My New Waste Of Time

Today when I was reading one of the hundreds of blogs I read, I came across this new waste of time. You can either enter your own words or enter a website address and it takes the text from your rss feed and makes you nice little word "clouds" as they call them. Here is mine from entering my website address.





Go on... you know you want to waste your time!

Waiting

Because it is late and I don’t have the energy to write one of the million things I have been meaning to write I will leave you with a Facebook IM conversation between my friend Marcus Geraldo and myself tonight. I work with Marcus Geraldo at the sweatshop restaurant and tonight, at work we had a pleasant exchange of compliments insults.

Marcus Geraldo is also a stand up comedian you can find him here www.Marcusisfunny.com

*Names have been scratched out to protect the innocent

Marcus Geraldo-hey sorry for calling you grumpy or moody or whatever I said tonight

Katie-haha i dont care I thought it was funny (MANAGER) thought we were really fighting. I think we always talk to each other like that

Marcus Geraldo-yeah, but it was kinda mean

Katie- you were super grumpy tonight... and i can be super moody and grumpy there
I need to go get a real job I'm too old and have been doing this shit too long

Marcus Geraldo-I feel that way too. This comedy shit better take off soon. I'm tired of working like a rube

Katie-I even wonder if for the time I should just go be a manager somewhere
I would feel like such a loser if I did that
but it has benefits and not less bullshit, but different bullshit

Marcus Geraldo-yeah, but would it be worth the money?

Katie- for benefits yeah, for me to have decent health insurance it’s like 300 a month

Marcus Geraldo-wow, mine's way cheaper than that. You have a third arm or some shit?
don't tell me if it's personal

Marcus Geraldo-I don't like you enough to care

Katie- no just a past of shit, nothing super major but they still freak out about anything

Marcus Geraldo-and the HIV? say it... "and the HIV"

Katie- yeah that and herpes

Katie- and you would not even imagine how much crabs raise insurance these days

Marcus Geraldo-that's your fault for getting the over the counter shampoo...

Katie- that was shampoo?

Katie- I think I might just post this conversation on my website

Marcus Geraldo- go for it. but can you change my name to Geraldo?

Boobies and Butts

As mentioned before St. Louis holds the second largest Mardi Gras next to New Orleans and it happens to be right in my little neck of the woods. So sure enough, despite warning of others that live around us we stocked up on beer and opened our doors to our friends. My good friend Ryan flew in from Colorado, because God knows my friends hate to miss a good party even more than I do. We cooked breakfast for over fifty people and then the boobies and bare butts were flying out of our windows. Not our boobies or bare butts because we like to pretend from time to time that we are too classy for such acts. I won't however claim that I do not associate with folks who are too classy to do such a thing.

Surprisingly upon awakening the next morning I found not even a single can of beer to be thrown away; my friends are just that good. Other than having to scrape about ten inches of black shoe/snow/slush/beer/what ever else film off my floor and relocate a missing toilet seat there was nothing left but my perfect little apartment.

Which actually do not fit at all into what I was expecting. Mostly I expected the worst, not that I think badly of my friends, but packing 100,000 thousand people into a tiny town that might be about a square mile big never seems like a good idea to be involved in. Oh, and a little because my brother and I used to make a game out of stealing the little rod that holds in people's toilet paper at parties in college. I was sure Karma was going to hit. That and the fact I used to make fun of retarded kids never helps much in the karma department either.

Other than kicking out a few random people; three guys who informed us we should lock our door, and one girl whom my friend insisted to me, just needed to use the bathroom and I was not to worry because she "seemed really nice," Things went amazingly well. I liked the "seem's really nice." Because, you know, people who are going to steal your shit and barf in your bath tub are always assholes first.

I will leave you with a few pictures from the event, leaving out of course most of the people that were here, as most of them are teachers and I am sure would prefer the internet not be plastered with pictures of them playing drinking games, dancing, or putting lighters in their butts. You can see our street before, a float at the parade, and a ton of boys staring at my upstairs neighbors window as they had many more bags being flashed up their than we did.

I miss my friend Ryan already, and I can assure you that if any of you have a friend Ryan he is not nearly as cool, good looking, funny or tolerant as mine friend Ryan is. And no you can't have him because I want him all to myself. So just continue living your own lives with your own friend Ryan's knowing they will never be as good as mine.

Stage Mom

I am long overdue for an update. The past few weeks have been busy as shit. I live in a neighborhood in St. Louis which holds the second to largest Mardi Gras next to, of course, New Orleans. The crazy started a few weeks ago with a pet parade, and yes I must admit I joined in with thousands of other folks in dressing up my dogs in embarrassing outfits and parading them through dog poop filled streets mimosa’s in hand.

Deciding what Henry would be was easy as he insisted in his doggy ways that he refused to attend unless he was dressed as none other than his hero, Andrew Dice Clay. I swear people I didn’t ask for this dog to be this way, but isn’t part of being a parent allowing your dogs to express themselves in anyway they see fit?

Pedro was harder to pick a costume for. After weeks of discussion, as if there wasn’t a war going on or economic crisis in the world, we made the important decision that Pedro would attend as an old lady’s dog. Covered in flowers, feathers, beads, and what ever crap we could find in the craft store. In other words Pedro went as a giant Gay.

My friend Emily and I ventured into the suburbs (a land in which I never go) and hunted for a child’s sized pleather jacket, and anything and everything purple, green and yellow.

Tom told me I would make a great pageant mom and I ran around frivolously, freaking out about how my dogs MUST win. That there was no way there could be a better looking set of dogs in this entire town. Already making us excuse of why they didn’t win in the instance they didn’t. You know because the judges didn’t see them, or the judging was rigged, or the judges were jealous. Or we were disqualified because Henry had a pack of cigarettes taped to his arm and that has to be taboo.



After hours of crafting it occurred to me we were totally wasting out time. No way, no hell, were these dogs going to keep these costumes on. I think the pageant mom in me even threatened to staple the costumes right to their little bodies if they refused to participate in the madness of dogs in clothes.

I couldn’t have been more shocked than I was the time they ate razor blades and pooped them out.

Lo and behold –

Henry Dice Clay, and Pedro The Giant Gay









And in case you were wondering the dogs did not win. It was not because they were not seen, or the judging was rigged and I don’t think it was because anyone was jealous or because of the pack of Marlboro Reds stuck on my dog, but simply because we didn’t make it to the judging circle… Momma was out of Mimosa and we all know where priorities lie in this family!

Because I Even Get On My Own Nerves...Sometimes

Because it has been a week or so… Life is crazy busy here at the Katie/Tom house. Busy, in good things… good work, good school, good ol’ time wasting. Mardi Gras is next week and I have friends coming in so it’s been busy getting stuff ready for that. Also I saw some terrible comedy shows, did a few open mic’s, ran into a few people I didn’t like, and realized I need to learn to say “NO.” Is it a woman thing? I wonder, the art of not being able to say “No”, ever? Want me to design you a restaurant menu, ok, a website, ok, go to your birthday party even though I have other things to do? Ok!

I personally am tired of Ok’s and ready for more No’s!
I did however say YES to the digital camera Tom bought, and I promise picture tomorrow of the Mardi Gras dog parade in which my buddies went as
1. Andrew Dice Clay- complete with a pack of Marlboro REDS
2. Gay- covered in old lady fake flowers, feathers, butterflies, and a fabulously handmade tutu.

Until then, Internet… “drum roll” as I let you into “my life with a digital camera” – some chicken chotchkie (is that how I spell it?) trying to commit suicide in my toilet. Just another amazing reason we HAD to have a digital camera!


And incase you didn’t have enough of me tonight, here is what I read at the open mic this evening… keep in mind as it was written ten minute before I left it isn’t edited yet. And if you need an explanation the beginning is about a writer friend that was there tonight so if you were there it would make sense.
You coming tonight? Lisa asks me. Not on the phone. Lisa and I don’t talk on the phone. Lisa and I talk on Facebook because Lisa and I spend to much time on Facebook. Sometimes talking, sometimes playing scrabble which she always whoops my ass because I am perhaps the only person alive who can manage to use the word “Jog” three times on one bored. I wish the points were scored on how many times you can use the same word on one board. Or how many three letter words you know, because I would have her whooped and she could take her seventy point words and shove them.
“I don’t think so” I respond. “I don’t have anything new to read and tons of shit to do.”
“Read one of the ones you didn’t read last time.” She suggests.
“Ok did I read the one about bartending I ask?” Yep she says.
“Did I read the one about being twenty eight-divorced- living in an apartment-drinking less- and having a twenty one year old boyfriend- but yet I’m still ok with being me?” I question. Then I interrupt myself. Well it isn’t really interrupting on Facebook, as it is more like typing faster than she can to answer myself before she does. “ Oh yeah I read that one. Or those twenty because basically that’s all I’ve written in like forty years.”
“You aren’t even forty” she reminds me.
“Ok well it feels like forty years and basically my writing is getting on my own nerves.” “Scratch that in general I am getting on my own nerves, in life, in general”


Nothing new has happened, nothing in a long time. Nothing writing worthy. Unless you all want me to bore you with my take on the latest TV shows since I realized a month ago its 2009 and maybe I should get cable TV, well a TV first and then Cable. So if you want to hear my obsession with John and Kate Plus eight you can go to my website and find writings of that at any time.

Other wise life is boring. Or maybe as my father would say I am finally “content”. Which is great an all except for the fact content women rarely make history or ummm content women rarely have stuff to write about.

I can’t write an entire essay about dressing my dog up as Andrew Dice Clay for the pet parade even though it was super great. I can’t write an entire essay about having beers with the people I work with after work because that’s boring. And there are only so many essays I can write about being a waitress because lets face it, most of you probably suck to wait on, and tip crappy, and the point is it gets old bitching about it because the only person who sucks more than you is me because I wake up everyday and chose to wait on you.

I am on my own nerves…Seriously. I need some excitement. Some writing material.

I proposed to Tom. Thinking shit why not at least it would give me something to write about. I even at one point suggested he start dating. I personally am pretty over dating but know it gives me huge amount of material and I figures shit, he’s young let him date. I could write an entire novel about letting my live in boyfriend date. I only got weary when he said yes to both the proposal and dating and I realized I don’t really like writing thaaaat much.
I even considered getting a tape worm. Did you know that… you can buy a tape worm online for weight lose purposes. I told my friend at work I was seriously considering this because A I would get skinny and B I would have something to write about. I decided against this writing material upon further research when I realized to get them out they have to be pulled out of your butt. No thanks.

I have convinced the very little English speaking busser at my work that Tom and I are in fact brother and sister and we just make out sometimes. When asked by a girl at work to explain a day in the life of Tom and Katie, I simply told her it involves a lot of laughing singing and running around trying to shove objects in each others bottoms. See I am even on my nerves with the fact I have just now written about two lies involving putting something up or taking something out of my butt.

I’ve gone as far as lying to people to try and excite my life. Recently at a friends birthday party. I announced to my entire staff at work that Tom and I were trying to conceive. This only being funny if you know me, or Tom, and would realize that in a matter of minute this baby would be dead, if it ever even made it to see the light outside of my Judy. Not because we are mean or anything, but because we have the combined responsibility of an eight year old with ADHD and a crack whore for a mother.

So really I have just wasted seven minutes of your time telling you as I told Lisa earlier I HAVE NOTHING TO WRITE ABOUT.

“Finish with a love poem” she said
I have no rhythm and I can’t rhyme I tell her.

But because Lisa thinks she is the boss of me, I sometimes I let her win… I now will allow you all to take my poetry virginity.


I love my boyfriend
More than I love my rear end
It gives me no ideas in my brain
And is making my life quite plain
I have no rhythm, I cannot write.
So now you see I’ve wasted your time tonight.

Emails I Hate

These are the kind of emails I hate. In fact I think most sane people despise these emails. Anything that involves me "sending something back to you" "Sending something to other people" Or most important anything that threatens me if I don't. This particular email I found worth mentioning because does anyone really believe God would be so mean? To wreak havoc on the lives of those who do not forward this email? Is God bored? Is there no facebook in heaven?

Read at your own risk ladies because I have a feeling if you don't pass this on your Judy's will turn to stone, and that will make for a very unpleasant Valentines Day.


Look closely at this picture


The President of Argentina received this picture called it 'junk mail', 8 days later his son died. A man received this picture & immediately sent out copies..his surprise was winning the lottery. Alberto Martinez received this picture, gave it to his secretary to make copies but they forgot to distribute:

she lost her job & he lost his family. This picture is miraculous & sacred. Forward to 1O people.

And Yet Another Amazing Friends Happens to Have a Birthday...

Dearest Karen/K-Fish/Mixologist Extraordinaire

Happy Birthday (One Day Late). As some of you know I have made a habit of writing happy birthday letters to my friends on here, somewhat because I want them to know how much I love them, and in a way because mostly I am super bad at telling people how I feel about them to their faces. And a tiny part because I am narcissistic and want them to know what their original “birthday” means to me, even if I met them some twenty five years after their entrance into the world.
So Karen, Happy F’in 26! To you Twenty Six might be different than it is to other people. Maybe because you were raised different than most people. For those sheltered in St. Louis it might be down right strange, or awkward. I can swear on my life you would have no idea how many times I have joked about “Ozark BBQ.” Because to you Karen, Ozark BBQ is my first Chili’s where I learned the super neato craft of waiting tables. Or being someone’s bitch for tips. It’s like being a hooker Karen, only I am certain that hookers get paid much more than we do. So I would be a liar to say I haven’t done your voice 18,000 times using the words “Ozark BBQ.” But the bottom line Karen is I know your “Ozark BBQ” is a part of your life none of us will ever understand and those times in your life are the times that made you who you are today.
That’s what makes you Karen; you aren’t an open book. In fact I find you to be one of the most intriguing people I have met here in St. Louis. You think you lay it all out, but in a way you are some sort of weird mystery to all of us. Not the kind of mystery Michael Fitzgerald reads that have strange titles, strange names all involving cupcakes or strudel and some kind of killer but, a real true mystery. You have to be one of the smartest people I have ever met, and yet Karen you know how to “shake it likes it’s hot” and be down right crazy. So sometimes you wake up and wonder “what the hell did I do last night?” And sometimes I have an answer for you, and sometimes I don’t. And sometimes what you did was excusable and sometimes it wasn’t. I for one am not a stranger to doing the inexcusable. And really, Karen, as they say “well behaved women rarely make history.” And I’m not saying that is an excuse for every time one of us fucks up or does something really stupid, and it is certainly no excuse to do bad things, but Karen, I think, for the cards you were dealt you are really doing ok. I think you love Mason more than any of us will ever understand, and I know you had kids young, and I know Karen you are smart enough to end up doing the right thing.
I think you will continue to come into your own and figure this life thing out. And I only hope that when you figure it out you will remember those of us that are still trying to figure it out.
I think you should be proud of last night. Most of us would be honored to find that we had twenty friends, in one town, willing to sit down and eat dinner with us. Mostly Karen, I think you should be proud that you will forever and always be the only "Karen Fisher". The only Karen Fisher I feel is worth knowing. The only Karen Fisher I feel proud to know. You are unique and funky. And I know there wasn’t a person in that room last night that you wouldn’t have gone to the ends of the earth for if they asked you too. You are a better person than most of us are. And the rest of things Karen, will work themselves out, or you will work them out ,because you have to be hands down the smartest Karen Fisher I will ever know.

I love you Karen, and, more importantly, so many other people do as well!

Katie Lauren

The Only Person I Know Who Carries More Guilt Than I Do

Tom called this afternoon to tell me some girl hit his car. It wasn't anything bad but it was clearly her fault which she refused to recognize. They exchanged phone numbers and moments later she called him. After turning around and going back through the intersection she realized it was, in fact, her fault. So what does she offer to do?
1. Contact her insurance?
2. Pay for the damages/settle it out of insurance?
3. Take him out for ice cream?

Yep 3. And what does Tom do?

1. Get her insurance information?
2. Ask her for money for the damages? (Which I wouldn't either for something so minor)
3. Go eat ice cream with her and her friend.

Yep 3.

Now none of this is something I have a problem with except for the fact of how thee story was told to me.

Young girl-Hits Car-Ice cream date-

Lucky for me I am the furthest thing from the jealous type but I found this situation extremely rare/weird/funny.

So I ask how he came to the conclusion that he should have ice cream with her and he says "She felt really really bad." "So then I felt really really bad." "And I couldn't let come complete stranger out there think I was mad at her"

I guess I should be happy she didn't invite him to her bed, because shit we all know you have to do what you have to do so complete strangers don't think you are mad at them.

Katie Lauren

When mornings in My House Go Bad

I woke up this morning when Tom was leaving for school. Yes internet, I date a school boy and I am just totally ok with this. So as he was leaving for school I reminded him to pick out something totally "gay-ish" to wear. Why you ask? Tom is taking an Oral Communications corse which I think is just the long name for Waste of Time and Money 101. Last week when playing some stupid get to know you game the idea was presented to the class that Tom was perhaps gay. And Tom being...well... Tom didn't really bother to say otherwise. So here is the conversation that took place at 7:00 am in my house

Me: You better wear some tights pants or something you don't want to disappoint them

Tom: What everyone who wears tight pants is gay?

Me: No Tom, but perhaps maybe it was your sweet Reba shirt you wore last week that tipped them off

Tom: So, what everyone who likes Reba is gay?

Me: No Tom not everyone who likes Reba is gay. But Twenty something boys who wear airbrushed Reba shirts from the 80's are.

Tom: How's the weather back there in 1950?



**** Disclaimer The picture of the Reba shirt posted is not in fact the Reba shirt Tom owns and insists on wearing. The Reba shirt Tom owns and insists on wearing is in fact WORSE if you can even believe it.

Katie Lauren

Toddlers, Tiaras and Barfing

Getting cable, although enjoyable and a super time waster, has also led us to many episodes of wanting to barf all over each other. I thought it was bad enough watching VH1 shows where the washed up, no name celebrities get "sober" on national television. Or the show where the lady leaves her child for a few weeks to date twin bisexuals on a reality show, but nothing and I mean nothing beats Toddlers and Tiaras. This is sick and actually made me cry for a bit tonight. I do realize that all people choose different ways to raise their children and for the most part passing judgement as a non mother isn't fair of me but this is sad and sick and weird.

Lists are a result of writers block

Because I had a particularly good day I am leaving you with a list of 25 things I love

1. Tom
2. Pedro (dog #1)
3. Henry aka Phone aka Mischief Maker aka Henry Dice Clay (Dog #2) but don't tell him because he already has a big enough head.
4. Pork Roll
5. My computer
6. Tom's Computer
7. Smoking (yuck I get it, but I do LOVE IT)
8. Hearing about how happy my best friend Steph is (because she deserves to be)
9. My best friend Steph
10. My other best friend Michelle
11. All of my friends
12. Reconnecting with old friends
13. The neighborhood I live in
14. The back of babies necks
15. Facebook(yeah I said it I love it)
16. Perez Hilton (I understand if you stop talking to me over this, but it is my dirty little obsession)
17. The fact that Steph totally understood I put Pork Roll above her on the list of things I love
18. The fact Steph agreed she would also put Pork Roll above me if this was her list
19. Positive people
20. Traveling
21. John & Kate Plus 8 (I can't get enough)
22. My brother
23. Change
24. Reading
25. Laughing

Hmmm easier than I thought. So Internet... what do you love?

Katie Lauren