Shoot Me Now

Them Italians Know Us Americans Good!

Katherine — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 01:42:29 +0000

This weekend my mother and I took my daughter shopping for a First Communion dress. Because we never EVER go shopping, my mother suggested we start with a special lunch, her treat.

I rattled off a few local restaurants, throwing out Olive Garden in the mix. To my surprise, my daughter piped in that Olive Garden sounded like a great place to try.

Now, I’m not one to frequent chain restaurants. If given the choice, my happy self will be planted in a seat at Pho ’79 or eating a plate of Kyushu sushi. Mmmmm-nom-nom-nom. SOO-SHEEEE!

It was quite the adventure, this Olive Garden restaurant trip. For starters, the chairs have wheels. Oh SWEET! Rolling rolling rolling! My daughter finally made me stop.

As we waited for our menus, the excitement continued. Just a few tables away, I saw a waiter lift a tray that must have contained at least 60 glasses, all stacked on top of each other.

Count… one, two… KU-RASH! If ONLY I had my Flip running – it was true America’s Home Video fodder. Within seconds the 60 glasses became a pool of broken shards spread across the carpeted floor. Good guess but no, it wasn’t me carrying the tray. I WISH!

Finally, the menus arrived. What to pick…. Cheese, sauce, more cheese… and S-A-U-C-E. Some examples?

Artichoke and Spinach Dip? 1,099 calories and 94 grams of fat.
Stuffed Chicken Marsala with Garlic Mashed Potatoes? 1,215 calories and 86 grams of fat.
One breadstick? 280 calories.
And finally, the Olive Garden Tour of Italy? You are looking at 3,830 magnificent milligrams of sodium, 1,450 calories and 33 fat grams. DEE-LISH.

How was lunch? It was actually pretty darn good. But the waiter NEVER should have left the parmesan grinder on the table. Hmmm, needs a bit more parmesan. Grind Grind (hee hee, fun!) Grind… Nom Nom Nom… Oh needs more. Grind Grind…. Elizabeth, you want to play with the cheese grinder? Sure! I could use a bit more… Cheesy Grindy Fun Goodness.

And of course – BATHROOM. NOW.

To my great amazement and surprise, I see they planned well when designing the bathroom. For there, right next to the diaper changer was a Sharps container. Now you can eat your Tour of Italy with confidence. For just a few steps away is a diabetic’s paradise. A sharps container for your blood-sugar-loving-convenience. Excellent. Welcome to America.

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She Played The Card. And I Caved.

Katherine — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 04:06:59 +0000

Sunday. A day of rest. But normally, not for me. Sunday is the day I panic, realizing Saturday went by way to fast and gosh, the house is a mess. The paperwork isn’t done. The van is still a toxic waste dump!

I assumed this Sunday would be the same. Until my nine year old daughter nudged me in bed and said, “Mom! Mom! I have a great idea!” Then, her voice got a bit hushed as she whispered, “We never get alone time. Just you and me. Can we go to the zoo today? Alone?”

In my mind, I pictured the dirty house, the dirty van, the stacks of bills – all crashing down around me. For my daughter had played THE CARD. The “we never get time alone” card.

Two hours later, we were on the train in the Virginia Zoo. Smiling. And happy.

For a good part of the afternoon we walked, talked, took pictures and laughed. The sun was shining, causing the all the animals to come out and get warm. And look cute. VERY CUTE.

Please forgive me for this. I’m sorry. So so sorry. But the cuteness was just too cute. I’ve got to post the cuteness. The rainbow pony butterfly cotton candy cuteness. It was all just so darned CUTE.

Have you had enough cute? Yes? Well I’m sorry, I have a bit more. For today, I saw Goat Cuteness. And I had to share with the amazing blog Nanny Goats in Panties. These goats are pantyless. But cute. Oh so cute.

My house is still a mess. My bills are not yet paid. And my van? Well, you know. But today, I made memories with my nine year old daughter. Who won’t be nine forever. And I thank God for the opportunity we had to laugh, share and play. And see cuteness.

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When You Have A Post That You Really Should Not Write….

Katherine — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 14:52:04 +0000

OK, when you have a post that you really shouldn’t write – a post that involves very personal information, a description of your body parts and a young handsome black man doctor who turns out to be much better looking than he is smart – a post that would definitely keep readers interested, especially when you mention a body part name over and over – but again, you know you should not write it because there is that LINE between good blogging material and a very personal life – what do you do? You take the the easy way out and post your favorite Japanese potty training video.

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It’s Almost Frightening

Katherine — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 19:54:13 +0000

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Mom Distributes Drugs While Delivering Girl Scout Cookies

Katherine — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 01:25:02 +0000

All I can say is WOW. A mother distributes drugs while delivering her daughter’s Girl Scout cookies? They need to put this woman in jail.

I mean, of all things sacred – it is the GIRL SCOUTS for heaven’s sake. And Girl Scout cookies are iconic. This is worse than the Girl Scout Cookie Flipping Incident. Cookies and Drugs? Incarcerate this mom and throw away the key, I say.

Ummm. OK. So I didn’t realize my prescription bottle had fallen into the bag. And the fact that I was handing the bag of Girl Scout cookies and drugs to the security guard of the hospital? That I work at? Minor technicality.

In my defense, it was Nexium. Call it a relief aid just in case the lemon cookies were from the recalled Lemon Chalet boxes. Community service at its best.

Which one of you will send a nail file to break me out of jail? Just don’t send it in a cake – it’s lent. And please, NOT IN THE COOKIES.

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Jinkies! Those Are Cool Glasses, Velma!

Katherine — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 15:02:05 +0000

My nine year old daughter had a physical a few weeks ago in preparation for her dental surgery. Surprisingly, the pediatrician felt I should get her eyes checked, as one of them was registering at 20/40.

You know how Charlie Brown’s teacher sounds when she talks? That is pretty much what my daughter heard, except for the following exception. “Mwa mwaaa mwa mwaaaa GLASSES mwaa mwaa mwa.”

“I get to wear glasses! Mom, can we go get them now! Why do we have to wait! What color will I wear? Mom can we go see the eye doctor? Did you make an appointment yet with the eye doctor? I picked out a pair of glasses at Price Club today when I was with Grandma! I think I might have to wear them in gymnastics. Mom I can’t wait to wear glasses!”

So Saturday was the day. Eleven p.m. sharp. The eye doctor. We were there 30 minutes early.

The findings? My daughter does NOT need glasses. Joyous news. Until I looked across the room at that little girl who apparently just received the blow of her lifetime. Her bottom lip was quivering. Her eyes were nearly brimming with tears. But she held it in and stared straight ahead.

Fortunately, the Ophthalmologist knows little girls very well and saved me. Big time. “Oh, but there is a cute little store called Claire’s in the mall that carries fake glasses for kids who just want to look cool.”

So off we went.

My daughter has not taken the fake glasses off since. And last night, I even found her in the kitchen, whipping up a bunch of Scooby Snacks. OK, don’t tell her I said that. Please.

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Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

Katherine — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 20:54:57 +0000

Day three with a sinus infection. The last two days have resulted in a permanent butt mark in my couch. And missed workouts. And tons of snot. Oh, are you still here? I haven’t scared you off with images of my butt and boogers? EXCELLENT.

The highlight of my sickness? My sweet, innocent and not quite politically correct daughter. Sitting on the couch next to me, enjoying a bit of Mom’s sick television. I was quietly typing away, writing about my as seen on TV Touch N Brush, when Elizabeth made a joyous discovery and exclamation.

Me: Type type type.

Elizabeth, grinning happily: “MOM! I just realized! You have a double chin!”

Me, frozen in mid-type: Sigh.

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I Touched It

Katherine — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 20:39:25 +0000

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My Brain Is A Scary Thing – But What DID That Dog Eat?

Katherine — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 02:52:34 +0000

Self talk. We all do it. Think about it – no pun intended. Our minds are constantly chattering. Picture yourself driving alone or trying to fall asleep. Your brain is always noting things, thinking about things, questioning things – you are constantly talking to yourself.

Wait. I am assuming an awful lot. Maybe it’s just me. Probably. Yup, most likely. OK, so I will rephrase that. I hear my brain chatter all the time. You know, just making note of things. “Oh, that is so pretty.” “I’m really tired.” “If I repainted the living room, what color would I use?”

Driving home today, I began to think about, well, things I had thought about this weekend. And then I imagined saying these things out loud to a stranger who might not know the context in which they were thought. Surely I would be locked up.

So here are a few things that ran through my mind this weekend.

Apollo is sexy, but what’s with that ear?
Whoa, there are little creatures swimming in there.
Do lesbian couples HAVE to have a “who is the man and who is the woman” thing, or is that just something from TV?
They have a row of TIKI GUYS on their lawn!
Its 4:00 and I haven’t eaten anything today. Chalk one up for gastroparesis.
Holy CRAP, this is a FREAKING MASION!
Why do I have to struggle so much to simply buy groceries. I’m smart and I know how to make websites, so there has GOT to be a way to keep me from barely keeping my head above water.
Stupid Google.
That’s what she said.
I smell poop.
I want that cupcake SO BAD but it is Lent. I can’t eat the cupcake I can’t eat the cupcake I can’t eat the cupcake.
Why can’t anyone flush the toilet around here?
If I was gay I would so flirt with her.
I am eating a tarantula.
I have a strange change in my breast and they can’t get me in until March?!
I want to make more money so I can secretly give to other people.
He didn’t come home last night. YES!
That house has been empty for over a year.
I would do Johnny Depp even if he was dressed as the Mad Hatter.
I haven’t been on a curly slide in YEARS!
What did the dog eat that was red?

Seriously. Are these things so important that my brain had to form an internal sentence about them? If I had Tourette’s Syndrome I’d be in trouble.

I would LOVE for you to take a minute to think about what has run across YOUR mind in the last few days. How bizarre, mundane or freakish has YOUR brain chatter been? Extra points for honesty!

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Invisilifts: A Woman’s Only Hope For Perkiness

Katherine — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 14:40:35 +0000

Ladies, come close and listen up. I’ve found the product of my dreams. The answer to my prayers. The lift to my drop. For I have seen the Invisilifts Commercial .

Imagine me at 2 in the morning, breasts happily sitting on my lap. And then the Invisilifts infomercial comes on. Images of saggy women whose chests magically lift to their chins start flashing before my eyes. They can GO that high? Who knew that once you have a perfect lift, your stomach and back will lose all signs of bulges. A bonus!

And guess what else? They come with PASTIES. Little mini pads that stick smack dab in the middle of your new, happy real estate. Smooth doesn’t even begin to describe your new cantaloupe look.

My mind began racing. Simply peel off the backing, stick ‘em on your melons and then BLOOP – up they go! (I can only imagine the sound would be BLOOP.)

But let’s not stop there. Let’s go all the way, shall we? My butt cheeks are screaming for Invisilifts. Peel, slap on, BLOOP! BLOOP! (That’s one for each cheek.)

OK, so I am perky in front and perky in back. How about my belly? Maybe I need to connect a few of those suckers and stick them above the bikini line. BLOOOOOOP!

Slowly, I am becoming unable to breath. Yet I can’t stop. Two to the side of the face. Peel. Stick. Bloop Bloop. Ish hard tawk wike dis.

The final result? I am tight. I am lifted. I am… I am… in pain! Oh PLEASE tell me they sell Invisilifts removal cream. PLEASE. Breathe and rip. Breathe Breathe BREATHE! Ignore the blood. The skin will regenerate, won’t it?

But I might keep the pasties on. I just can’t resist a pretty little flower.

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