I'd kill for a Corona right now.

I'm sitting in my apartment. Naked. Sweating. This is not a pretty picture. I smell. It's not BO yet. The smell of when Degree has just about given up on you. That's what I smell like. Body-heat activated, my ass.

I fully believe sweating is misleading. It suggests one is doing something productive. Working out. Fighting crime. Perhaps some sort of welding.

Catholicmatch.com is for suckers, I've decided. There is one hottie on the entire site and I'm fighting the entire Catholic female population of the tri-State area for him. What the eff. Church doesn't prove much more effective as I live in the theater district and most theater boys are gay. Not that I should necessarily be checking out boys at church but old habits .. .

It's easier to feel fat when it's hot out, no? Any roll of any size is collective a putrid puddle of glaze just underneath. I'm gonna go pour ice on myself. In order to have a Corona right now, I'd have to shower on put on clothes. No Corona for me. The heat is making me stupid. Good night.

That not-so-fresh feeling . . .

My apartment is hot. Somehow, I'm able to justify, in my mind, arriving early and staying late for work by thinking of just how disgusting my apartment is right now.

My father and I haven't talked in a week for reasons I still don't understand. I think it's something like: my sister got married so now my dad only has me to pick on.

Thankfully, James Earl Jones called in his stead last night. He left a message on my answering machine.

"Good evening. This is Verizon calling to tell you that your Verizon DSL is now available for use."

James Earl Jones and my dad . . . not so different.

"Kadrin, I am ya fodder . . . "

In other news, my favorite ep of "Will and Grace" was on yesterday. Grace sleeps with superhottie John Slattery who plays Will's straight brother. He's luscious like the gravy fries I consumed last night. Click on link above, won't you?

In addition, I'm looking for a second job. Any ideas that don't involve me whoring it up will be most appreciated.

Uma Thurman is my girlfriend

Wow, I resisted watching Kill Bill Vol 1 and 2 for some time now. Little did i know it was all girl power and shit. Wow.

Been swamped at work, which is where I traditionally blog. I get to work at 9am, Balance Bar (caramel nut blast) and black iced coffee with two sugars in hand, and ruminate on life's stupidity. Alas, I have had no time. Job kicks ass, though. Sadly, my boss who is the coolest chick ever, is leaving the company. Figures. Note title of blog, por favor.

I've holed myself up in my apartment for the day so as to catch up on much needed writing time and do some house cleaning. I have the following not-especially-interesting revelations to share:

1) sushi = excellent comfort food
2) Darryl Hannah hasn't aged a bit.
3) Tarantino is a fucking fantastic writer (re-visited True Romance after watching Kill Bills).
4) sometimes, I drink too much. (note to self: consider eating dinner BEFORE happy hour).
5) if I ever get married, i'm going to Vegas and i'm sending out an evite. a nice Catholic priest who doubles as an Elvis impersonator will do the honors.
6) i'm way too poor for my apartment to be this hot.
7) one of my cousins at my sister's wedding said "you'll never regret being nice." i've decided this is bullshit and that not everyone deserves your kindness. there is a fine line between nice and spineless and oftentimes, i've fallen on the wrong side of nice. this, amongst countless other reasons, is why i could never be a successful Buddhist.


Told you they weren't interesting.

Uma Thurman is my girlfriend

Wow, I resisted watching Kill Bill Vol 1 and 2 for some time now. Little did i know it was all girl power and shit. Wow.

Been swamped at work, which is where I traditionally blog. I get to work at 9am, Balance Bar (caramel nut blast) and black iced coffee with two sugars in hand, and ruminate on life's stupidity. Alas, I have had no time. Job kicks ass, though. Sadly, my boss who is the coolest chick ever, is leaving the company. Figures. Note title of blog, por favor.

I've holed myself up in my apartment for the day so as to catch up on much needed writing time and do some house cleaning. I have the following not-especially-interesting revelations to share:

1) sushi = excellent comfort food
2) Darryl Hannah hasn't aged a bit.
3) Tarantino is a fucking fantastic writer (re-visited True Romance after watching Kill Bills).
4) sometimes, I drink too much. (note to self: consider eating dinner BEFORE happy hour).
5) if I ever get married, i'm going to Vegas and i'm sending out an evite. a nice Catholic priest who doubles as an Elvis impersonator will do the honors.
6) i'm way too poor for my apartment to be this hot.
7) one of my cousins at my sister's wedding said "you'll never regret being nice." i've decided this is bullshit and that not everyone deserves your kindness. there is a fine line between nice and spineless and oftentimes, i've fallen on the wrong side of nice. this, amongst countless other reasons, is why i could never be a successful Buddhist.


Told you they weren't interesting.

sonicare + dildo = kath's blog

that's right, good readers. if you do a google search using the above words, you will get this blog. i love it.

i find myself thinking of very random people for no apparent reason. on a daily basis.

por ejemplo,
The woman who called roll at jury duty last April. She was slightly overweight, African-American with a kickin' southern accent of which I was insanely jealous. Everyone was half asleep. It was 9am in the morning.

"Jose Ruiz?"
no answer.
"Jose Ruiz?"
"Oh! Here."
"Well, good mor-nin!"

You couldn't help but be happy upon hearing her because she sounded so delighted to see you.

Then there's this weird woman who comes to my gym. I think she's Hispanic but I'm not sure. She comes in the same snazzy red and black gym suit every day. She carries an old pink Conway bag. It's full of miscellaneous periodicals. She comes up the half flight of stairs to a stretching,/ free weight area where I'm attempting to hold a plank position for a full minute. She lays down, her back pressed against a pillar and puts her feet up on one of those big physioballs. Then she delves deep into the Conway bag and pulls out a NY Post or similar and reads. She wears huge headphones. She smells like staleness. Stale what, I don't know. Something both metallic and musty. Periodically she does exactly three leg lifts. She stays there for hours. I dare not ask her for the physioball that the rest of my workout requires. Her hair looks like a wig.

These are the people I think about. Amongst other bizarre folk, for sure.

is there such a thing as drunk emailing?

sweet merciful Christ. i'll leave it up to your imaginations but i have several things to post about today which must wait until i eat breakfast and ingest more caffeine. but suffice it to say i'm a dork. a dork with fantastic hair.

Kids say the most fucked up things ..

Note to self: little people have big ears. And mouths.

My sister got married on Saturday. It was a family reunion of shocking proportions. My cousin's 7-year-old daughter heard me refer to my Aunt Patricia as mean, evil, etc. Unbeknownst to me, upon meeting my Aunt Patricia for the first time at the Williams Wedding Breakfast, my cousin's daughter said:

"Cousin Katherine says you're the mean and evil one."

My cousin and her husband looked at me at the other end of the table. Smiling kindly, wildly even, they mouthed the words:

"We're going to hurt you."

In other news, the strapless bra was great.

There were two, yes, two single men at the wedding. One was gay with bad teeth and high-fived the aforementioned evil Aunt multiple times. The other had an 18-year-old daughter and had a date with a butterface.

My various relatives' answer to why I didn't have a boyfriend? (a matter of great import to them). I needed a tan. Guys don't like pale girls.

Jesus Christ.

I got nothin.

I'm overcaffeinated.
I'm down to the last pistachios in the jar . . you know, the ones you can't crack. In turn, I have ruined several of my already short nails in the attempt to eat said nuts.
I must buy a strapless bra tonight. I hate strapless bras. They're the most worthless invention ever. They fall down. They're not supportive. But I don't want to be the maid of honor at my sister's wedding this weekend and have unfettered boobs.
"Kad, dere's nuddin worse dan boobs before dinner" (direct pre-Prom quote)
Point being, at least if I wear a strapless bra I can't be accused of not trying to fetter my boobs.
I have farmer's tan on my left arm. Coincidentally, I had farmer's tan on both arms at my brother's wedding. Perhaps it's a sign of good things to come. Farmer's tan on one arm equals shotgun wedding. Both equals held out for marriage. Ugh. Tim, you can come up with something better, I'm sure.