cutest" aka sluttiest costume of all. The more cleavage and leg showing, the better! Stripper heels CAN go with a firewoman's outfit...don't you know? Basically, shopping for Halloween costumes was easy, you just had to go to the sex shop.
It only got worse in college, because not only do girls dress like sluts, but they are drunk and acting slutty, barfing all over the place and showing their underwear to all. It's all very frightening indeed and gives a whole new meaning to a "scary" Halloween.
The worst is the couples that coordinate their outfits. It makes me want to die a little every time I see it. My parents went as dinosaurs one year. It was horrifying on all levels.
This all just goes to show that you don't need to wear a scary mask in order to frighten people.
Last year I went as Ke$ha, which was fun because I basically got to act like a hot mess the entire night and it was excusable! This year I'm going as a nerd. Which is basically myself, so that won't be too hard.
But I hope everyone has a great Halloween! Stay safe! Dress warm! And as my grandma once said, ladies, "If a guy only wants a scoop..don't give away the whole ice cream truck for free" (I do not think she orginated this statement, but we pretend she did..this is the same grandma that told me if I wasn't married by 30 I should just join a convent)
Anyways.
Happy Halloween!
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Random Thoughts of the Day: Male Rainboots and Elevator Laziness
Hi all! I hope everyone had a fairly good hump Day. We're half way to the weekend people, we got this.
Now, today was kind of a gross day for life, very "Great Depression"-esque. It was rainy and cold and everyone was just crabby and miserable. People who are normally peppy and loving were more like me today, cynical and bitchy. It was nice. Not really.
I don't really have a subject for this post, so just roll with me on this one people. I do however want to bring up a few happenstances that occured today.
First, I want to whine a bit about the laziness of Americans. I know, this subject is old and tired and people just take great offense to it...blah blah. Whatever. You're lazy. I'm lazy. We're all lazy. That is what makes this country so great. So why can't we all just get along, sit down, watch some Biggest Loser and eat bon bons?
Now I must say that not every American is lazy. For example, I see people riding their bikes, even in the rain...which is just beyond inspiring (and also somewhat sad) and working out for 3 hours a day, and running marathons, and eating nothing but vegetables. They go out and get their work done and homework done before 12am. So great...for you...
But don't lie, you would totally rather drink a Salted Caramel Mocha from Starbucks than V8 juice. Like, come on.
Anyways.
I'm at the library today. Doin my thang. I'm on the 7th floor, so it is excusable for me to use the elevator. Whatever. So I get on the elevator to leave and am going down and the elevator stops at the 2nd floor. I'm a bit perplexed as to why it is stopping, but keep to myself.
This girl walks in...no physical ailments (no broken leg, ankle, she looks perfectly freaking healthy..happy as a lark)
She has the gull to turn to me and say "is this going down?"
"Yes, it is," I say in return, thinking 'oh she wants to go up, duh!'
NO This bitch gets on the elevator to go down ONE FLOOR. If you are one of these people...SHAME ON YOU!! It is one floor, one flight of steps....GOING DOWN. Not even going up!!! Which is still inexcusable to me. That's bad enough...but going down. Really? You're going to take the elevator going down ONE FLOOR? You're going to make the whole elevator system stop for your fat, lazy ass because you are incapable of walking down the flight of stairs? By the time you waited for the elevator to even get to the 2nd floor you could have been out of the entire building.
I've walked down from the 2nd to 1st floor at this library, it is not challenging. I understand if you are ill, have an injury, whatever...but this girl did not have anything of the sort.
She was being lazy. And to top it off, she was talking on her cell phone the whole time. Talking on your cell phone in the elevator is just awkward anyways. Elevator rides in general are awkward. I could write a whole "Awkward Elevator" Blog and everyone would understand what I'm saying. But please, girl, can you wait literally 12 seconds to get off the elevator to get on your phone? (and also, you're in a library)
There is a special ring in hell for people like this.
(^okay, that was dramatic...) But seriously?!
Could we be any more lazy?
This truly disappointed me and I just wanted to vomit after it happened. She had quite some nerve, that girl.
Now...moving on to my next subject which literally has nothing to do with elevator laziness.
As I stated earlier, today was a very rainy, wet day. And not just that light, drizzly rain, but a consistent downpour throughout the entire day. I'm talking pancho weather. Like there were some ass holes wearing panchos around campus, which I guess is pretty commendable because I would not be caught DEAD in one of those hideous things.
So anyways, us girls have it very easy in comparison. We put our cute little designer rainboots on, our cute pink raincoats, we get our heavy duty polka dot umbrellas out and walk to class. We still complain, because you know, we're girls...that's what we do! (hence my blog)
"My butt is soaked!"
"Ugh, my hair!"
"Why is it hitting me from the side?!" (because it's fucking windy, this is Ohio.)
And so forth...you get the message.
And yeah, it sucks. It was one of those days that no matter what you wear or how hard you try to put on your rainy best you will still get wet and it sucks, and it's hard, and I just want to cry and get into my snuggie.
BUT
Then you see the male college population. And let me just say, you guys are troopers.
For some reason, our society says that it is not socially acceptable for males to a)wear rainboots (unless you're a fisherman or a serial killer) b)carry umbrellas (unless you are over the age of 25 or are a business man of sorts) or c)own a raincoat (unless it's a Nike brand).
I feel for these guys, really I do. I thank God every night before I go to bed for not giving me a penis for this very reason. The whole walking to class in the cold rain in nothing but a hooded sweatshirt.
Guys, I am so sorry.
And also, if you want to wear rainboots, a raincoat, or carry an umbrella...I WILL NOT JUDGE YOU!! (unless the rainboots are girlie...or the raincoat...or if your umbrella is any color but black)--just kidding...kind of
But seriously, I've never felt more bad for the male sex in my life as I did today. One guy even said "I wish it was acceptable for guys to wear rainboots..."
To that random guy, I say YES! You can wear rainboots! You can do anything you want to do! This is America! America is the land of the free, where we should be able to do anything we want to do (within confines). But if not, if you truly are uncomfortable with challenging your societal norms, just get yourself drenched, go home, eat a frozen pizza, and play XBox...that's American too.
Now if you'll excuse me, my ass is wet and my feet are cold because of the rain, so I'm going to go take a long hot shower instead of doing homework...then maybe I'll facebook.
Ahh, laziness. The bliss.
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
Now, today was kind of a gross day for life, very "Great Depression"-esque. It was rainy and cold and everyone was just crabby and miserable. People who are normally peppy and loving were more like me today, cynical and bitchy. It was nice. Not really.
I don't really have a subject for this post, so just roll with me on this one people. I do however want to bring up a few happenstances that occured today.
First, I want to whine a bit about the laziness of Americans. I know, this subject is old and tired and people just take great offense to it...blah blah. Whatever. You're lazy. I'm lazy. We're all lazy. That is what makes this country so great. So why can't we all just get along, sit down, watch some Biggest Loser and eat bon bons?
Now I must say that not every American is lazy. For example, I see people riding their bikes, even in the rain...which is just beyond inspiring (and also somewhat sad) and working out for 3 hours a day, and running marathons, and eating nothing but vegetables. They go out and get their work done and homework done before 12am. So great...for you...
But don't lie, you would totally rather drink a Salted Caramel Mocha from Starbucks than V8 juice. Like, come on.
Anyways.
I'm at the library today. Doin my thang. I'm on the 7th floor, so it is excusable for me to use the elevator. Whatever. So I get on the elevator to leave and am going down and the elevator stops at the 2nd floor. I'm a bit perplexed as to why it is stopping, but keep to myself.
This girl walks in...no physical ailments (no broken leg, ankle, she looks perfectly freaking healthy..happy as a lark)
She has the gull to turn to me and say "is this going down?"
"Yes, it is," I say in return, thinking 'oh she wants to go up, duh!'
NO This bitch gets on the elevator to go down ONE FLOOR. If you are one of these people...SHAME ON YOU!! It is one floor, one flight of steps....GOING DOWN. Not even going up!!! Which is still inexcusable to me. That's bad enough...but going down. Really? You're going to take the elevator going down ONE FLOOR? You're going to make the whole elevator system stop for your fat, lazy ass because you are incapable of walking down the flight of stairs? By the time you waited for the elevator to even get to the 2nd floor you could have been out of the entire building.
I've walked down from the 2nd to 1st floor at this library, it is not challenging. I understand if you are ill, have an injury, whatever...but this girl did not have anything of the sort.
She was being lazy. And to top it off, she was talking on her cell phone the whole time. Talking on your cell phone in the elevator is just awkward anyways. Elevator rides in general are awkward. I could write a whole "Awkward Elevator" Blog and everyone would understand what I'm saying. But please, girl, can you wait literally 12 seconds to get off the elevator to get on your phone? (and also, you're in a library)
There is a special ring in hell for people like this.
(^okay, that was dramatic...) But seriously?!
Could we be any more lazy?
This truly disappointed me and I just wanted to vomit after it happened. She had quite some nerve, that girl.
Now...moving on to my next subject which literally has nothing to do with elevator laziness.
As I stated earlier, today was a very rainy, wet day. And not just that light, drizzly rain, but a consistent downpour throughout the entire day. I'm talking pancho weather. Like there were some ass holes wearing panchos around campus, which I guess is pretty commendable because I would not be caught DEAD in one of those hideous things.
So anyways, us girls have it very easy in comparison. We put our cute little designer rainboots on, our cute pink raincoats, we get our heavy duty polka dot umbrellas out and walk to class. We still complain, because you know, we're girls...that's what we do! (hence my blog)
"My butt is soaked!"
"Ugh, my hair!"
"Why is it hitting me from the side?!" (because it's fucking windy, this is Ohio.)
And so forth...you get the message.
And yeah, it sucks. It was one of those days that no matter what you wear or how hard you try to put on your rainy best you will still get wet and it sucks, and it's hard, and I just want to cry and get into my snuggie.
BUT
Then you see the male college population. And let me just say, you guys are troopers.
For some reason, our society says that it is not socially acceptable for males to a)wear rainboots (unless you're a fisherman or a serial killer) b)carry umbrellas (unless you are over the age of 25 or are a business man of sorts) or c)own a raincoat (unless it's a Nike brand).
I feel for these guys, really I do. I thank God every night before I go to bed for not giving me a penis for this very reason. The whole walking to class in the cold rain in nothing but a hooded sweatshirt.
Guys, I am so sorry.
And also, if you want to wear rainboots, a raincoat, or carry an umbrella...I WILL NOT JUDGE YOU!! (unless the rainboots are girlie...or the raincoat...or if your umbrella is any color but black)--just kidding...kind of
But seriously, I've never felt more bad for the male sex in my life as I did today. One guy even said "I wish it was acceptable for guys to wear rainboots..."
To that random guy, I say YES! You can wear rainboots! You can do anything you want to do! This is America! America is the land of the free, where we should be able to do anything we want to do (within confines). But if not, if you truly are uncomfortable with challenging your societal norms, just get yourself drenched, go home, eat a frozen pizza, and play XBox...that's American too.
Now if you'll excuse me, my ass is wet and my feet are cold because of the rain, so I'm going to go take a long hot shower instead of doing homework...then maybe I'll facebook.
Ahh, laziness. The bliss.
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
Monday, October 17, 2011
Older Blog That I Just Found
Hey all! Hope everyone is having a great Monday (not likely, I know, but I'm allowed to say it still). Currently, my internet is not working in my apartment which blows big ones. It's a hard life when you can't check your facebook, twitter, blogger (wink, wink!), yahoonews, imdb, youtube, dsw.com, weatherchannel.com, bank account, hbogo.com (so I can watch True Blood over and over and over) and any other obscure website that I shouldn't be on because of my crap ton of homework due.
Anyways, so since my internet was not working I decided to look through some of my old saved files in mydocuments and clean it out, once again, anything to avoid doing homework. So while looking through I found a blog I made from my freshman year of college, which was 2 years ago. I realized not much has changed since then. So I decided to share it all with you again, here it is:
**NOTE: This was written in the beginning of spring semester, dead of winter, and I had all day classes starting at 8am, life was hard....ok continue...
Anyways, so since my internet was not working I decided to look through some of my old saved files in mydocuments and clean it out, once again, anything to avoid doing homework. So while looking through I found a blog I made from my freshman year of college, which was 2 years ago. I realized not much has changed since then. So I decided to share it all with you again, here it is:
**NOTE: This was written in the beginning of spring semester, dead of winter, and I had all day classes starting at 8am, life was hard....ok continue...
First off, like most human beings on earth I despise Mondays. The reasons that people hate Mondays are unexplainable. There’s just something about waking up at the ass crack of dawn, getting yourself ready, and walking all the way across campus in the freezing cold with nothing but a granola bar in your system. After sitting there, waiting for your professor to actually get to the point of the conversation, you realize there was no point of rolling your butt out of bed in the first place. So you walk the mile back to your dorm and try to nap while your roommate is spraying two cans of hairspray on her hair just to go to class. As the day goes on, not much changes. You sit through class after class as you try to keep your eyes open. You’re paying thousands of dollars just to sit in a room as a person babbles on about a subject that doesn’t even pertain to your future what-so-ever. Like seriously, biology environments of life to be an English major? Does that even make sense to you?! No, it doesn’t make sense to me either. As you sit in your devastatingly boring history class, staring at a map on the board as your scatter brained professor drones on and on and on about the Mughals of the Persians that has nothing to do with you now (that was 600 years ago), you’re stomach growls embarrassingly loud. Because, yes, you’ve barely eaten anything but a granola bar and fruit snacks (which you almost choked on) all day. The stupid meat head in front of you turns around and gives you a weird look because yes it was that loud. You give him the death stare because it’s not your fault you’re sitting in a crowded lecture hall and you just happen to be starving. You’re eyes threaten to tell the girl sitting next to him how he has been talking about how hot she was and how he wanted to bang her ten minutes before she entered the classroom. I’m sure he couldn’t read my look, but I was thinking it…oh I was thinking it. How is it that every time it’s extremely quiet in the classroom your stomach decides to make this huge obnoxious noise? Yet ,when there’s all this hustle and bustle, no noise at all. Then you can’t even pay attention to the material in class because you’re too paranoid your stomach will growl like a freaking tractor roaring through the room.
Finally, the day is done. But no day is truly done in college. For there are chapters and chapters of reading that should have been done days ago. Surprise quizzes that you forgot you had because god forbid you don’t check your SYLLABUS ONE FREAKING DAY. Poems you have to analyze, papers to be written, drafts needed to be revised. Finally, it’s time to relax and hang out with your friends. You go to a concert with your roommate, and she sprains her ankle, making the rest of the night completely filled with tension – literally. But all is good again when you settle back and turn on MTV with some ramen. No good MTV show starts till 10, and by the time you watch all that, then get back to your homework, you don’t get to bed until 12. But that’s early for a college student, hey, at least you’ll get 7 hours of sleep. That’s so refreshing.
Okay, well I hope you all enjoyed that, and if not...that's ok. I probably wouldn't either, but maybe you can relate to my monday feelings.
Thank God for granola bars! Right?
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Dear 14 Year Old Self
As we speak I should be writing an actual real life thing called an essay for a lit class that I can't stand. Due tomorrow. I've come pretty far and written a- my name b- the date and c- a lame title that will have to be changed. That was 40 minutes ago.
Here I sit wondering what my life has come to and why I feel that it is okay to write on this blog instead of write this paper. My answer is...that I do not know, but I do know that I am a horrible, awful person and should feel like a huge fat idiot for not even attempting to write an introduction paragraph before logging onto blogspot.
Anyways.
The other day I was at home cleaning out my bookshelf. Deep within the confines of said bookshelf I found some pretty frightening things, like yearbooks from 5th grade that I wish I could burn for fear that people will see my man haircut and awkward chub. I also found a cell phone from like 1985 (it didn't even have A CAMERA!!! shock ensues..) some books from when I was probably 2 years old. Goodnight Moon, anyone?
But my most important find was my journal from freshman year of high school where I wrote about literally the stupidest things ever including boys I liked that didn't even know I existed, family problems that I cringe at now (but really Mom, couldn't you have picked me up at 11 instead of 10:30...what difference does that half hour really make?), songs that I wrote that sounded eerily like Kelly Clarkson's Miss. Independent, some pictures that I thought were good at the time (I had a strange obsession with eyes and eyebrows...which are just frightening) just really a lot of embarassing shit that I don't ever want anybody to see. Like I really need to burn this stuff in case I ever die in a freak accident like those people in Final Destination because I don't want my parents going through my stuff and finding this ridiculously disturbing journal with badly ryhmned songs and a bunch of sketches on human eyeballs.
My journal seemed to be going pretty well for about three months and then I just sort of forgot about it, which is so typical for journals or diaries if you think about it. Really, anyone who has kept a diary and/or journal for more than a year and ACTUALLY writes in it daily or every other day or something, I commend you.
One of my last entires was something that terrified me as I sat there reading it in my room at 2 am this past weekend, I died laughing and also died of embrassment for my 14-year old self.
This is what it says:
"Dear Diary,
Today I was thinking that I really need to make a life plan. I feel so pressured to have a plan. I want to go to college DUH. So I'm going to make a list of things I want to do:
1-Pass my OGTs next year (woo! go me, I did pass, much like the other 98% of my grade..)
2-Get my license (barely made that one...road rage)
3-Find a date to homecoming next year and not be so lame!!! (ha...that never happened, I will forever be lame)
4-See Rascal Flatts before I graduate (I did actually see them, can't name one song they have out now though)
5-Dye my hair black (I dyed it dark brown and hated my life for a year)
6-Go out with ****** (HAHAHA...never happened...)
7-Be in a musical (nope)
8-Get a car (realistic)
7-Go to prom with my boyfriend (what boyfriend?! what was I thinking?!)
9-Graduate (well..no shit 14-year old self)
10-Go to Hawaii the summer before college (With what money?)
11-Go to Purdue (my hopes were high....)
12-Intern in Chicago for a summer-age 19 (Once again, high hopes and suddenly my 14 year old self decided to add age restrictions...she had very high standards for me)
13-Study Abroad in Italy, Paris, or Spain-age 20 (All of which would be challenging since I know none of those languages, apparently I was to learn them though)
14-Meet the love of my life--future husband-roughly age 20-21 (me learning 3 different languages would have been more likely than this one)
15-Go to Las Vegas for my 21st birthday!! age 21 (yes...age 21, I'm lucky if I can go to Put-In-Bay for my 21st now)
16- Graduate with honors age 21 (we'll see about that)
17- Work in New York, Boston, or Chicago age 21-23 (only two years, then I can come back to this hell hole apparently)
18- Marry boyfriend age 23 (the image of me getting engaged within the next 2 years literally makes me want to shit my pants right now, my clock is obviously ticking)
19- Get steady job age 23 (doing what? did I have any clue about my life?)
20- Travel to Europe [with husband] age 24 (that's nice that I wanted to include him in that fun)
21- Have first child age 24 (this frightens me so much, was I serious?)
22- Buy my parents a house age 25 (WOW! Was I planning on becoming a Hollywood movie star or a rapper?)
23- Have second child age 25 (My body will be stretched and torn before I even hit 26!)
24- Take kids to Disney World age 27 (Obviously this was more important in my life plan than picking a career choice)
25- Buy beach house in North Carolina age 28 (yes, many people under the age of 60 have beach homes where I'm from)
26- One more kid...maybe? age 28 (We'll flip a coin for that one)
27- Take kids to Europe when they're teenagers (I didn't add an age on this one because I was and still am terrible at math and couldn't figure out at one age I would be when my children would be teenagers)
28- live life age 28-65 (what does living life consist of?!?! really, Kaitie? this was crucial to the list)
29- Retire at age 65, move to Florida (and finally, one of the more realistic goals on my list)
30- write books during retirement (really?)
31- Have grandkids! (this scared me for many reasons)
I can do anything I set my mind to, I just have to work hard and believe I can!
Well, that's all for now :)
Kaitie"
Obviously I was a weird kid. Reading through this list just made me realize that we really have no freaking clue of anything when we're that young. I don't remember feeling young at 14, I thought I knew everything.
I'm sure 6 years from now I'll look back at my 20 year old self and say WTF were you thinking 20-year old Kaitie?!
Did I seriously want to have kids by age 24? Did I really think I would meet the love of my life in college? Did I honestly believe that I would get to travel and work in all of these places? Who knows?
All I know is that the list is comical and the fact that dying my hair dark and having grandchildren were both their own seperate categories on this list scares me. I suppose we all prioritize things differently as we grow up and we're all constantly still growing up...even after retirement.
I hope you found it enjoyable and that it made you feel better about your own life and say "Whew! Good thing I was never THAT psychotic!"
To my 14 year old self I say, "Oh honey, that's cute. Get a clue."
And if for some strange reason I look through my web history 6 years from now and find this blog, I say to myself then, "I'm surprised you can afford a computer, you homeless weirdo cat lady."
AND FINALLY, to all of you: "You can do anything you set your mind to. You just have to work hard and believe you can!" -Kaitie Nock, 14 years of age.
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
Here I sit wondering what my life has come to and why I feel that it is okay to write on this blog instead of write this paper. My answer is...that I do not know, but I do know that I am a horrible, awful person and should feel like a huge fat idiot for not even attempting to write an introduction paragraph before logging onto blogspot.
Anyways.
The other day I was at home cleaning out my bookshelf. Deep within the confines of said bookshelf I found some pretty frightening things, like yearbooks from 5th grade that I wish I could burn for fear that people will see my man haircut and awkward chub. I also found a cell phone from like 1985 (it didn't even have A CAMERA!!! shock ensues..) some books from when I was probably 2 years old. Goodnight Moon, anyone?
But my most important find was my journal from freshman year of high school where I wrote about literally the stupidest things ever including boys I liked that didn't even know I existed, family problems that I cringe at now (but really Mom, couldn't you have picked me up at 11 instead of 10:30...what difference does that half hour really make?), songs that I wrote that sounded eerily like Kelly Clarkson's Miss. Independent, some pictures that I thought were good at the time (I had a strange obsession with eyes and eyebrows...which are just frightening) just really a lot of embarassing shit that I don't ever want anybody to see. Like I really need to burn this stuff in case I ever die in a freak accident like those people in Final Destination because I don't want my parents going through my stuff and finding this ridiculously disturbing journal with badly ryhmned songs and a bunch of sketches on human eyeballs.
My journal seemed to be going pretty well for about three months and then I just sort of forgot about it, which is so typical for journals or diaries if you think about it. Really, anyone who has kept a diary and/or journal for more than a year and ACTUALLY writes in it daily or every other day or something, I commend you.
One of my last entires was something that terrified me as I sat there reading it in my room at 2 am this past weekend, I died laughing and also died of embrassment for my 14-year old self.
This is what it says:
"Dear Diary,
Today I was thinking that I really need to make a life plan. I feel so pressured to have a plan. I want to go to college DUH. So I'm going to make a list of things I want to do:
1-Pass my OGTs next year (woo! go me, I did pass, much like the other 98% of my grade..)
2-Get my license (barely made that one...road rage)
3-Find a date to homecoming next year and not be so lame!!! (ha...that never happened, I will forever be lame)
4-See Rascal Flatts before I graduate (I did actually see them, can't name one song they have out now though)
5-Dye my hair black (I dyed it dark brown and hated my life for a year)
6-Go out with ****** (HAHAHA...never happened...)
7-Be in a musical (nope)
8-Get a car (realistic)
7-Go to prom with my boyfriend (what boyfriend?! what was I thinking?!)
9-Graduate (well..no shit 14-year old self)
10-Go to Hawaii the summer before college (With what money?)
11-Go to Purdue (my hopes were high....)
12-Intern in Chicago for a summer-age 19 (Once again, high hopes and suddenly my 14 year old self decided to add age restrictions...she had very high standards for me)
13-Study Abroad in Italy, Paris, or Spain-age 20 (All of which would be challenging since I know none of those languages, apparently I was to learn them though)
14-Meet the love of my life--future husband-roughly age 20-21 (me learning 3 different languages would have been more likely than this one)
15-Go to Las Vegas for my 21st birthday!! age 21 (yes...age 21, I'm lucky if I can go to Put-In-Bay for my 21st now)
16- Graduate with honors age 21 (we'll see about that)
17- Work in New York, Boston, or Chicago age 21-23 (only two years, then I can come back to this hell hole apparently)
18- Marry boyfriend age 23 (the image of me getting engaged within the next 2 years literally makes me want to shit my pants right now, my clock is obviously ticking)
19- Get steady job age 23 (doing what? did I have any clue about my life?)
20- Travel to Europe [with husband] age 24 (that's nice that I wanted to include him in that fun)
21- Have first child age 24 (this frightens me so much, was I serious?)
22- Buy my parents a house age 25 (WOW! Was I planning on becoming a Hollywood movie star or a rapper?)
23- Have second child age 25 (My body will be stretched and torn before I even hit 26!)
24- Take kids to Disney World age 27 (Obviously this was more important in my life plan than picking a career choice)
25- Buy beach house in North Carolina age 28 (yes, many people under the age of 60 have beach homes where I'm from)
26- One more kid...maybe? age 28 (We'll flip a coin for that one)
27- Take kids to Europe when they're teenagers (I didn't add an age on this one because I was and still am terrible at math and couldn't figure out at one age I would be when my children would be teenagers)
28- live life age 28-65 (what does living life consist of?!?! really, Kaitie? this was crucial to the list)
29- Retire at age 65, move to Florida (and finally, one of the more realistic goals on my list)
30- write books during retirement (really?)
31- Have grandkids! (this scared me for many reasons)
I can do anything I set my mind to, I just have to work hard and believe I can!
Well, that's all for now :)
Kaitie"
Obviously I was a weird kid. Reading through this list just made me realize that we really have no freaking clue of anything when we're that young. I don't remember feeling young at 14, I thought I knew everything.
I'm sure 6 years from now I'll look back at my 20 year old self and say WTF were you thinking 20-year old Kaitie?!
Did I seriously want to have kids by age 24? Did I really think I would meet the love of my life in college? Did I honestly believe that I would get to travel and work in all of these places? Who knows?
All I know is that the list is comical and the fact that dying my hair dark and having grandchildren were both their own seperate categories on this list scares me. I suppose we all prioritize things differently as we grow up and we're all constantly still growing up...even after retirement.
I hope you found it enjoyable and that it made you feel better about your own life and say "Whew! Good thing I was never THAT psychotic!"
To my 14 year old self I say, "Oh honey, that's cute. Get a clue."
And if for some strange reason I look through my web history 6 years from now and find this blog, I say to myself then, "I'm surprised you can afford a computer, you homeless weirdo cat lady."
AND FINALLY, to all of you: "You can do anything you set your mind to. You just have to work hard and believe you can!" -Kaitie Nock, 14 years of age.
Until next time,
Kaitie xo
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