Wednesday, June 30, 2010

what she said

I want to issue an emphatic "ditto" to pretty much everything Julia says in this post and encourage you all to set your settings accordingly so I can email back responses to your comments. Because I want to respond to y'all but I can only do so to a limited number of people. :( (Seriously. Go click it. Please. On behalf of not just myself but other bloggers as well.) (I'll give you a cookie?)

Also, holy busy workday, Batman... I ended up at the office for some 12+ hours which isn't the longest I've worked, by any stretch, but it's a long day and kind of funny because I was so exhausted this morning I didn't even want to get out of bed. Funny how that happens.

Anyway. More later. I'm working on some logistics for a giveaway, so get yo'self excited.

Guys, I didn't even have to Photoshop this one.

Monday, June 28, 2010

sunshine on my shoulders makes me sunburnt happy

Guys, I have GOT to start writing acceptance speeches... seems like people out there actually like me or something.

The lovely ladies at DC Dating Divas have bestowed upon me....

a Major Award.

No, just kidding. It's this one:

That's my second sunshine-themed award... must be because of my gloriously sunny disposition. (Please, hold back your laughter).

Anyway. I'm going to pass this on.... to you. That's right, YOU. If you read this blog and have ever left me a comment, then you've definitely brought me some sunshine, so you deserve it. If you'll excuse my cheesiness.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

it's a bird! it's a plane! it's... a new blog design!

If any of you actually visit my blog instead of reading it in a reader you may have noticed something different afoot in terms of aesthetics. If you are reading it in a reader, this might be a time when you want to click over to actually come see it.


It's actually been like this since Thursday. I just hadn't bothered to mention it until now.

So, my blog design before wasn't anything super special or anything. I basically grabbed a Template that I didn't hate, figured out how to manipulate the elements of it to make it be the color I wanted, and went from there. Really, though? I like how it's laid out, but the blue circles and dots weren't really doing a heck of a lot for me, and I've been wanting a cleaner, simpler design.

NOW. I'm not a web designer. When I was a designer, it was for print applications. I could maybe visually lay out what I would want this here piece of real estate to look like, but then I'd have to jam my square pegs into round holes and fake it til I got something resembling what I wanted it to look like. And that's a lot of work.

And I'm too poor to pay someone else to do it, and as a (former) designer, I would be the most pain in the ass client to work with.

Anyway, I logged into Blogger the other morning, and lo! Design your own template! Well, hey. I can click buttons and make something interesting.

And I was super close to just flipping it over to something else and then part of my brain, the part that is terrified of commitment, screamed NOOOOO and I closed out of the tab. Then I got home, saved my original template, and decided to play around again.

What's great is that Blogger's new "design" function lets anal-retentive peeps such as myself have a lot more control over the template than before. I am a bit bummed that there was no option of being able to load your own background photo, maybe that's coming, or maybe I'm just not smart enough to have figured that out yet. (help?).

Anyway. It's new and improved and more pink.

I may or may not have selected a background that complemented my profile picture.


And, you know. Not wanting to mess with finding a new picture. Whatever.

Anyway. You don't need to shower it with praise since, well, I didn't design it or anything. But I do want you to at least look at it because I spent a good forty five minutes trying out Every Single Background Image available to me until I ended up back at the default one (c'est la vie). And I made lots of tweaks and adjustments. Whatever, it's pretty now.

Also, I think it looks more like a real blog. Not that it didn't before. But, more so. now.

uhhh I don't know. I probably just wasted a good ten minutes of your time. SORRY BYE.

*runs away*

Saturday, June 26, 2010


I went to go create a new post and there it was, shining back at me, a simple stat: "300 posts." So, yay, I guess? I've had this particular blog for not quite 2 years, and already I've managed to fill it with 300 posts. I suppose I should do something to commemorate this rather than wasting space... I'll have to think on it. Maybe I'll pretend I'm a real blogger and do a giveaway or something. This involves logistics that I hadn't planned for so we'll see. I dunno. Must contemplate further.

Anyway, for those of you, both that I know in real life and those I only know through this glorious set of pixels and words called the Internet, thanks for reading. I love you all and I love your comments even though I don't always respond, mostly 'cause I like to just hit "reply" but if I don't have your email addy, that makes it tricky. Fix that, would ya? ;)

Anyway Anyway. I'm off to the homestead again for more packing-my-youth-in-boxes and a family reunion and I will probably end up on my dad's deck swing with a book and a wine cooler (I think he's on to my burgeoning alcoholism)* and no shoes. Because it's a Saturday and I can.

later, tators.

*I'm kidding. I rarely drink anymore. I'm seriously turning into an old lady. I do enjoy that he keeps girly booze around though, pretty exclusively for me and my sister. He's a BV-and-Pepsi sort of dude.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

maybe someday.

I was working at my second job today with one of my coworkers and while we were folding and tagging sweatshirts, she asked me what I would do with myself in my off-time, if money wasn't an issue. I pondered this while attaching the price stickers to the tags, and my initial thought was, if money didn't matter, obviously, I would travel. I would go to places I'd never been - maybe revisit places I had been - and write about it. Take pictures of it. Experience it with a full appreciation for being able to live in the actual moment.

Realistically, though, the answers I gave her, were not unlike my fantasy, albeit without the traveling. I would return to my photography. I would write.

I would see the beauty in my surroundings like I used to... I would capture it in a still frame, I would add it to my "portfolio" of photos that hasn't truly been updated since college or shortly thereafter. I would maybe be more aggressive with showing them, maybe selling them. Making myself feel legit as a photographer. Everybody wants to be a photographer, it seems. I have no grand illusions of making a business out of it; I just want to create. I want to be an artist. I miss being an artist.

I would sit down with a laptop in a coffee shop or a park or even my living room, I would open up a blank document and let my fingers find the words to make sentences while my brain runs on hyperdrive. I would write short stories of fiction, maybe write that memoir (at least the interesting parts), maybe someday tackle that elusive life dream of writing a novel. If I could publish a book someday, I would probably faint out of pure delirious joy.

These thoughts had barely swirled around in my head and I felt stupid, presumptuous even, saying them out loud. Take pictures. Write. Such simple things. The things that I want to do don't even cost money.

She then asked me the most obvious question of all: "then why don't you?"

I stammered a little bit and made some excuse about not having time. I would need a better laptop - this one is too old for me to transport, it only has about a forty-second battery life when not plugged in, plus while its 17 inches are beautiful, they're not exactly mobile-friendly. I want a netbook. It's small and practical. I could throw it in my freaking purse (I have succumbed, guys - I am currently carrying around a large purse-bag. I would switch back to my little purse but I'm not sure where I put it) and have it with me at all times. I could blog and read blogs and write, just write. If I ever put any time or energy forth into the whole Pampered Chef endeavor, I could probably even write it off as a business expense because I could take it to shows and use it for entering people's orders on the spot, which greatly cuts down on the odds of me screwing up someone's sales tax (which always, always happens. I don't know why I'm so bad at this.) Even if I don't buy a fancy new computer... Nothing's really stopping me from writing. I don't have a fancy camera, but I never have - I've taken some of my best pictures on my shittiest cameras. They are only tools; they are vessels from getting things out of my mind and into a tangible, visible form.

Why don't I?

Because I'm exhausted and tired and devoid of my free time and possibly I'm scared that I just wouldn't be good enough, and frankly, it is scary. I've built these up to be the closest thing to "dreams" that I have these days (what other kind of dreams are you left with, once the reality of, well, reality, has stripped you of all your silly childhood fantasies of what you thought you could or would be?) and if I can't do them well, then I am left with nothing. I am left without validation or hope for being what I wanted, and am faced with being what I am.

So I pose this question to you, my friends. What would you do, if time or money wasn't an issue? And if time or money isn't an issue - why aren't you doing it?

What would you be, if you could be anything you wanted?

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

I've decided.

July 1. We make a change. And by we, I mean me. Something's gotta happen here - diet, exercise plan, something. It's a completely arbitrary date - but it's just far enough away to get all my binge-eating out of my system and just close enough to keep me focused.

I just thought I would issue this decree so that if in three weeks you hear me talking about how I ate six pieces of cake for breakfast* you can go ahead and punch me in the face.

*this has not actually ever happened. I don't even think I would want it to.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

And Then There Was Tuesday.

So, it was really hot today.

By the time I stumbled into my entryway tonight to the sweet, sweet blast of air conditioning, I was pretty much a trainwreck. The first thing I did was grab a pair of sweatpants... because it is way too fucking hot to wear jeans because they were clinging to me like saran wrap. My hair has succumbed to the humidity and even though I gave up and put it in a ponytail around lunchtime, wisps of frizz have sprung forth like... I don't know, something that springs forth. It's too hot to think of good metaphors, mmmkay?

But this is not what I would like to discuss with you.

I was all set to beeline it home and minimize the time spent between one air-conditioned structure to the next, but then... calling me... like a siren song...

The Semi-Annual Sale.

This was, inevitably, a mistake. While I did need to replace the bra that now has a good quarter-to-half inch of underwire poking through the fabric, I am really, really bad at passing up sales. And, bras! They are a necessity. I felt my bank account weep as I swiped my trusty debit card through their machine, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And, okay, the damage wasn't terrible - or not as bad as it could have been - but it still made me wince. It's not going to break me or anything. I had already checked my accounts that morning and paid some bills and had enough to keep me in the black 'til Friday. I mean, I didn't do the math or anything, but here's hoping.

Before you lecture me on being fiscally irresponsible... let me explain. When you're as, ahem, "gifted" as myself... it's hard finding quality support. And quite frankly, $16.99 is a very decent price for something I'm going to wear repeatedly. Except when you multiply that by three and then toss in a pair of panties and oh hey maybe a new lipgloss... I'm going to be eating Ramen for the next three weeks.

But I'll be in the black.

However. What concerns me, today, now... if my ladies get any bigger, I'm not even going to be able to SHOP at Victoria's Secret anymore. I've pretty much maxed out their size spectrum. I... don't even know where to go from here. It's uncharted and probably bad-news territory. I shudder to think of it.

This is the part of my post where I run out of things to say and post a picture. Except, given the topic at hand, I am not going to take a picture, because, well, that's a path I don't want to go down. Which is really too bad, since right now my whole shoulder-neck-collarbone-breast area is probably my most attractive area. I look like a ragged hot mess from the neck up and like the marshmallow dude from Ghostbusters from the ta-tas down.

It's not pretty.

So, like. If I chopped my arms and hair off and hid everything from the stomach down... we'd be golden.

Kind of like this.

the Kelly de Milo

I'm really sorry.

Except, you know, it's fucking hotter than fuck outside, so, you know. Not really. This is probably the best you were going to get.

Also, I have no idea what this post was supposed to be about. The end.

Monday, June 21, 2010

With All This Talk of Athletic Activity Lately, You'd Think I Would Lose Some Weight

Hey, kids. Happy Monday to everyone. HAHAHA I know, right?

Anyway I'm sitting here basking in all my sweaty glory because my legs currently do not have the strength to support me long enough to take a shower. At least that was my reasoning about a half hour ago. They might be fine now.

I had belt testing today. Which is probably not that momentous in and of itself, except that next time I test it will be for my black belt. (You may applaud here.) It was kind of a stressball for me though because, as we may have noticed, I've been a bit preoccupied with softball and have missed roughly a bitch-ton of class over the last two months. Last Thursday was possibly the first one I'd made it to in weeks.

The thing that saved my ass was that I had done this particular form before. It had been awhile, but fragments of the sequence were still clinging to the walls of my brain. Seriously though I could hardly remember it at all. Saturday morning it kind of clicked, and I fell asleep last night running through it in my brain. (That is how I've saved my ass over many a belt testing cycle. I don't have room in my apartment to actually practice... so I just do it in my head. Surprisingly, this works.)

Going in to the classroom/studio*/workout space/whatever the hell you call it, I was to the point where I was so nervous that I wasn't nervous anymore.

*what? it has a wall of mirrors.

I stretched a bit and then literally just sat there on the floor with my eyes closed mentally going over the steps and the moves. Slowly, methodically.

I couldn't watch anyone else who was doing the same form I was, because it screwed with my mindset.

If nothing else, I had incredible focus. That was what was going to get me through.

Watching a lot of the other people do their forms, I've noticed that a lot of them just power through theirs. Which is, well. It's okay. In my opinion, it looks sloppy. I probably did the same thing, once, maybe. But my dad had told me once to make a point to emphasize, enunciate, whatever - make clear, sharp, determined, deliberate, definitive moves. It's not a race.

I may have been (theoretically) two months behind and way out of practice, but I was going to have something most of the other people didn't have.


It's amazing how much better one can do when you slow down, focus, breathe. I had a couple small missteps, probably. I wobbled a bit on one double-kick because my balance has gotten shoddy. I think I missed one of the yells but in retrospect I can't remember so maybe I didn't. (I probably did). But from what I recall, it was clean, precise, and powerful.

And that, my friends, is how you get it done.

Seriously though I was so nervous I thought I was going to fall over. I was heading off the floor to grab my sparring gear and I realized how jello-ey my legs felt. I was being so focused with my moves and in the process of keeping myself steady, I was relying a lot on my leg strength. Apparently.

Anyway I did my sparring and my board breaks and it was humid as hell and usually I can blow through testing without breaking much of a sweat but I was drowning afterwards and I am going to attribute it to not only this god-awful Iowa humidity but also the fact that I was working my ass off, if not obviously. It's actually harder to slow it down and make it count.

The very very best part was, though, afterwards, some lady I don't know, probably a parent of one of the kids, came up to me and put her hand on my shoulder and said, quote, "You had the best form." Not, like, "you're the best!" but the way you'd be all "that baby has the cutest smile" or "these are the awesomest cookies" or whatever. Like, it was a fact, not a comparison. I don't even know how to write it out in the tone she said it. (maybe it was technically a comparison. The word "best" implies such.) Like - it was a compliment to me, but not necessarily an insinuation that everyone else's was crap. Emphasis on the word best but not full on italics. The writer in me is stabbing the currently-functioning-me for not being able to express it clearly. Whatever.

I don't know. It made me feel great, though. Especially since I'd had so much time off and I've been obsessing about how inferior I've felt lately. I'm pretty confident I passed, but even if I didn't, that lady totally made my night.

I did good. Yay!

Friday, June 18, 2010


I randomly left a comment on my cousin's blog because I'm a blog comment enthusiast. No biggie. Then I was all, waiiiiiiiiit, frick.

Because that is so totally going to link back to my blog, and you know what? I don't really particularly care to have my family reading my blog.

I don't care if she reads it, I guess, whatever. If she doesn't know what a headcase I am by now, then that's her own damn fault. ;) Howeverrrrrrr I do not want anyone else poking around here. Tis not exactly a family-friendly blog, what with my expletive-laced rants and just general non-PC-ness. I have a pretty PC family. Just sayin'.

That's going to be a hell of a lot of awkward all up in here if it gets traced back. Kinda sorta why I don't have it linked on facebook anymore. You know? I thought so. I'd much rather have complete strangers read about my personal life than people that knew me when I looked like this:

Yeah, that is a look of pure unadulterated shock on Baby Kelly's face from the raging inappropriateness that goes down all up in here.


Me no want to censor myself! Noes!!!!!!!!!

J, don't tell anyone about this blog. I know you're here. Shhhh. thanksloveyoubye.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Look Ma, No Testosterone!

For whatever reason, I got it in my head on Monday night that this was going to be the night I got a new bookshelf, and so I went to Target and managed to relocate a really heavy box containing the necessary materials for a 5-shelf bookcase from their shelf into my cart. BY MYSELF. I then transferred it from the cart to my backseat. BY MYSELF. I then carried it (slowly) from my car, up the stairs, to my apartment. BY MYSELF. I then proceeded to build the damn thing, which turned out to be taller than me. And I finally got to use my pink Black & Decker cordless screwdriver that I got for Christmas. Power tools, yay. Anyway. I did all this BY MYSELF. I am woman, hear me roar, etc.

I win.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

feel free to glaze over, but there's a picture at the end. because i love you.

I'll (try to) keep this short and sweet, since I know y'all are sick of listening to me prattle on about softball. It still amazes me how much I have to say about it, because I feel like that's all I ever talk about, but I'm like the freaking Energizer Bunny of softball talking.

Anyway. Of the 25 years of my existence, I think it's safe to say I've played softball for probably about 18 of those years, in some form or another. I think they start you off around age 5 (?), with Tee-Ball, and I played every summer up until college. Then I had two years off and then I started coaching five years ago. Last year I started playing again, albeit slowpitch instead of fastpitch (which I miss, but, hey. Old people gotta play what they can play, I guess... and, actually, I think coaching has actually made me a better player, too. I'm kicking some ass out on the field this year. It feels great.) It was a very short break in the continuum. Softball has always been a huge part of my summers. I was never a prodigy athlete or anything, but I was pretty good. If things continue, I'll probably end up racking up more medals coaching than playing. Even though I wasn't a standout player, I like to think I'm a pretty good coach. I'm not a bitch, like most of my coaches always were, and I don't play favorites, like ALL my coaches did. And it's fun. I have fun. I hope the girls have fun too. 'Course, it's always fun when you're winning, like we did this season. The only two games we lost were at the beginning and that's probably cause we didn't have enough girls to field a full team that day. I actually think they were technically forfeits, but whatever.

Solid season, it was great, we were the top team in the league, and we had some really competitive tournament games*, and we pulled through and we won. I got my gold medal.

(Except I didn't technically get one, because they were on partial backorder, so there were only enough for the girls, so whatever.)

(Which is fine. I didn't get a medal two years ago either when we took 1st in the tourney, because there weren't enough. Which was cool. Until last year when I DID end up with a medal for 3rd. And then I decided I felt gypped because I wanted my gold hardware too, dammit. If I'm going to have some of it, I want to have ALL of it.)

*(I seriously thought we were going to lose on Monday. It was a super close game and I was extremely nervous and we were behind the entire game until the very end. I think I would have taken it worse than the girls. For starters, we would have lost to the lowest-ranked team in the league, which, well. Is kind of depressing. Cool for them, suck for us. For seconds, it would have CRUSHED my DREAMS of winning the tournament, which I KNEW we had a really great shot at. I would have been more okay losing and taking 2nd in the championship game, than losing in the first round and not even having a shot at it. I don't know. We pulled it off though. Much to my everlasting relief and our out-of-nowhere improved hitting and spectacular base-running and my super aggressive and riskier-than-regular-season base coaching. I actually felt like I did actually maybe directly help them get their victory, so that was a cool feeling, as a coach. I pushed them because I knew they could do it, and they did. Awesomeness.)

Anyway. I'd post a picture of our team from after our championship win because they're fricking adorable, but there's something weird about posting pictures on the Internet of kids that aren't yours.

So here's a crop of the photo of me looking coachly.

I drew on a gold medal as a visual aid, so you can see what it should have looked like. ish. You're welcome.

We are the champions, my friend.*

*Seriously, does anyone else STILL think of the Mighty Ducks when they hear that song? It's a curse from growing up in the '90s, I swear.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding... Recap.

Hello, my bloglings. Dry your eyes, I have returned!

(What? I was gone? Shut up.)

So, for lack of a better lead-in, Wedding Season has officially begun, starting with the marriage of one of my best friends from college. She was probably one of the last ones we thought would get married, mostly because she bristles at traditional societal norms, hates being referred to in the context of Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So ("I'm a person, dammit!") (which I don't blame her for - why do they do that? Once you get married, you lose the right to having a first name?), and is a very liberal, free-spirited individual. But, she met this dude and something was different, and the rest, so they say, is history. She's still got her purplish-red hair from time to time, but soon she'll be a teacher with a husband and a house and a dog and a cat. But she's still herself... She edited the vows to remove the phrase "obey", cut out the part where her father/step-father (she walked down the aisle with both) "gave her away" and all in all did it her way.

Also, it was amazing. It was one of the most fun weddings I've been to, perhaps because it wasn't so formal. I've been to a lot of weddings. I've only been in three, and they've each been a great experience (though I will forever bitch about the one that cost me nearly $700 to be in, I'm sure I've mentioned it), but something about this one? Felt more... I don't know. I felt more comfortable.

The dress was something I was comfortable in, even if I had to find a strapless bra that I could pin in the back to hide, due to the low v-cut on both sides (in case you're unfamiliar with the problem, strapless bras are pretty useless if you're gifted with a big set of ta-tas, but it's better than nothing). And it was cheap. And it was my favorite shade of blue. The bride made sashes of the accent color and it added quite a bit of oomph. And, not to be cliche, but this dress? Totally something I could probably wear again. (I've worn the silver flats we got every day so far since then. YAY FOR TARGET.) Also? Unlike at my sister's wedding where I was the Fat Bridesmaid (seriously, they were all sticks), all the girls minus one were my size, curvy and voluptuous. The last girl was a thin blonde, and I'm sure she will recover from us making fun of her small boobs. (She was the only one that didn't have dress issues.)

I didn't have to have my hair yanked and pulled into an updo that I would inevitably hate (no matter what I give them to go off, it always disappoints me) - loose waves tied back with pins. Loved it.

The wedding itself was wonderful, it was outside and the rain held off and the humidity even eased off us for a bit (I shall mention here that it was probably 95% humidity on Friday for the rehearsal and it was miserable... and I was in a thin dress. The poor groomsmen were all dying and dreading the next day.) The sky was blue and there was just enough of a breeze and it was perfect.

And. And. My perhaps favorite part. Instead of a limo? We had picnic tables set atop a flatbed with two Adirondack chairs for the newlyweds. We rode that around a bit whilst drinking an inordinate amount of beer and wine coolers. We're talking epic open container violations. We're also talking small town Iowa. (One of the family friends was a state patrol officer, so we probably would have been okay, anyway, but. It wasn't even an issue.)

If you've never ridden on a picnic table on the back of a flatbed, you are missing out on one of life's truly great pleasures.

The reception was fun, I gave my speech without sounding like too much of an idiot (I hope) (I have this THING about pre-rehearsing and pre-writing speeches... I don't do it. I get an idea of what I'm going to say and then I wing it. My sister nearly killed me when it was the night before her wedding and I told her that. Went fine and she had nothing to worry about. Yeesh.) Food was had, adult beverages were had, dancing was done (much to my absolute chagrin, the majority of the Thriller dance had fallen out of my head when it came on. This was very, very upsetting. Very.), and by 11, we were all beat. Also, I'm pretty sure there is a picture floating around somewhere with my dress sash tied around my head like Rambo and striking a ninja pose. I'm a classy bitch.

On the ride back, we naturally were discussing weddings. Apparently I'm the only one who HASN'T started the pre-emptive planning process. I know, I'm a freakshow. I did have to turn around and drive up to my dad's place immediately upon my return home, so I took that opportunity to mentally ponder options for various wedding elements. Once I started making a preliminary guest list, I decided it would be much cheaper to just elope because I know way too fucking many people.

Delusions of pending nuptials aside, it was a fun weekend, and by the time I remember that I started writing this, maybe I'll be done editing my photos and will post a few.

Also, let's focus on my hair, because it looked amazing, and not on the fact that I look like Violet Beauregard after eating a blueberry. Yuck. I do NOT photograph well from the neck down.

Maybe because I've gained a lot of weight from the neck down.

You know what? I'm not even going to give you that many. Only the ones where I look nice. Ha.

Anyhizzle. Pictures. Yay.


With the bride!

Accidental model pose. Isn't my hair fabulous?

Yeah, that happened.

Friday, June 11, 2010

I bet Big Cosmetics is pissed too.

So, this is probably an old thing, but I remembered it or saw an ad for it in a magazine or something and it pissed me off all over again so now I'm going to rant about it.

There is, on the market, as we speak, a prescription drug that will... make your eyelashes grow longer.

That's it. That's all it does.

This is the most absurd thing ever.

I mean, it's one thing if you, like, singed off your lashes in a freak BBQ accident or something, but for the sole purpose of wanting longer lashes? Fuck, that's what mascara is for. It's a hell of a lot cheaper and infinitely less invasive than, you know, A PRESCRIPTION MEDICATION.

Because it has this whole slew of possible side effects that, in my opinion, are so totally not worth longer lashes. I mean, seriously. I guess if you're vain enough to want to take this pill, then you probably deserve whatever goes along with it. Seriously. Go buy a fucking eyelash curler and a tube of mascara like everyone else. They have clear mascara too, if you're worried about clumping or smudging or whatever the hell. That's usually what I use. Ten bucks, tops. Will last you for ages.

And the other thing? The thing that probably actually makes me MORE irritated?

Someone, somewhere, spent time DEVELOPING this. Hours upon hours of research and testing and marketing and bladdy bladdy blah - these are resources that could have been used for something like, oh, I dunno, curing cancer.

Seriously. What the fucking fuck. WHY is this necessary? WHO THOUGHT THIS WAS SOMETHING THAT NEEDED TO EXIST?

/end bitter rant. (Short but sweet, people. I do not have the time or energy to go into detail about why society is as fucked up as it is. Another day. Promise.)

Thursday, June 10, 2010

sometimes i think of titles. sometimes i don't.

I don't know why I posted that cracked out post yesterday. I don't know why I'm apologizing. Except I'm not really apologizing. I don't know. I was trying to clean up my drafts folder and that was one I wrote like last week when I was super spazzy. Whatevs.

So. How's everyone? I feel like I've been a huge downer lately. Again, not apologizing. Just commenting. Because I feel like I've been stuck in this horrible negative place and I don't like it there.

For some reason, it still surprises me when I realize it's summer. I'm STILL having a hard time writing a 6 instead of a 5. It's been June for over a week now. Yeesh.

I guess summers aren't as interesting when you're not in school.

Softball is nearing the end, and I swear this season has gone too fast. I'm actually really, really sad to see this one close. Besides the fact that my girls are kicking ass on the field, they're a great group of girls and a lot of them will be in 8th grade next year and probably playing on the JV team for their high school. They're good enough. One of my girls from the last few years is in 8th grade now, and she's playing on the fucking VARSITY team. As an eighth grader. That's pretty damn impressive. And proably pissing off the actual high schoolers. I know it always pissed me off when 8th graders tried to play up. Hah.

Anyway. Tournaments are next week and I hope they keep up their kickass-ness. I want that first place medal, dammit. My team won 1st a couple years ago and there weren't enough medals for the coaches, which was fine... except last year there were, so all I have is a damn 3rd place medal. Which, you know. Is cool. But not as cool as FIRST PLACE. Right now we're top ranked in our league (okay, okay, there are only four teams this year, but still) so we've got a pretty damn good shot at it. They just need to stay focused.

Anyway anyway it's been a crapton of fun and while every season has been fun, this has been one of my favorite groups. (Then again, I say that almost every year, haha. But I mean it this time.) Last year too. I'm sorry, but it makes me happy and gives me warm fuzzies when they get all excited when I arrive for the day. The chorus of "KELLY!!" is... I don't know. It makes me feel good, you know? And I like being a role model for them. I even manage to not swear around them, ever. I know, right? It's possible. I've only had to check myself a couple times. :) Plus I'm the only girl coach in our league, the rest are a bunch of dads... so I hope that makes me cool and I hope the other teams are all, like, damn, they've got the cool coach. Although they're probably more focused on the fact that we have the best pitcher in the league. ha. (I'd love to try to hit off her. She'd probably strike my ass out. She's GOOD.) (To be fair, I've been playing slowpitch for the last two years, so I'm a bit off my game.)

I'm pretty sure I'm boring the hell out of you. Whatever, I don't care. I'd post our team pic because it's super cute but there's something weird about posting pictures of kids that aren't yours, so. Meh.

Got a few more weeks left of PLAYING softball, too. My team sucks and we haven't won yet but it really doesn't matter because it's FUN. And I'm playing third base which means I get a lot of balls hit to me and I've been fielding well and damn I've missed playing. Plus I look awesome since I can field as well as the guys. My hitting is also the best it's ever been in my life. All-around I feel good out on the field. I'm sure there's some sort of correlation between playing and coaching - doing one makes me better at the other, and vice versa? I don't know. I do know that I've got a whole shitload of softball in my life right now and it makes me happy. (And, no, I'm not a lesbian. You were thinking it, weren't you? Asshole.)

Now, if only I had that same kind of passion for taekwondo. It's suffering right now. I've missed a clot of class beause of games, and while I did the same thing last summer, for some reason I'm not balancing it as well. My motivation is shot to fuck and there's belt testing in like two weeks and I'm probably screwed. I might be able to fake it. We'll see. I'm gonna give it a go, at least.

What else can I bore you with? Hmm.

Wedding season kicks off on Friday with a rehearsal and I'm super excited about the dress I bought (on clearance at Target, BAM!) for that... I should probably try on my bridesmaids dress to make sure it fits, not that I can do much about it if it doesn't, maybe buy some Spanx. (I'm a bit wary of Spanx... apparently you have to pee through a slit in the crotch of them? This just sounds like a recipe for disaster. Anyone have any insight on this?) Fortunately (?) I've been on the "I'm Too Broke To Buy Food" diet this week (no, seriously, last Sunday I literally had a meal consisting entirely of scrambled eggs and Diet Dr Pepper, because that was ALL I HAD IN MY KITCHEN.) so maybe it will fit okay.

I also need to figure out what bra to wear with it... because it's kind of a weird cut. Like, I could probably wear a regular bra because the straps would likely be hidden, but there's a low enough V in the back that you might be able to see the back of the bra? And don't even be all "get one of the adhesive ones!" because I fail to see how those are at all supportive, and, well, my ladies ain't small. I doubt those would hold.

I should just start talking about tampons now just to fully alientate the handful of male readers I have. Good lord.

Anyway. Weddings. Yeah. I'm not going to go there right now. I'm grumpy.

Not at weddings themselves, per se. Just, you know. The general lovey-dovey atmosphere.

Because, okay, I love my independence and all... but I'm kind of getting tired of being single. I need something to do. (Someone to do? Cymbal crash.) I've pretty much convinced myself that I will never ever meet anyone in this town and why the hell am I here because this is the type of town that you settle down in, but then I remind myself that I don't actually KNOW all fifty thousand people in this town, so, you know. There's that. And there's a city nearby. But sometimes it FEELS like I've met everyone there is to meet, you know? Because it seems like all my social circles are kind of incestuous and it's really interesting how they all managed to overlap even though I never would have guessed that to happen, and now I'm left with very little access to the rest of the population. Or so it seems.

What I really need is a database of all the single, straight men in their late twenties, in this town or the next. Totally realistic, right? ugh. Someone get on that for me, will you?

I feel like I need to, like, sign off on these or something rather than just stop talking, so, um... the end?

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

analytics & underwires

So the other day I remembered I have Analytics installed on this blog which really does me no good because I don't really know how to use it, other than I like to see where people come from to visit me. The vast majority of the time it's because I apparently made a witty comment on someone else's blog and someone went "whoa this chick rules" and comes to check out mah space. Just kidding. I don't think this happens at all. But a lot of traffic is from other blogs I read so it must be coming from people clicking on my name when I leave comments. Probably the other blogger themselves going "who the fuck..." I don't really know.

Plus the real reason I installed Analytics is because everyone always has all these awesome search terms that they occasionally share and it's awesome and I don't really have that many although I think I mentioned the one sexual search I got and it was probably a sad, sad day for that Internetter because there's no anal sex on this blog. Actually there's no sex, period. This is an asexual blog.

Anyhizzle, looking at it as of late, apparently the way to drive traffic is to post a video of a hilarious contacts commercial. Apparently a lot of other people thought it was google-able also. Except I just went straight to YouTube, because, well, duh. I know how to use the Internet. But anyway. I did also see one for Scarlett Johansson so I'm betting that judgmental bitch will send some creepers my way. Again, they'll be disappointed. This blog is a pile of disappointment.

There is absolutely no point to this post at all because I am not entirely certain where my brain function is. Ummm.. Let's see... I could tell you about my day... on Monday night I discovered that I was at the end of my deodorant which is super awesome when it's summertime, but I managed to wake up early enough to stop by HyVee ('tis our grocery store, for those of you not privileged enough to be familiar with the Midwest) because Target wasn't open yet and WalMart was a tad too far out of my way, so the crisis was totally averted. Alas, my friends, Tuesday was not meant to be all roses and unicorns, because late in the afternoon, my underwire decided to free itself of its fabric prison and started stabbing me.

This was annoying for multiple reaons:
1. ow
2. this was a mothereffing Victoria's Secret bra and, I'm sorry, those bitches are not cheap and I kind of expected it to last a little bit longer than it did.
3. ow

... so yeah. That totally didn't redeem this post at all.

Later tators.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

whatever. i don't know. more words. etc.

If you'd have asked me... and if I had started writing this post earlier... it probably would have been just as depressing as yesterday's. (Or, erm, Sunday's. Whatever.)

I mean, I'm not convinced that it won't end up there, but I'm feeling much better than I was.

I wrote a lot the other night on my blackberry (I mean, it was a lot, anyway, but, like, magnify it by 100 because it was ON MY BLACKBERRY) and it helped me get a lot of things out of my head that were causing me to be so discontent.

But, I don't know.

Today was... ugh, I don't even know. It was a Monday. And I knew it was going to suck. I just had a feeling, that, and, well, my Epic Post from Saturday night proved to myself just how frazzled and upset I was. So, that's always a fun way to start the week.

So I showered, and got dress, put on a skirt, and walked out my door. I've decided that skirts might be my new thing this summer. They're fun, they're cute, they're comfortable (usually), and they're totally work appropriate.

I'm in a transitionary period right now... I'm taking on a new account. One account. I'm being forced to give up all my other accounts (my babies) in order to be able to devote my time to it. I've been pretty conflicted about it, it's a great opportunity, but. It's so different from what I'm doing now.

But, I need to start looking forward and not backwards. My accounts will be fine. They were fine before I got there, and they will be fine after I leave them, even if I, you know, sacrificed my free time to take care of them. Whatever. It's okay, really. It has to be.

But. I am starting to warm up to this new endeavor. I'm even daring to let myself be excited about it.

We have a facet of our company that's been steadily growing over the last year and a half or so. So much so that it's actually one of our top accounts, it just happens to be one that we own. It's branched off into a wholesale/retail market, and they're pulling me in to help with this retail marketing side. I'm bringing my wealth of experience and talent to the table, especially insofar as working with our agency and printing (this is a very heavily apparel-based venture). And, well, I don't know. I don't know why they picked me, other than that my accounts were in turmoil anyway with my AE's promotion, so why the hell not. I'd like to think it's because I'm awesome.

Anyway. I'll be working with our retail marketing executive to the degree that I'm pretty much going to be her "partner" in this side of the business. Cool, right? It's the fastest growing part of our company. Print hasn't quite fully recovered from the economic shitstorm in '08, but apparel is in. Which means: I'm basically going in at ground level, and if this gets huge(r), I'm right there with it. Who knows, I may even be able to promote up with this account, better than if I was where I was.

Also? There's the possibility that I will get to travel. This actually excites me to the point where I am trying not to appear excited for fear that they will sense my excitement and not let me do it. I dunno, I'm superstitious like that.

The lady I will be working with is so beyond excited for me to join the team that I've felt horrible about my lack of excitement at the whole process.

It's just... a change. I'm not good with change.

Maybe I'll get there.

Maybe I'll continue to go on hating everything like I did for the good majority of last week.

I dunno. But I'm starting to see a bit of a silver lining which is kind of a relief after all this rain.

Monday, June 7, 2010


So, Blogger was down last night (those bastards) so here's my Sunday night post. You're welcome.

* * *

It's Sunday night and like most Sundays I've managed to waste the entire day. Today it was by sleeping. Like usual. I'm just so tired.

I've got a million things I need to do. I need to clean my apartment... I need to do laundry, pick up the clutter, do some dishes, buy some groceries. The list is pretty much endless. Every single room now looks like it was hit by a small tornado. I've just been too exhausted and busy to do much about it. Today would have been a great day to pick up the slack... but, no. I decided to sleep instead.

And then there are the other things. Things that would maybe get me ahead somewhere. I should try to focus on my photography. I meant to sort out the good pics and once upon a time I thought I'd try to make some money on them. Nah, no time. Shove it to the back burner. I was supposed to make extra money with Pampered Chef... eh, no motivation. I don't have time to do shows right now, or, probably more importantly, even make the effort to book them. To the backburner. I need to clean out my closet and take boxes of shit to Goodwill. Free up some space. Eh, that stuff isn't hurting anything. It can stay a little longer.

I need to finish off some of those blog posts I started. I should type up the ones that are on paper. Finish those drafts. There seems to be no real gain from this except self-satisfaction. Not a priority.

I have a ton of pictures that need to be put on facebook or that I should run prints of. They've waited this long, what's a little longer.

I feel like this list is endless. These are just the first things that came to mind.

There's other things, like softball and taekwondo and holy hell I have so. many. obligations. and I don't have the energy to do anything with any of them. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, at least that's how I think it goes. My intentions are fantastic.

Truth? I'm overwhelmed.

Except, it doesn't feel like it's too much. It feels like it's my fault. I'm spending too much time being stressed and not enough time being proactive. Or even reactive. It feels like I'm not trying hard enough. I'm good at a lot of things but great at nothing. I'm spread too thin and everything suffers. I don't know how I used to do it. I just want to shut down. I can't even focus enough to make a game plan. I can't breathe and I just want to curl back into the fetal position.

Maybe something has to go. But what? What would I quit? What stays? How do I determine what is more important than the rest?

I miss the days where I honestly believed I could do it all.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010


I've been off the grid. For about a week.

The marvelous thing about this, is that I hardly even noticed. In fact, if my IRL friend Maria hadn't emailed me this morning and demanded that I update my blog, who knows how long I would have stayed away.

I mean, to be fair, I had intended on writing something last night. But it was storming all to high hell and when there was a crash of thunder that literally rattled the glassware in my apartment, I decided that maybe my computer wasn't the best place to be.

I forgot what I was going to write about, anyway. Which is funny, because I've been itching to write. I've also been outright devouring books left and right. I've probably read more books over the last few weeks than I have over the last several years (which, to be fair, there's not a hell of a lot of time to free-read in college). My problem is, and I do consider it a problem, is that I am getting bored by fiction. I mean, seriously. I have about six or seven (off the top of my head) books scattered around my nightstand that I've started and am in various stages of progress in. But I grab myself a memoir and I have that bitch done in three days, tops. I don't know why this is. I mean, yeah, ok, I'm going through a phase, where this is what I find interesting, I get it. But the fact that nothing else seems to be holding my attention that well... it annoys me. I have SO MANY books I want to read. And in my overzealousness, I keep starting them and then skipping around.

Is that weird? It's probably weird.

Speaking of fiction, though.

Remember a while ago when I was all FUCK MY CHILDHOOD DREAMS and had pretty much given up on Writing* for good and not-IRL friend Maria was all WHY YOU DO THIS BITCH and I was all I DONT KNOW and then I promptly forgot about the whole thing and carried on with my usual blather?

*like, real writing. Not blog writing. I loves me some blog writing.

Something happened in my brain, guys. Something clicked when I was driving home from my sister's a few weeks ago. I had a lot of time on the road to daydream and I started to piece together fragments of a story. The first bit of fiction I've even tried to write in years. By the time I got home, I had a couple characters, a few scenes of dialogues, and a general plot outline. I let it play out in my mind's eye and typed up what stuck with me when I got home. And while I haven't really touched it since, it's been there, in the back of my mind, a vague, nagging obsession. I want to sit down and see where it goes. I'm playing with ideas in my head and trying to piece out rationale for the parts of my wannabe-story that don't make any sense yet and I've been actually been thinking about if I need to do some reading into certain things or genres (I think they call this "research") and part of my head is actually taking this seriously because I NEED TO CREATE SOMETHING.

The most likely outcome, however, is that nothing will actually come out of it. I might tinker some more, and at the very best, I'll have crapped out a short story of some form. The last time I tried to write a short story, way back in high school, I started out strong and then ran out of both time and motivation and just chopped off the narrative and made it be The End. I got an A on it, but it was obvious that maybe there was more to the general plot arc than I'd bothered to flush out, to put in. I can still sort of remember what I want to do with it, and I found my printed copy of it last weekend, so maybe I'll "finish" it. Maybe I won't. I don't really know.

What I do know is, it feels so damn good to be writing again. To at least have a project to work on. Even if I don't finish it (which I probably won't), at least it is something to do, a chance to play with words, to write something that isn't about my inane daily goings-on.

Since I don't have really much else to say on the matter, I am going to use that last sentence as a segue into.... my daily goings-on.

Where have I been? You might inquire. Assuming you noticed I was gone.

Well, my friends. Not far, for the most part, but off doing non-computer things.

Over the weekend I went up to Minneapolis for a bachelorette party, which was fun. I love Minneapolis. I can't navigate it worth a shit but I adore it. I've really only been in pockets of the city, but I love those pockets. They're MY pockets. Kelly pockets.

We went somewhere in the heart of downtown on Saturday night... our first stop was meant to be a piano bar, which would have been cool, I enjoy piano bars (there's a kickass one in the East Village of Des Moines, if you're ever in the 'hood. I recommend it. Do NOT go to the one out in the snooty 'burbs. That one sucks.). Unfortunately.... one of the girls in our group had an expired license, and left her "my new one is coming" paperwork behind at the apartment. So they didn't let her in. Which would have been all sorts of fine, except that two of us had already been through the line and had paid cover. So basically I paid $8 for the privilege of taking all of two steps past the door guy. Fucking great. I'm sorry, eight dollars is a lot. Especially since I'm a cheapass and not only am I not used to having to pay covers (yay Iowa) but if I do, they're usually only $5 or so. So I'm cranky at that but am pretending like I'm not and we head down to the gay bar and I must just say for the record that the Minnesota drag queens are far superior to the Iowa drag queens. The Iowa queens sort of saunter and strut around and do their lip synching and it's all well and grand but the Minnesota queens? They do flips and carwheels and shake their fucking booty. They EARN their dollars. So that was fun, and that's really the only place we went, because we're old, and because we weren't really sure where else we could go that would let the Expired License in. (We *almost* got turned away by the gay bar, but, well. The gays are awesome and they let us in anyway.)

The next day we went to fucking IKEA which I could probably live in but sadly have to travel 3+ hours to go to. Guys. I love it. I'd been there only once before but I felt like a pro as I flounced around and scribbled down items I liked but probably wouldn't buy. Although I have to say, since I left, I have been OBSESSED with finding some sort of new shelving for my apartment. It didn't help that I acquired more junk that needed to GO on the shelves (we'll get to that) and I'm annoyed that I didn't thoroughly look at shelving while I was there because it will probably be a while til I make it back. Oh, IKEA, my love. My heart yearns for you.

Anyway we went to Mall of America too but it was kind of boring because most of the stores were either redundant from other areas of the mall, stores I was uninterested in, or stores that we have in Des Moines. EXCEPT. The "As Seen on TV" store. Which was fucking awesome. Anyway we left the Mall and then went home.

And I had to drive through a motherfucking tsunami to get there. Seriously. As soon as we got outside the cities, it began to rain... and that rain then turned into a torrential downpour. It was really hard to see and I was actually driving UNDER the speed limit which if you know me is pretty significant because I like to drive fast. We also pulled over once and sat for a bit and then carried on. After about an hour and a half of this maddening, stressful driving, we crossed into the loving arms of Mother Iowa and after about another half an hour it finally let up and was fine. Which was good. Because it was starting to get dark and there was no way in hell I was driving in a dark downpour. We would have detoured and crashed at my dad's.

Speaking of (I'm so good at segues today, ha), I did end up turning around and heading up to visit on Memorial Day (I drove over 700 miles this weekend. And while I like to drive as much as the next person... that's a lot.) To which I found out that his girlfriend was going to be moving in. Which is all sorts of awesome... except... this meant I had to pack up the shit that was in my old bedroom.

I knew this day was bound to come. Seven years, I've been storing my shit in there, never having to deal with it, because I live in a tiny apartment and it was never really in the way.

But, alas.

So I spent most of Monday rifling through my childhood and teenage possessions, occasionally pitching stuff into a box to take back with me. (At one point my dad was like, "do you even have room for this stuff?" and I was all, "no. but i'm taking it anyway, I guess.") Now, my dad was planning to just put it in storage, which is kind of a win-win, because then my crap's not in his house and it's not in my house and nobody has to look at it AND he'd even be paying for it. Awesome, right? Exceeeeept there is a small handful of stuff that I actually DO want that I've just never managed to relocate into my new life. This first round of movement included a lot of the textbooks I'd kept from college (mostly my psych books and a few design ones - the rest of my design books are here already) and some souvenirs and trinkets and stuff that is now causing me to need more shelving (see: IKEA paragraph). The one thing I did NOT find, however, was my album of pictures from Spain. This upsets me. I could have sworn I knew EXACTLY where it was, but now I'm not sure, and I'm not even sure that it's not in one of my boxes here that I never unpacked. (Don't judge me). I did find my official itinerary and a few loose photos and some crap that I bought there, but that was it.

Anyway. Spending the afternoon sifting through my adolescence was really, really weird. As you may have noticed, I am quite ambivalent about my formative years. On the one hand, I absolutely despised them, I was miserable, I was an outcast, I was the weird kid, blah blah blah, but at least it shaped me into the person I am today. On the other hand... I get raging cases of nostalgia and I want to snuggle all the remnants of the bits that made me happy. So, you know. It was weird.

I never know what to keep and what to throw. It should be easy, but I'm a terrible packrat, and I also have that mindset of "maybe it will be useful someday!" and I don't know who I'm kidding because I never have time to be creative anymore let alone find creative uses for all this old shit I won't part with. I had a good conversation with the not-stepmom too... like, when do you toss it? When are you done with it? I mean, right now? I can hoard as much stuff as I so please, because it's MY life and MY apartment and MY space. Maybe if I ever cohabitate or get married or whatever then it will be time to pitch a lot of stuff, just for space-saving reasons. But I'm not there yet and who knows if I ever will be. Besides, these things are pieces of my life, and they're all significant, in their way.

I know, I know. I just need to grab some garbage bags and go to town.

So what I really want to do is buy some new shelving and work on my apartment. I've lived here almost a year now and it's really high time to whip this all into shape.

Anyway, I hope this really stupidly long post satisfies your Kelly withdrawals. Alas, I must be off, to shower and sleep or maybe just sleep, I don't rightly know. I don't feel awesome and I felt even less awesome this morning and tried to stay home sick but only made it until about 10 or so until I started getting phone calls and emails about a project that was in dire need of attention and so I grumbled a bit and hauled my ass in about 11:30 and ended up getting a lot done today, but, yeesh. This is why I don't take vacations. I cannot even be at peace on a day when I'm supposed to be legitimately off the radar. Sigh. (To be fair, I was going to try to come in this afternoon anywayyyyy but I feel like I got gypped about an hour of cocoon-time.)

I know, I know. I secretly love it. Shut up.