Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting the newlyweds, Holly and Aamir Deen ...
Lovely wedding. Hugs and kisses to the now-honeymooning couple.
More (lots more) pictures later. It's been one helluva summer.
posted by Kate at 11:58 PM link/comments
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Here is a picture of my dad standing betwixt a cement mixer and Charley the Tuna.
That is all.
UPDATE:
My friend Brez, who survived the St. Crackpipe Catholic High School experience along with me, just sent me this email, and it was too good not to share. Editor's Note: Merrill = my dad.
Dear Kate,
I looked at your blog today and big photo with your dad sent me into wisecrack overload.
I've been sitting here shaking, blurting out rude comments to nobody in particular:
1.) Damn tuna papparazzi should just leave poor Charlie alone. YES, he's a public figure -- but this is stalking!
2.) After a few decades and some serious problems, the surviving Village People put aside their differences for a reunion concert at Pittsburgh's ball field.
3.) From left to right, this looks like a very strange natural history museum chart about evolution.
4.) Charlie's face registers his sudden, unrelenting terror: The two guys from the Big Sandwich Society have lured him here under false pretenses -- and inside that cement mixer is a ton of mayonnaise and relish!
5.) The guy on the left is thinking: "Just a little bit lower, Charlie, and I've got you on film -- nailed for sexual harassment!"
6.) Hey kids, look! It's the worst birthday-party entertainment in history!
7.) Merrill forgot to wear a hat, and thus is ostracized by the others for being "different."
8.) The cracked-out Teletubbies say: Time for tubby custard!
9.) This is the reason three-way, interspecies gay marriage scares so many Americans.
10.) The Anti-Abortion Caviar Crusade has a small, but loyal following.
11.) "So ma'am, you're still not sure any of these suspects are the man who stole your purse? ... You say he had a distinctive odor? ... Why don't you try giving each one a whiff ... Okay ... What do you mean you STILL can't tell the difference?"
Stop me!!!!
posted by Kate at 9:38 AM link/comments
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
It's an awfully good feeling when you turn in your resignation letter and the reaction to said letter is a collective, horrified, blood-curdling scream. Right now there is a veritable herd of academics looking very confused and stammering, But ... you can't ... what the hell are we supposed to do NOW?
It's a powerful feeling, watching this panic, and one that does my ego good.
A rational human being would have a good long soak in this feeling, then get the hell out of the tub. A rational human being would concentrate fully on their new job and give little thought to the duties they've left behind.
However, as we all know, I am not a rational human being. Where once stood a semi-bumbling slacker with no regard for credit rating or the vagaries of real estate now stands a married, homebuying-obsessed lunatic, a woman who looks at her husband and says things like, how the fuck are we ever going to afford to have a kid if you insist upon drinking beer?, a woman who would kick small children, in front of their own mothers, if someone offered her a large sum of money to do so.
It was this woman who was in a meeting yesterday with a Head IT Guy, who basically looked at the woman and said, Listen, lady, we're sort of screwed here. Would you consider continuing to do some of your current duties after you quit, on a contract basis? And before he even finished his sentence, that woman pumped her fist in the air and screamed, Hell yes! I will do anything short of active prostitution for extra cash! Sign me up!
So, at this point, based on the list of "freelance" things I'm going to continue to do while working a 40-hour week at another place of business, I think I might have just agreed to keep my current job while simultaneously quitting it, and by the time they find a replacement for me, which will no doubt take months, I will be a blubbering heap of goo with no social life and nothing but a pair of eerie, too-much-computer-screen glowing eyeballs attached to remind my loved ones that I was, at one point, a real human being.
But ... it'll be worth it, right? When we buy the house? Right?
posted by Kate at 11:30 AM link/comments
Monday, August 09, 2004
The other day I bought a white, padded bra and felt a certain measure of guilt while the lady at Penney's was ringing me up. I haven't owned a padded bra since high school, and the only reason I owned one then was because it was high school, and I was ashamed of my b-cup, and I thought maybe the extra cotton might make me look a bit more curvaceous in my oxford shirt/polyester skirt Catholic school girl getup. Then I went to college, and at some point in there my chest swelled to a healthy 'C' level, and ever since then, it's been nothing but comfy cotton and satin bras made by Warner's, because dammit, a c-cup is ample boobage.
But then a couple of weeks ago, I got two new shirts, one of which was white, and the other of which was constructed of some sort of gauzy/clingy material. One day I wore the white shirt to work having gotten dressed in the dark, not wanting to wake my unemployed *, sleeping husband. Under the harsh fluorescent light of the ladies' room at work, I realized that blue Warner's bra + white cotton shirt = BAD IDEA, and I spent the rest of the day folding my arms across my chest whilst in the company of other humans in a valiant attempt to silence the "Hey! Look! Kate's wearing a BLUE BRA under that white shirt!" effect I'd created. The next day I wore the gauzy shirt, and the ladies' bathroom mirror once again revealed too much, except in a different way, and I really don't need anyone I work with to have intimate knowledge of my areola.
Hence the padded white bra, which solves the problem on both fronts. I'm wearing it today, and despite my initial wariness about wearing a device that might draw attention to the girls, I'm really digging it. The enhanced shape is a definite perk, but the padding, despite adding a good quarter-inch, is providing this very strange sense of security. I feel very protected in my white padded bra, completely safe against would-be breast attackers. I feel so good that I'm convinced we could solve this whole terrorist threat by covering the country in a giant padded titsling. Get me Tom Ridge! I have all the answers under my shirt.
Oh, yeah, and by the way, folks, I quit my job. Or, at least, I put in notice. Staring August 30, I'm going to work for The Man, which officially makes me a sellout, but The Man wants to give me more money, and money is something I need if we're ever going to realize this dream of becoming homeowners and stepping boldly into the the Middle Class. What the hell happened to me?
*The Unemployed Husband has somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 job interviews in the next two weeks. If you have any to spare, please send good vibes in our general direction.
posted by Kate at 10:10 AM link/comments