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Fitness Tip

1 Mar

A few months ago I had to stop running.  I know, right?  I love running.  I love the pain, the grit, the challenge.  It. is. AWESOME.

But sometimes we humans become aware of our frailties and find ourselves unable to continue an activity we enjoy.*  The result?

Plushiness.

When I finally got back into the gym, I discovered something amazing.  Sure, my leg strength was about that of a baby duck’s, but my arms were amazing.  I actually had to up my weights.

How in the world does one stay out of the gym for three months and end up with Herculean upper body strength?

I left out a small detail.

I got a dog.  I got a mastiff.  And he does not walk nicely on a leash.

He is a 90 pound shake weight on a  rope.

So if you find yourself to be a weakling, go adopt an adult mastiff.  He will force you to get stronger or die.**

* I have since recovered from my leg problem and am nearly back up to speed.

** I really do not advocate adopting a giant breed dog solely for building upper body strength.  It’s just a fun benefit of owning a mini-cerberus.

A Word or Two on Your Upcoming Court Date

26 Feb

If you ever should find yourself in a situation that requires a trial I have one very valuable peice3 of advice for you: Your court date is not the day to wear your head to toe St Louis Cardinals outfit*.  It is highly encouraged that you wear a suit or perhaps just a nice shirt and tie.  You should also instruct your lawyer that while you approve of his snazzy dress in a normal every day setting, you would appreciate it if he would leave his pimp hat at home for your trial.

I f you are a female, today is not the day to show the world your LBT** or your trampstamp.  Instead, it would be adviseable for you to wear something a little on the conservative side. (Think turtleneck and pants)

I am sure that many of you are wondering how you will express yourself or make a statement about your individuality with the above guidelines.  The answer?  Let your lawyer make your statements.***

* Or really any type of sports gear.

** LBT is a lovely abbreviation for “left boob tattoo”

***Unless, of course, your lawyer is wearing a pimp hat.  Then, you should get a new lawyer.

The Fate of The Modern American Woman

16 Aug

Once upon a time, a woman named Eve made a mistake. A huge Mistake. It changed the course of humanity forever. She talked to a snake and disobeyed God. The punishment? Mortality, pain during childbirth, banishment from paradise, etc. But what the Bible does not say is what I believe is an unspoken part of The Curse:
“Also, you will have menstrual cramps and be obligated to attend baby showers until you die.”
I understand that some people find sitting around with a group of women looking at items that are soon to be puked and defecated upon to be a most pleasant way to spend one’s afternoon. Those people are crazy.
I just don’t understand why the North American Baby Shower has to be so weird. The worst part? Men don’t have to go.  Men go eat steak.  Men go watch movies.  Men go fire guns and shoot bows and arrows.  Men get to play video games.   While women. . . sit primly nibbling a  jello jiggler shaped like a foot while listening to everyone’s grossest blow out diaper story or most horrifying labor experience. Does anyone really want to go to a shower? No! Do they want to give a gift? Yes! So here is my proposal to all pregnant ladies everywhere: REBEL. We are celebrating the baby’s birth day, right? Ok, so lets have a birthday party. Invite spouses. Play normal games. Have a cook out. Buy some balloons. Listen to grown up music because it’s your last chance for that type of thing.
So what do you say ladies? Can we reform the standard baby shower from the fruit of my nightmares into something fun? Who’s with me?
* Aside: This post was inspired by baby showers in general and not any shower in particular. This means that if you are a friend or family member, you ought not be offended as I probably did have at least an inkling of enjoyment at your shower especially if I helped throw it.

Job Testing And Not Celebrating Femininity

7 Jul

“When in doubt, wear black, and if your blacks don’t match, the gray Michael Kohr’s will do” My mantra, my silliness. My “I really don’t know what I’m getting into but darn it I will look great!” -ness. Job testing. What?
A few months ago I was unceremoniously chucked from a position I enjoyed. To make a long story short: the thing was unjust and really really nasty.
After a brief ‘sabatical’ (including yet another weird and allergy ridden trip to my home town. . .why do I go there???), I was ready for something new. As of late my incessant applying is garnering attention. . .Companies seem to think that I want to drive to Saint Louis and or Midtown for a position. Of course.
Tuesday night I had some ‘testing’ for an interesting looking position. So with much stress (why? because, actually a job hunt gets harder in a lot of ways once you’ve spent a year on the other side of the hiring table. . but not far enough over on that table to matter, just far enough to learn. . .a lot), and much ultra professionalism I made my way to the testing site. I entered the lobby. And nearly walked right back out. I had assumed that this was going to be somewhat like an interview. Nope! I was greeted by about 20 pairs of beady little eyes. Nasty stares. Cattiness seeping out of every pore of about 12 of these women. Nervousness emanating from 6 others. and some actual kindness from the other two.
“Good God, I do NOT need this!” I said to myself. Shook my hair back, remembered that I lost 5 pounds this week and strode purposely forward, projecting confidence and success with every stomp of my fantastic heels. Signed in. Took a seat next to one of the few nice looking ladies while I ignored glares from 360 degrees.
Mutterings about stiff competition. For 45 minutes I sat. Bored, annoyed, and trying to figure out if I could somehow organize the women to sing rounds or tell stories or somehow cut the tension. I personally was all for singing, and swaying, and well, you know, my imagination was probably too much for this job anyways.
Finally we went down through a perennially chic labyrinth (it will be outdated in about 5 years) and into the abyss. .. or testing room. And we took the most hilarious customer service attitude test of my life. And I had to be calm, quiet and professional the ENTIRE time. Now, the second it was announced that the testing was customer service, I probably should have left. You see, I am good at it, but every time I take a multiple choice test along these lines I do HORRIBLY. So does Phil. And so do most of my very best friends. And we really aren’t awful people. Anyhow, the thing was hilarious simply because of poor acting and the 80’s-ness of it all. What’s a Katie to do when there are people walking across the screen with make-up to rival a production of “Cats”? How about when the Boy George look a likes come on?? Oh my. It was insanity.

I am NOT expecting to hear back on this opportunity. It’s a good one, but they are testing 90 people for one position. And only interviewing the top 5 scorers. Given my history with such tests, I will be surprised if I get a call back.

Of course, this leads me to a point that is somewhat related to my job search and life in general and please help me, please TELL me why I am wrong, I need to know: I think EVERYONE who tries to tell me or most women to celebrate their femininity is full of garbage. It would be easier for me to accept this if well, if women weren’t so mean! I don’t feel the need to own purple things (I actually have a women’s devotional Bible with some articles by one of my pastors in it that I will not read because every time I look at it I feel that it is ‘too purple’), I don’t want to wear a red hat(well, maybe I do, but not a Red Hat Lady Hat), I hate “gushy” feeling talk, I will not complain about my husband with you, nor will I gush the intimate details of my life OR have a statue of one of my future children in utero on my coffee table! Really. I do not LIKE gushy silly women worship. Especially because, ladies, we aren’t that great. Now don’t misjudge me, there are women I love and I am fine with being one myself, but on a whole, I’m sick of females. I’m sick of having to put up with catty women who never got over high school. Heck, I’m tired of running into the same petty, silly, immaturity that I endured for all 3 years I was in high school! If you are claiming to be a grown woman you need to put that behind you, grow some ovaries and get over yourself. I expect so much more! Of course, I always have.
In my job search I am keeping a few things at the forefront of my mind. One of them is that I am not desperate for a job. The other is that I will NEVER work in an office full of women again.
Really as of late I’m so terrified of being stuck in a mundane position in which my creativity is either being wasted or attributed to someone else that I really don’t have much pep. I really just need to find a creative way to bring in income.
Of course I do have a couple back up plans:
1) write a Pulitzer Prize Winning Novel
2)Be a rock star