What does it say about me that the last 15 minutes of "Dirty Dancing" STILL gives me chills? I watch it, and suddenly I'm all, "YEAH, GODAMMIT! NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER! SCREW YOU, LENNIE BRISCOE!"
I didn't notice until tonight, however, that the all-dancers number at the end, in the ballroom, was apparently choreographed by the same person that did the "Thriller" video, with the weird shoulder-hunching and crotch-first flouncing about. Seriously. Check it out.
I would also like to say for the record that Patrick Swayze appeared on "Whoopi" the other night (wearing leather pants), and after all these years, he still has a spectacular ass.
My libido typed that last sentence. Please accept my sincere apologies.
posted by Kate at 11:33 PM link/comments
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
On my list of "Signs That I Married The Right Man":
Yesterday afternoon I emailed Marc to complain that I was having a really. shitty. day. When I walked in the door last night, there was a large, made-from-scratch-with-just-the-right-amount-of-horseradish bloody mary waiting for me on the dining room table. My husband rules.
posted by Kate at 11:48 AM link/comments
There's some part of me that wants to reprove your stance, Becky, and say, "READ THE NEWS, DAMMIT!" I realize, however, that my need for the news is probably verging on sickness. I eat my breakfast each morning in front of CNN, multitasking as I attempt to suck down oatmeal, watch the news ticker, and pay attention to the story at hand, all at once. I cannot leave the living room for the shower in good conscience until I: a) get pissed off at least once and b) listen to the delightfully cantankerous Jack Cafferty read his email.
posted by Kate at 11:44 AM link/comments
Monday, February 23, 2004
all i have to say is wow..... i am not even through all of the images and i am already just blown away...
my parents always harass me for not watching the news, not knowing what is going on in the world... and then when i do, my senses are overwhelmed by how much heinous crap is going on in the world today... i can't even begin to fathom why there are people on this planet who believe that being married is only certain people's right...
ugh, it is things like this that keep me firm in my stance to not watch the news or read newspapers... i dont need the media to remind me how much most of our fellow homo sapiens suck-diddly-uck!
posted by Becky at 11:32 PM link/comments
There are beautiful pictures to be seen here. That some people can look at what happened in San Francisco -- look at the love and joy that flies right off the monitor screen in these images to kick your heart in the ass -- and still twist their faces in hate and contempt just proves that there is something very wrong with this world. I teared up looking at these. I think half the tears were normal "wedding" tears, and the other half were from the knowledge that it would give so many people in our country pleasure to take this joy away from someone else.
posted by Kate at 10:42 AM link/comments
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
And now, a list of noises that are driving me insane:
1. They ("they" meaning "the incompetent fix-it crew at my place of employ") are fixing or un-fixing something in the room above my office. Whatever the hell they're doing goes "whirrrrrrrrrrr!" for about 10 seconds, followed by strange porpoise-like clicking sounds. There is silence for a few seconds, then someone starts thwacking something made of metal with a hammer. This scenario repeats for three hours.
2. You know the sound that comes from your car's dashboard when you use the turn signal? The tick ... tick ... tick? My car does that all the time now -- just much faster: ticktickticktickticktickticktick -- without any regard for whether the turn signal is actually in use. I'm not taking it to the mechanic because I am not going to pay some forked-tongued Cleveland greasemonkey (I have yet to find a single mechanic in this city who wasn't spawned in Satan's bowels) $200 just for taking a peek inside the dashboard. Instead, I will tickticktickticktick away the three-hour drive to my parents' house and look pathetic until my dad goes out to the garage and makes it all better.
3. I understand the need to keep a clean house, and I also understand that some people clean more than I do, but I do not understand why my upstairs neighbors have to vacuum their living room 6 times a week. I have never seen their vacuum, but by its astonishing volume, I have deduced that it was manufactured during the Truman administration and only works properly when it is 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday or during the last 15 minutes of Law and Order.
posted by Kate at 1:01 PM link/comments
I seem to recall, Nat, you mentioning a temperature of -40 in Winnipeg just a few weeks ago. At least in Cleveland, Wally's urine won't freeze mid-stream.
I should have explained when I posted that picture of my head that the MRI was for the TMJ stuff. My doctor wanted to know whether my jaw was a no good sonofabitch that needed to be sliced up with a big knife. It turns out that my jaw isn't running around robbing old ladies or shooting smack, but it is starting to experiment with pot and skip school, and the other day it asked my septum if it had ever tried acid, so we have to keep it in check by me wearing a brace in my mouth at night for 4-6 weeks to teach it a lesson. You know, lock it up at night so it doesn't wind up over at Kinsman and East 55th trying to score some rock.
posted by Kate at 12:38 PM link/comments
OK, I step away for a while and kate goes and gets her head checked (incidentaly I almost lost my shit when I had an MRI as well, and I don't realy have any predisposition twords clostraphobia). Um . . . why?
Also, Kate I am not sure that you are tempting me home with you lovely discription of the greyness of the cleveland winter, I had almost forgotten. Ah well.
posted by Nat at 11:57 AM link/comments
Sunday, February 15, 2004
dude, if my credit rating is going to be considered before i can get a date, i am screwed! what is this world coming too!!!
oh, kate, i am glad to hear that you hve those shoe thingies.... as someone who falls her own fair share... i am envious of your now mountain goat footed'ness...
and marc.... excellent joke... you should post more often!
posted by Becky at 2:12 PM link/comments
Friday, February 13, 2004
Attention...for all your bumper sticker need go here. Katy, at least he didn't ask for a copy of her credit report; I mean it could be worse, just not by much! I heard for the first time a good joke at work yesterday and the funny thing is that it came from one of my customers that has said all of 4 words in the last 3 years, here it is: What do you call a milkman wearing high heels? A Dairy Queen.
posted by Marc at 4:48 PM link/comments
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Overheard in the convenience store this morning:
Customer (to cashier): So, how old are you?
Cashier: Twenty-four.
Customer: You got good credit?
Cashier: How come every time a man's hittin' on a woman he gotta ask her do you have good credit?
Customer: Cause if I hook up with you and you got bad credit, you be ruinin' my credit.
I know I'm married and oblivious to the wacky world of dating, but when did credit become criterea for courtship? Christ, it's bad enough you have to have a 750 FICO score to get a good mortgage rate; now you need one to get a boyfriend, too.
posted by Kate at 4:10 PM link/comments
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
I got these hickey-ma-whatsits for Christmas. They’re made of really flexible rubber and stretch over your shoes. I first saw them while flipping past one of the home shopping networks. I know it does not bode well for my reputation to admit that I have spent precious moments of my life watching QVC, but just go ahead and tell me that if you saw – just for an instant – a man doing a little softshoe routine atop a three-foot-square block of ice, it would not give you pause. Yeah. That’s what I thought.
Anyway, on the bottom are little metal spiky things, kind of like those found on golf cleats. The deal is, you put them on your shoes and when you go outside to the car in the morning, the bits claw into the 3 inches of solid ice atop your driveway so you don’t slide madly and crack your head on the garage door the way you did last year. You can also, apparently, do a remarkably accurate Gene Kelly impression whilst ice fishing. So there’s that.
I have needed these things for a long time. Ever since that time in first grade when I broke my arm by falling on the ice in the Giant Eagle parking lot (I was pretending to ice skate while wearing duck shoes), I cannot seem to keep my footing on any slick surface. The whole experience was traumatic because, in addition to having to wear a cast for 2 months, I had to endure endless taunting and teasing from my peers, teasing that was actively sanctioned by the sadistic nun who was our teacher*.
Ever since then, ice and snow have caused me injury at least once for every subsequent year. There have been countless instances of me slipping and falling, one of the most memorable being the time I lost footing on some outdoor stairs in college and fell directly on my tailbone, which necessitated a trip to the ER, a prescription for Darvoset (great idea, medical personnel! give THAT to a college student!), and one of those inflatable butt donut things. The doctor’s advice was to sit it “whenever you’re in class.” Like hell. I was not about to show up to my English classes with an apparatus that doubles as relief treatment for hemorrhoid patients.
Bottom Line: These things rock. I can do great Baryshnikov leaps across miles of black ice and land upright. I can actively TRY to fall in the driveway, to no avail. There is great comfort and confidence that comes with knowing you're not constantly on the verge of falling on your ass.
* Sister Mary Ninja, named for her unique ability to hurl ballpoint pens at our heads with deadly, frightening accuracy whenever we committed some classroom infraction. Don’t try to tell me Catholic education isn’t capable of inflicting emotional scars.
posted by Kate at 10:06 PM link/comments
Friday, February 06, 2004
This is the view out my office window. All is gray. Cleveland is gray. The ground is gray, the sky is gray, the buildings are gray, the cars are gray with road salt, the people are gray from sunshine deficiency. If it weren't so dreary, it would almost be remarkable that all this gray could exist in one place at once.
posted by Kate at 4:31 PM link/comments
Thursday, February 05, 2004
I want you to know that this is how my husband -- who is incapable of sitting still for more than 5 consecutive seconds -- watches television. I'm terrified of what will happen when we have children. If they take after Marc, I'll spend at least 20 years of my life trying to see through a bunch of skinny, nervous people gathered in a semi-circle around the entertainment center.
posted by Kate at 11:18 PM link/comments
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
Wide-open MRI? I was not given such a choice. I was utterly pathetic. Inside that sterile white coffin they call an imaging machine, I went into panic breakdown mode and had to squeeze the little "holy-jesus-i'm-freaking-out-in-here" sensor they gave me. The claustrophobia was only compounded by the fact that they had locked some weird cage-looking thing around my head and shoulders so I was incapable of moving. The whole experience amounted to 45 minutes of lying there, eyes squeezed tight, trying to think of anything besides the flaming realization that I was incapacitated inside a small, scary, loud cavity, and the radiologist was obviously going to wander off in search of coffee and forget all about me -- or worse -- armed men were going to storm the medical center and systematically whack every employee, and the cops wouldn't find me until days later, by which time I would have died from thirst or a massive fear-induced brain aneurism.
Turns out it's genetic. My mother informed me yesterday that the first time she had an MRI, she started screaming, "LET ME OUT OF HERE!" and the radiology people had to summon the ER attending because her blood pressure shot higher than Peter B. Lewis with a pound of Maui Wowie.
I'm telling you right now: If I ever in my life have to have another MRI, I will not set foot in any facility that has a machine smaller than Shea Stadium. No chance in hell.
posted by Kate at 12:09 PM link/comments
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
Kate, as always, I love surfing over to the blog and laughing a hearty laugh... I am personally very facinated by the whole superbowl breast debacle, mainly because my senses have been inundated since monday am w/ this phenomena, and I didn't even watch the superbowl!
As for the MRI, did your doctor not offer the choice of a "wide-open MRI"? I can't imagine that Cleveland, w/ the clinic and UH doesn't have one at it's disposal, hell po'dunk toledo hospitals have one w/in each health system, and an independant company w/ one! What is the orientation of the film you posted? The nerd in me definately agrees that posting the film is fun though!
and just as a p.s. I would TOTALLY vote for Sam Eagle as a running mate, he would definately get the job done w/ minimal screwing off!
posted by Becky at 9:26 PM link/comments
You know what's not fun for a claustrophobic? Getting an MRI.
You know what is fun? Putting one of your MRI films on your weblog. In the original, you can totally see my brain, but the scan didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped. Trust me, though. It's there.
Ladies and gentlemen, the inside of my head:
posted by Kate at 11:25 AM link/comments
Monday, February 02, 2004
Super Bowl Highlights:
Personal Consumption Statistics:
Number of croissant-wrapped cocktail weiners: 9;
Ounces of velveeta/sausage/greenchile/tomato dip: 5;
Ounces of sourcream/creamcheese/cheddar/tomato taco dip: 3;
Number of soft-diet-prohibited tortilla chips: like, half a bag;
Pieces of sauerkraut-soaked kilebasa: 3;
Number of fresh vegetables from veggie tray: Utterly ignored;
Pieces of chocolate cheesecake: 1;
Number of antacids since 8 a.m. today: 7.
Other:
Number of Americans who, in unison, said, "Dude, was that just Janet Jackson's boob?": approximately 130 million, including 5 in my living room.
Which reminds me:
So let me get this straight. Half of America is losing its shit because Janet's augmented breast appeared on air for about 2 seconds. Her nipple was COVERED by a shiny pasty-type-thing. So someone please explain to me how that was any different than Li'l Kim's outfit at the Grammys a few years ago. Or Gwyneth's icky gothic number.
It was a BREAST. No one was publicly disembowled, and it's not like Timberlake was waving his dick at the jumbotron camera. Will everyone please relax?
posted by Kate at 12:40 PM link/comments
