Tremendous Blondette

There is a time honored tradition that comes around only once a year. It’s called “blowing shit up.” This is how men, young and old, celebrate our nation’s independence. What better way to say, “Go America!” than by making things explode. Let’s scare small animals! Let’s baffle the women-folk! You may lose a finger, but DAMN! DID YOU SEE THAT?!

Now, most of these items are illegal in city limits around the KC Metro area, but does that stop folks?! Of course not! You can’t see a law so maybe it’s not real. And, if God didn’t want them to blow shit up, he wouldn’t have places outside city limits where it’s legal to sell the necessary items.

I don’t like blowing things up, but if I had to participate, here’s what I’d blow up:

• Flarp
• A knitting project gone bad (via Tammi)
• A cake
• A jug of bubbles
• Paper Mache

Laundry- folding it, putting it away, blah

cleaning the litter box- uh, eww

anything related to cleaning floors

yes, that includes vacuuming- i kill vacuum cleaners and hate the loud noise

cleaning the shower

liquid eyeliner

I’ve been doing a lot of driving between Kansas City and Springfield lately in preparation for my brother’s wedding. This evening as I was making excellent time (do you like how I threw that in there?), I found myself thinking about all of the people that connect my brother, my future sister-in-law, and me together. AND how the people who connect us, also connect to others in our lives.

The circle of people with whom you are connected and don’t know. I think of all the people I’ve met though my friends. People I’ve talked to for one night, or people who in turn became my friend. It reminds me a bit of the levels of connection on LinkedIn.com. You are connected to someone in the 3rd degree through your boss or through a vendor. They can introduce you and you can either become connected, or you can remain peripheral.

I am still in awe of the fact that there exist other people with whom I may never be acquainted.

During the drive  home tonight, there was a guy behind me in a Jeep. He had Nebraska plates, sunglasses with silver stems, and he was on the phone. Like me, he was driving down the same stretch of highway, on his way somewhere. Maybe a wife was waiting. He’s lived, breathed, acted, made mistakes, cried, loved, worked- he’s just like me. A person living life. It really gives me pause when I think about all of the people I see in a day and never meet. They are all people with stories. Who knows what we have in common, or not. How small we are. I know them as Red Car, Stupid Van, Jeep, Scion (tC!)- but all are driven by people. And at that moment in time, we were all heading the same way, our stories converging, but not meeting.

We all have alter egos. Last Thursday I called mine Cupcake. Here’s the backstory.

Every quarter my company hosts an outing for the employees. It’s a nice way to get everyone out, moving, thinking, interacting, and destressed for an afternoon. One department takes the hosting and planning reigns. This quarter, for the first time ever, my department (yep, I have one) was given the hosting honor. Past outings have been to the Royals Home Opener, Powerplay KC, a KC Amazing Race (note to self: never wear cowboy boots on the day of an outing again), and a KC area scavenger hunt.

I am now completely convinced of 2 things:  my department can make some cash on the side by opening a costume shop and we totally have the Halloween costume competition in the bag. Planning was fun and the ladies in my department totally took the initiative to get everything done, leaving me to “supervise.”

Thus on Thursday, June 25th, we presented “Company X’s* Got Talent.” The ladies headed over to our venue early, leaving me to corral the troops. After two all pages on the intercom, I headed to the main conference room where I proceeded to stand on the conference room table and give direction. Once everyone was informed of the plan and numbered off, I lead them like little ducklings to the scene of our talent show. Let me just say, I was impressed with the creativity that came out of my fellow coworkers.

We rewarded them with an afternoon of beverages and appetizers at the Marquee downtown. Oh yeah, and the winners got tickets to AMC.

My role in the event was that of hostess, whereby I dubbed myself Cupcake. I was the unifying voice (ha!) My job was to be loud and funny.

Here’s where this gets to be something I’d actually write about on my personal blog. I’m not an extrovert. I’m a performer. They are not the same thing. I still need down time, chill time, me time. I process everything at a highly internal level. I am more likely to turn inward and analyze and process than to express and seek outside contact. I still love being with just one or two people at a time. But, I got up in front of 40 people and stood on a table. I got up in front of 40 people and cracked jokes. I got up in front of 40 people and handed out awards. I worked the tables. Sober.

And the week before, I was at a conference for 4 days where all I did was talk to people. Me.

Of course, I left the outing around 5:30 (this is also when Michael Jackson died) and fell asleep by 7:30pm. Thus proving that it takes a lot of energy for me to be so outgoing and engaging.

Anyway, I’m proud of myself and I’m not ashamed to say it. Where I am now, who I am now sort of blows my mind some days. I never thought I’d be here. And that gives me hope for all of the dreams that are yet unaccomplished.

Your Hostess, Cupcake with the judges.

*you don’t need to know where I work

I got my blue eyes and cleft chin from my dad. Things haven’t always been good between us, but I love him more than he probably realizes because I’m terrible at showing it (and telling it).

So today, Father’s Day, I share some of my favorite memories of my dad.

Tickle Monster- Our couch was basically brown with cream, orange, and more brown and to this day I still am unsure of the composition of the coffee table. Dad sat on the end of the couch, waiting to catch and tickle us as we ran around the table.  At 28, I am trying to call on the five year old I was then. She remembers what she can and that is enough. Laughter, fun, and Daddy.

Fishing-These days 5am is not an uncommon time to wake, but when you’re just a little girl, 5am is like a different world. Up early, Dad packed me in the truck (I am guessing truck because that’s what he drove- it was a yellow Toyota) with my Barbies and we headed to the river to do some fishing. I think I remember the drive- sunshine and old country music, but that could have been a different drive. We met one of my dad’s friends and his little girl and settled on the shady river bank- the girls on some sort of ground covering with their dollies, and the men with their fishing poles. I think they set up poles for us because I remember catching a fish- either that, or Dad let me hold his fishing pole. Dad liked to fish. There are a few pictures in our family album of fish freshly caught and ready to be made into dinner. Maybe they were our fish.

Chiclets and Army Recruiting- My brother was active in Cub Scouts when we lived in Oregon and my mom was his den mother (I recall some Red Light, Green Light and Red Rover under our carport- oh, and pudding pops.) One particular day, they had an activity to attend which resulted in me going to work with my dad. I won’t lie, it was dreadfully boring for a little girl to sit in an Army recruiting office. That is the first time I remember seeing Chiclets (they had a machine), pink, green, small, and sweet! I was jealous of my brother at the time because he came home with a wooden badge, but I got to spend the day at the office with Dad.

Katie and Dad at Oma's for Christmas

5,7,5. Nope, not a clothing store for skinny people. (that was 5,7,9)

As an English major I was expected to be well versed in meter,measure and the art of the syllable. It is with wholehearted something that I tell you how much I sucked at that portion of my studies. I’ve always been able to read and phrase well, but there was something about the counting and diagramming that just didn’t click for me. Maybe it was ambivalence.

My story begins at the Caddy Shack, a local lovable dive bar less than half a mile from my office. On this particular evening, I believe it was a going away party or an outing, or just a Friday night that had many folks out …after most went home, the core remained. We drank, we laughed, we texted. Oh my. Have you seen “texts from last night?” Well, I don’t know if our haiku laden texts would rate, but we were pretty creative.

Here’s where things are a little fuzzy: I believe the haiku started with a request from The Todd to Tammi. After that, all messages and a lot of the convsation was in haiku. We had teamwork! Bonding! Comraderie!

It stuck with us and we continued to email in haiku the next day. It still makes me warm and laughy which is why this is a favorite memory. Not everyone would sit around and enjoy creating haiku with a group!

Memories are a bit like tye-dye. They’re super colorful, slotchy, and overall make you feel a little funny when you look at them.

This morning as I was updating my status on Facebook, I was suddenly aware of the syllables in the phrase I was using. “Whoa! syallables? I should make this status update a haiku!”

To some haiku means nothing, to me, it’s a memory. A favorite memory in fact. And thus here we are with me introducing a brand new “category” or “column” on my blog; “Favorite Memories.” (Other columns include:  You Might be Katie Leas if and Life Lessons)

So, what makes something  a favorite memory? I challenge you to think about the memories that fill you with warmth, hope, faith, love, wist, wile, and laughter. I’ve decided I’m going to write mine down and share them here, with you.

1. Wednesday night is suddenly almost over.
2. Jay Leno has ended his tenure as steward of the prime late night talk show spot opposite David Letterman.
3. Twelve hour work days somehow seem longer than they used to. As do 14,15, and 16 hour work days.
4. You drank chocolate soy milk for dinner because you ate too may soy crisps and jordan almonds this afternoon.
5. It’s headache season (have I ever mentioned that I get seasonal headaches? It’s true; I’m much more prone to headaches in late fall and through autumn. Something about the atmosphere and my head- and then they drag my stomach into the game.)
6. You’re gearing up for a long, quick two months.
7. You say “gee willikers”
8. You’re getting anxious about home buying, not because you don’t think you can handle it, but because you are afraid you won’t find the right house.
9. You’re stopping at 9 because you’re tired because of #5 + #3 + #1.

…and not get caught (unless you want to.)

It’s quite simple if you want to fart in public and not get caught. Yes, these methods have been tested. In order to fart in public, and not get caught (and I’m talking really breaking wind here- rippin one, an SBD, crop dusting, etc) you must simply create diversions of sound, movement, humor, deflection, or another odor.

Here’s how it’s done:

Sound

1. drop something- a book, a passel of CDs, something that makes a loud bang, thud, or shattering noise.
2. wear loud shoes (easier for women wearing high heels)- no one will hear your fart if you wear loud click-clacky shoes! just make sure you are actually making them go click-clack when you go thrump-poot.
3. start talking loudly- you might catch someone off guard, or even out-right scare them, but they’ll be in so much shock from your scaring the crap out of them (good opportunity for them to get a fart in too- it’s a fart party!) that they won’t register any sort of disturbance in the force

Movement

1. Quickly evacuate the scene. “Haul ass” if you will.
2. The popular “crop dusting” technique would fit under this category as well- this is where you disperse a series of lower level, smaller “mini-farts” while walking.
3. Stroll off non-nonchalantly.
4. Become very interested in something just over yonder.

Humor

1. Own your fart. Laugh it off.
2. Make it into a public joke. (or a private one) Ever heard of “pull my finger?”

Deflection,

or “it was the dog.”

Okay, you can totally blame that stinker on the dog, if you’re near one, but if you’re out and about living your life and freeing your intestines of the oppression they suffer at the hand of your bean burrito, stand next to:

1. an old person- Sorry, but who’s the more likely candidate?
2. a teenage boy- again, sorry, but who’s the more likely candidate?

Another Odor

Either time the release when you are in a highly oderiffic area, or bring the odor to area.

1. gas pump- ha, yes, you too are a “gas pump” of sorts, but hey, if you’re out there, you may has well let it rip because the air is already so full of the smell of gas, what’s a little more?
2. fish counter- nothing competes with that horrid smell; I guess the fish has gone bad…
3. perfume spray- maybe you’ll make people sneeze which totally means they won’t smell your stink bomb
4. lotion smelling- HERE SMELL THIS! (heh heh)
5. flowers- mmm, take a big whiff! don’t these smell great?!

So, there you go. Those are some basic methods for farting in public. And as an added bonus, here’s a little ammunition to fuel the testing:

Things that make you fart:

1. Beans
2. Cauliflower
3. Carbonated Beverages
4. Dairy (in some people)
5. Beer
6. Artificial sugars/sweeteners
7. Broccoli
8. Apples

And how about some other causes of flatulance for good measure?

Toot-a-loo!