Vegkat's confessions

Hey, y'all!

2011-01-07T08:51:00.003-06:00

Obviously, I have pretty much abandoned this poor blog. Sorry, baby! With the fam and the stuff and the things, it's difficult to keep up with everything. Good news, though! There is somewhere you can still cyber-stalk me if you so desire. Just head over to my blog on Tumblr. If you aren't familiar with Tumblr, come check it out. It's super fun. For reals, yo. Short entries, which means more posts and more free time. Well, more free time to stalk other people on Tumblr. Seriously, I don't own stock in it or anything.

But seriously, head on over. We'll have lots of fun!

You almost have to chew it.

2010-09-12T20:31:00.002-05:00

Why, yes. Yes, I do enjoy flavor. And no. No, I do not give a rat's ass about calories.

I turn 30 in 3.5 hours, so I'm enjoying a beer. Nay, the best beer in the world. WHAT.

A question for those who get massages...

2010-09-09T10:35:00.005-05:00

I know... I haven't been around much. This summer went by so fast! I spent most of it hanging with the kids, because my oldest (my daughter, who is now 4!) just started pre-school yesterday and I wanted to spend every available second with her, and my little guy, too. :-) Plus, who wants to sit in front of a computer when its 90 degrees out and there's a swing set and a kiddie pool in the backyard?

I will have more time in the coming months to keep this lil' ol' blog updated, but for now I just have a quick question for anyone who cares to comment. My birthday is coming up on Monday, and I'm turing 30!!! I'm actually kind of excited, and don't really have too much anxiety about leaving my 20s behind. Not too much, anyway. I'm totally going to rock 30. My hubby is taking the day off and got me a gift certificate for a full body massage! Woo hoo! I've only had one massage in my life, and it was akward and wierd, so I'm pretty much starting from scratch. I have one big question... do you strip down to your birthday suit or leave anything on? I don't want this to cause more stress than it is meant to relieve! So what is it, people? Naked or not?

Oops! Edited to add: And would a novice massage-getter be better off with a Swedish massage or a deep-tisssue? Pros and cons of each? Thanks for any advice!! :-)

Could I be... growing... as a person?

2010-04-19T12:09:00.023-05:00

I've found myself quite boy-crazy as of late. Not that this is anything new. I've pretty much been boy crazy since 3rd grade. But what is new is the type of boys I find myself crazy for. Now let's get one thing straight. I am happily married to the most perfect man in all the world. These are celebrity crushes only, because frankly, I'm a spaz. I find most people repulsive in real life, and have very few, if any "real guy" crushes. And if I meet someone who seems to be "putting out the vibe" I freak out and run away. I'm lucky I met the hubby when I did, because otherwise I'd be a single gal in my single gal apartment, crocheting and watching "Tim and Eric Awesome Show: Great Job!" with my cats, wondering why I can't meet anyone who gets me.

...

It was the late 1980s, and I had a deep, dark secret. All the girls in my class were gushing over guys like Kirk Cameron or Scott Baio or Tom Cruise. Gross. My crush was on a man from a show that was over 20 years old and being shown on Nick at Night. You know, stuff old people watched.

I've written about my crush on Mike Nesmith before, so I'm not going to go too in-depth here. Needless to say he's delicious. His tall, dark and handsomeness (but not too handsome or cute - lookin' at you DAVY JONES) was ultra appealing to me, and the fact that he was kind of quiet and brooding and mysterious just made him even better. He wasn't the one the girls fainted in front of, and he wasn't a clown. He had dignity. He had class. And he had my heart. And since he was really the first guy to make me feel all funny and mushy in those oh-so-formative years, this "type" really stuck.

I wasn't SO counter-culture back then to not have had a few mainstream crushes. There were the Coreys (Feldman, mostly), River Pheonix, and Jonathan Knight. Well, Jonathan was sort of mainstream. Everyone else was oogling over Joey or Jordan, but I fell for the tall, shy, mysterious one. He didn't put himself out there like the others and that was compelling. Turns out it's because the screaming *girl* fans just didn't do it for him, but whatever. I still love you, Jonathan. You may have been my first gay-boy crush, but you weren't the last. It's not like I whip out a little note pad and check off qualifications before I decide if someone is cute, but I've come to realize if there are not at least 4 of the 5 following traits present, there is no attraction.

1. Tall (Benicio Del Toro. See also: 2)
..........

2. Dark (Jason Schwartzman. See also: 3, 4)
..........

3. Skinny
Adrien Brody (See also: 1, 2, 4)

..........

4. Big and/or crooked and/or bumpy noseDemetri Martin (See also: 1, 2, 3)

..........

5. Slight overbite

Jeff Goldblum (See also: 1, 2, 3, 4)

This is the basic template for any man I have found attractive for the last 20 years. It doesn't make me shallow, it's just how it is. My husband, Trent Reznor, Vince Vaughn, Penn Jillette, George Harrison, Dave Gahan, every member of Duran Duran... They have all been the same "type". Until recently. It started a few years ago when I was watching Peter Dinklage in The Station Agent and found myself thinking, "He is awesome. And kind of sexy, too. Wait, WHAT?!?" He sooo goes against my type! Then I just chalked it up to thinking he was sexy because he was just so awesome. I slowly had to admit, "No, I don't just want to hang out and play cards with this guy. I kinda wanna make out with him." And that seemed ok. It was ok to like a little person when any ogre over 6'3" could make me sweat. Right? You're damn right. You watch Living in Oblivion, then The Baxter, then The Station Agent, and see how you feel about him. Meow.

Around the same time, the hubby and I rented the first disc of "The Office: Series One" from Netflix. I was a naiive little girl who had never heard of the genius Ricky Gervais, and was about to have my world rocked. From the first episode I was hooked. Too bad there wasn't anyone sexy to look at. Martin Freeman is kinda cute, so I pretened I was Dawn. But every time Ricky came on the screen it was pure perfection. So what if I didn't find him attractive; I could still find him AMAZING. And the more I learned about him, the more I decided he was probably as close to the most perfect human being as one could get. Funny, brilliant, atheist, British with a dark sense of humor... Then I discovered he was in a NEW WAVE BAND?!? Again, I've already covered this, but it deserves to be said again. WATCH IT.

I seriously forget where I am when I watch that. *Sigh*

So... OK, where were we? Oh, yeah. He's awesome, but not attractive to me, blah blah blah. But he WAS attractive. Very, VERY attractive. Then I saw an ad for the Golden Globes that he was to host, and he was in a suit and a couple days' worth of stubble. Hmm... kinda cute... In fact, very cute. Fast forward to a few months later and he's all I can think about. He's the first against-type guy I've wanted to make out with, then marry and have babies with.

It has actually taken me a while to be comfortable with this. I've just been so used to being attracted to the kind of guys I've always been attracted to, that I couldn't even admit to myself I may be becoming more open minded. And I may have opened the flood gates. There are a whole bunch of people out there that are more attractive than the (long gone) 17 year old VegKat would ever admit.

There are the silver foxes:

(See also: really old guys)
..........

The obnoxious Type A personalities:(See also: silver foxes, tall, skinny, overbite)

..........

The really old guys:(See also: silver foxes)

..........

And the women:Ok, so maybe I'm not becoming more open minded, just turning into a horny old(ish) lady. But... I can actually tolerate The Smiths now, and actually have one of their songs on my iPod. So that shows growth, right? And I used to wish the White Stripes would be eaten by the Bermuda Triangle, and now I'm in love with them. Doesn't hurt that Jack White has like all of the 5 magic traits...

Taking the fun out of funeral.

2010-03-11T14:01:00.004-06:00

I had a pretty interesting and exhausting weekend. I had to travel back to the old homestead to attend a funeral. Boo, funerals. This one wasn't as trying as a normal funeral generally is, but it was still emotional, nonetheless. It was for my schizophrenic grandfather, a man I barely knew. As a child I would visit my grandparents' farm, and he was almost like an extra on the set of a movie. I honestly don't have any memory of any kind of interaction with him. Then when I was about 12, my Gramama left because she couldn't take it anymore. So in the last 17 years or so, the only time I saw him was at my great-grandma's funeral about 10 years ago. He didn't acknowledge me, and I wonder if he even knew who I was. I debated whether or not I should even mention anything in this blog about my weekend, because it was such a private, emotional time. And maybe someday I'll go into more detail about him and how he lived his life, completely detatched from reality. But for now I'll leave it at that, and just share a couple pics of the house he died in. This is not the farm from my childhood; he somehow aquired another farm and decided to live there, without electricity, plumbing or furnature. Sharing pics from the house my grandmother raised her family and where I spent so many formative years seems too personal right now.As you can see, he didn't live like anyone you probably know. Truth is, none of us knew him, either.

An open letter to Dunkin' Donuts

2010-02-18T12:30:00.001-06:00

Just submitted to DunkinDonuts.com. You are dead to me, Dunkin' Donuts.

"I recently signed up for your DD Perks program and was pleasantly surprised to recieve a coupon in the mail yesterday for a free cup of coffee. However, when I went to redeem it today, after barely a glance, the girl behind the window said they "don't take those." Since this is not the first time I have been disapointed in your service, I would like to be taken off your DD Perks list and would prefer not to recieve anything from you in the future. They probably wouldn't be accepted in my local store, anyway.

In the past, I have orderd coffee with sugar and upon tasting it several miles down the road realized it had been sweetened with artificial sweetener. I don't consume artificial sweeter because 1) it tastes horrible and 2) it makes me physically ill. I have also had coffee that tasted like the coffee maker hadn't been cleaned in months. I sometimes ask for blueberry flavoring, and have recieved everything from nothing, to caramel to flavors I couldn't even place. I have even been charged for large drinks and been handed smalls. I am actually embarassed I have continued to purchase your products for this long.

I realize it's only coffee, but it is your business, and customer satisfaction should be your most important concern. From now on, I will be getting my coffee from the locally owned shop down the road. They have never messed up an order, use more environmentally friendly products, and frankly have better coffee."

Water balloons and anarchy.

2010-02-13T14:47:00.003-06:00

I do apologize for being so crabby in the last post, so here's something to cheer everyone up. Here are my two favorite skits from one of my favorite shows, "The Whitest Kids U Know".

Water Balloons:

Anarchy:

Hee hee! Giggle giggle!

A feminist's Anti-Valentine's Day.

2010-02-13T13:17:00.005-06:00

I'm going to come off sounding very cynical, somewhat bitchy and a touch crabby here, so if you love Valentine's Day, you may want to skip this. Several years ago, the hubby and I agreed to never celebrate Valentine's Day. Now, ladies, don't sharply gasp and cover you mouths while feeling sorry for me. It was actually my idea. Yep, you heard me. The one day of the year where men are guilted into buying jewelry, flowers and chocolate for their loved ones, and there's nothing they can do about it, I choose to ignore. I'm not really a huge holiday celebrater, anyway. Many have religous overtones that obviously don't apply to me, or they are some sickly sweet made up day that is there to make us feel like shit if we don't get the latest ugly diamond creation from Kay Jewelers, or the most expensive bouquet of flowers from Teleflora.

I hate how around this time of year, there seems to be only one question people can think of. The talk shows are asking their guests, "What are your plans for Valentine's Day?" Or when you go shopping, the cashier says, "What are your plans for Valentine's Day?" It's everywhere you go. I tend to get really annoyed with it and work myself up into a tiny bit of a rage. But this year, I told myself I was just going to ignore it. I mean, really, it's only about 2 weeks of annoying commercials, right? I was doing pretty good at it, too, until I saw this commercial, then the rage came barging in, full force.

Pardon my language here, but seriously. What the fuck?!? So the only reason men are supposed to send their girls flowers is to compete with all the other losers in her office? Really? Not once was there even a hint of sappy, lovey dovey stuff like, "Send her flowers as beautiful as she is." Of course, I hate that sappy crap, too, but still. The only message here is, "Send her our flowers so you don't come off like a dick."

OK, so let's say you like that sappy stuff and are jonesing for some, REAL BAD. Here you go:

COME ON! It's almost like the ad execs just kept sending it back, saying, "No! We need MORE SAP! Seriously, turn it up a notch, then turn it up like eight hundred more notches." Really, Kay Jewelers. I don't even know where to begin on this ad. The way she jumps into his arms so he can save her from... what? Lightening? Not very feminist, lady. Unless she saw some bloody guy in a hockey mask climbing his way up to their little lodge, there was no reason for that. "Don't let go, ever." Blaaarrrrgggg.

Don't worry. I'm not raising my children to be scrooges like myself. I can dig making heart shaped cookies and decorating them with pink frosting and red sprinkles. Then eating them all in 2 days. Ahem... And honestly I am super excited about helping my kids make those shoe box Valentine mailboxes in grade school. I think holidays are cool for getting kids all cute and excited and letting them decorate and all that fun stuff. But as I've grown up, I've lost some of the excitement. Especially for Valentine's Day. And most adult men aren't that into it, either. When we are out with guy friends or the hubby's co-workers this time of year, that question always comes up. "What are your plans for Valentine's Day?" Mr. Veg will say, "Oh, we don't celebrate that." All the eyes in the room quickly dart over to me to catch my reaction, and I respond, "Yeah, we don't. It was actually my idea." Nearly every male face in the room is first hit with shock, like I had just smacked them across the face or something. Then I catch a glimmer of an expression I can only describe as, "Man... that's... awesome..." If they are there with their significant others, the "awesome" face immediately disappears so the "Oh, uh, that's weird and cool, I guess, but I like buying my wife crap" face can take it's place. But seriously, if the ladies aren't around, the dudes admit to not being fans of V-day.

I have mentioned before I used to sell fine jewelry. It used to be a department store called Famous Barr, but was bought out by Macy's after I left. Since most people have been to a Macy's or similar store, you know the kind of situation I am talking about. A jewelry counter with pieces more expensive than my car at the time, wrapped around the escalator and facing the men's Ralph Lauren department. I kind of had fun at that job at times, but mostly not. I hated that people wasted their money on sparkley little trinkets when I coudn't afford health insurance. But that's not the point I'm making here. V-day was a big holiday for us, because obviously we sold a lot of jewelry. I mean A LOT. And there were really only 2 kinds of customers for the 2-3 weeks leading up to V-day. The first kind were women who decided they would buy their own gifts because their husbands either didn't want to, or couldn't be trusted to pick out something good (i.e. expensive) enough. The other kind of customer were frenzied men who had no idea what to get their wives, but knew that if it sparkled it would be just fine. And saying the men were shopping 2-3 weeks before V-day is being a little kind. More like 2-3 days before. They would come in and say, "What's popular this year? Does it come with a bigger diamond? You can't go wrong with diamonds, right? She will have to like it, right? As long as it's shiny, right?" Honestly, this is how (most) men shop for women. They pretty much rush in last minute, then leave it up to the 22 year old girl behind the counter to pick something out for the wife. And obviously, I had never met the wives. So how the hell would I know what they wanted?

Maybe I'm just turning into a nasty, bitter old woman. But honestly, I have other interests and hobbies, and would actually be insulted if the hubby came home with a gold chain thinking that would make me happy. Luckily, I have an awesome husband. One year on my birthday, he sent me out of the house for the morning and told me he would give me a call when I could come home. When I did, I saw he had gotten me an aquarium, and he and one of his friends had set it up for me and gotten it running while I was out! Then he took me out to pick out some fish. EXACTLY what I wanted!! He had no experience (or interest, honestly) in fish, but knew that was what I wanted. And that set up wasn't cheap, either. But for some reason when I tell people about that gift, they act kind of weird about it. Like just yesterday I was getting my teeth cleaned and the hygenist and I were talking about the fish tank in the lobby. I said one year the hubby got me an aquarium for my birthday, and her response was, "Oh, men..." while she rolled her eyes. I didn't know what to say so "...Uh, that's uh... exactly what I had wanted..." stumbled out of my mouth. To assume a woman can only be happy with jewelry or something equally "feminine" is incredibly insulting.

So men, unless you ACTUALLY enjoy Valentine's Day and your lady ACTUALLY enjoys getting jewelry, don't stress so much about it. And ladies, think for a minute. Do you ACTUALLY enjoy getting jewelry, or have you just been told that's what you enjoy getting? Do you have any hobbies (fish keeping, knitting, woodworking, reading, etc.)? Wouldn't a fish tank be a wonderfully extravagant gift you would get some real enjoyment out of? Or some luxurious alpaca yarn and some hand carved wooden knitting needles? How about a first edition of a favorite book? See, the possibilities are endless, if you actually PAY ATTENTION to your mate and get something with meaning. Not some metal that's twisted into the shape(ish) of "embracing arms" to show her "love's embrace". How about actually embracing her and giving her something she really wants. That goes for you, too, ladies. If you do celebrate V-day, don't just expect him to shower you with gifts. Get him something super awesome, too!

Oh, and one more thing. I also think the feelings we're told to feel on Valentine's Day should be felt every single day. To save up all the sappy lovey doveyness for one day is... pretty stupid. Appreciate each other everyday, and maybe some dreary, rainy day in March you get her a bouquet of insanely bright, fragrant flowers to cheer her up. Just because. Or get him a DVD box set from his favorite director in the middle of January because you hear a snow storm is coming. Then hole up all weekend and cuddle while watching The Shining and A Clockwork Orange. OR---Do something really crazy and get him some cheery flowers or her a Stanley Kubric box set!

As for my plans for this Valentine's Day, I will be going to the grocery store with the kids, then finishing up laundry and maybe squeezing in a game or two of Candly Land.

Awww! Look what I got!

2010-01-13T11:46:00.011-06:00

I got a Happy 101 Award! Whoopie! Krista at Look Ma No Patterns! said some very, very kind things about me and my little contribution to the blog-o-sphere, and she totally made my day. Go check out her blog. For reals, yo. She kicks so much ass it's scary. Scaaaarrrryyy.

Now it's my turn. I share 10 awesome things that make me happy, then I'll share some blogs that make me happy. If I mention yours, you got the happy award and then it's your turn. Then you pick some blogs, and it's their turn, then their picks' turns, etc, etc, etc, on into infinity.

My Happy thing #1: My children and hubby (obviously). My hubby is the best because he works like 60 hours a week so I can stay home with the babies, and he still does the dishes and changes poopy diapers. My kids rock because they climb in a laundry basket in jammies with bandanas on their heads and pretend to be pirates. It's so cute I can almost forget about the sea of toys they are sailing in.

Happy thing #2: Our record collection. Most are the hubby's, but I have a bunch, too (I think we have 500 or so). I'm obsessed with New Wave music. I pretty much have every record by British white guys that came out between 1979 and 1986 (much to the chagrin of my husband, that also includes Def Leppard, even though that's not New Wave). Everyone from Duran Duran to Psychedelic Furs, Spandau Ballet to Gary Numan, it's there. I even have the first pressing of New Order's 12 inch single of "Blue Monday" from Factory Records. Jealous? I would be if I were you.

And remember these?

Happy thing #3: My king sized Tempurpedic foam mattress. Ahhhhh. Insomniacs don't generally look forward to bedtime, because that only leads to hours of laying in bed wishing for sleep. But at least those hours are comfortably spent.
Those are my two damn cats, Millie and Cassius, who get to spend ALL day lounging on my awesome bed. Notice Millie and how she snuggles down under the covers. Damn cat. And yes, she's named after the nerdy friend Millie on "Freaks and Geeks". Also notice how pissed off they look that I'm interupting their precious naps. Damn cats.

Happy thing #4: Dave Gahan's voice. And Dave Gahan's face. And Dave Gahan's tattoos.

Happy thing #5: Hanging laundry outside in the spring, before the humidity sets in and all the summer bugs come back.

Happy thing #6: Yarn and embroidery floss. So basically, strings. Lots and lots of strings.

Happy thing #7: Listening to music I rocked out to in high school, and thinking I'm cool for it. Whenever I have an errand to run without the kids strapped down in the back seat, or I'm going out with the girls, I crank that shit up and think people I pass think I'm cool. Who cares if nobody has listed to Primus, or Bush, or Underworld for over 10 years? I know everyone is jealous of me.

Happy thing #8: Locking the bathroom door and settling into a bathtub full of steaming water with a book and a glass of Dr. Pepper. Or wine. Currently it's The Hitchhicker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Happy thing #9: My glasses. I've worn glasses since I was 4 years old, and although most people say they hate wearing them, I love them. The hubby wears contacts most of the time and wants laser eye surgery, but I think he looks hot in his black plastic frames. I don't ever want the surgery, and I wore contacts for about a month 10 years ago. Not for me. I love shopping for them, I love having several pairs to choose from to fit my mood, and I like how I look in them. Of course, I don't remember NOT wearing glasses, so I think I look kind of funny without them. Like my face is naked and I should be charging people to look at it. My glasses are also the only thing in life I really splurge on. I figure they are the last thing I take off at night and the first thing I put on in the morning, and I wear then every single day of my life. Also, technically, they are fixing a handicap, so nothin' but the best, right?

Happy thing #10: My DVR and all the nerdy shows it's full of. We recently got DVR and it has changed my life. The only time I get to watch any TV is after the children are in bed, and the only thing on at that time that's worth watching is "Chelsea Lately" and "Good Eats". Unfortunately they are on at the same time, so they had to take turns. Now... I get to record everything I like and watch it whenever I want! YEAH! Our "to watch" list now contains Nova, Antiques Roadshow, Knit and Crochet Today, Mythbusters, and my new favorite show, Archer. Seriously, watch it. It's on FX sometime at night, cause it's not for little kiddos. Set your DVRs people! The only down side is that I spend WAAAAYYYY too much time in front of the TV. Well, I don't see that as a down side, but others would.

Now, as far as picking blogs that make me happy, I'm still fairly new-ish to the community, so I don't really read a ton. Plus being a full time mommy, I don't get tons of time to sit and read. Booo. :-( But here are a handful I do read, and really enjoy. Hopefully you will, too.

--->Hipstercrite

---> Failed Feminist

--->The Whore of all the Earth

--->Floresita/Things I've Made

--->Hollyrocks

--->Moxie and her Madness

--->Wonky Eye Day

New Year's resolution #1: Stop procrastinating!

2010-01-04T09:41:00.013-06:00

I meant to write and post this like 10 DAYS AGO, but obviously I have issues with getting around to things. I've been super busy with my new hobby, embroidery (go here to see what I mean), and I haven't had any free time for anything else. Oh, except for giving hugs and kisses to my hubby and babies. But I've finally gotten the chance to sit down and come up with a list of 5 resolutions I think I can stick to. I'm not a "resolution" kind of gal. Obviously everyone wants to be more organized, stop eating so much damn caramel corn, make friends with their a-hole neighbors, blah blah blah. But I know that's never going to happen with me, so I'm not even going to pretend to try. Oh, and my #1 isn't stop procrastinating. That's my thing. That's what I do. However, I will try to update this blog on a more regular basis. It's fun and let's me get some ideas out into the world without boring my poor hubby to death with my silly ideas. Plus, I think sometimes, possibly a few people like to read it. Maybe. And it's not fair to keep you hanging. So, I will try to maybe promise to write here a little more. How's that for an empty promise?

Resolution #1: Use more perverted double entendres. Think Samatha from "Sex and the City", or Blanche from "Golden Girls" (see below). I'm afraid of that "Mommy trap" where I fall in and by the time I crawl back out I'm shopping at Wal-Mart in my pajama pants and Tweety Bird sweatshirt with Chef Boyardee stains, buying my kids the newest Disney DVD and Hostess cupcakes, then drive home in my mini-van with a Tinkerbell decal on my back window to match the Tinkerbell licence plate holder. AAAGGGHHHHH!!!!! NOOOO!!!! I gots to keep my sass! So, when little ears are not in the near vicinity, more perverted double entendres. Yes. That will prevent the Chef Boyardee stains.

Resolution #2: Drink more tequila.

I met up with some old friends over Christmas, and it was awesome. We went to see Sherlock Holmes (meh, but Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law were delicious), then went to a Mexican restaurant at 3:00pm and split a pitcher of Margaritas. Then we all did a shot of tequila. Then another pitcher. Then more shots. It was awwwwesome. I don't want anyone to get the idea that I'm some sort of bad alcoholic mom. The hubby took the kids and they had a wonderful day of shopping with Gramma and Grampa. And I honestly don't drink that much. But when I do (and never, EVER around the kiddos), I like to drink. And drink... and drink. Now, if someone has an alcohol problem, obviously that's serious, but I think it's fun to drink once in a while, and it's refeshing when a celebrity admits to enjoying a drink (like Chelsea Handler. Awesome, awesome Chelsea Handler). My original resolution was "Only have one drink a week, but make sure it's big and stiff." (See resolution #1) But sometimes a girl wants a couple drinks, and no stupid resolution... that I made... is going to stop me.

Resolution #3: Watch more "Golden Girls". I picked up this dirty little habit while visiting my Gramma last month. Sure, it follows a very obvious "sit-com" formula, and it's insanely dated, but there is just something so clean and wholesome about it. And perverted. Dirty old ladies. I used to watch it with my Gramma when it was actually a new show. We'd eat dinner, clean up, and once it got dark, we'd get some cookies, snuggle up together in her big recliner and watch the girls. Obviously it wasn't a show that was very interesting for a young girl, but I loved spending time with my Gramma that way, and would always laugh when she would, even if I didn't get the joke. She's still super awesome, and the show always makes me think of her. That being said, I've always wished Betty White was my gramma, too. Not in place of my awesome granny, but in addition to. Wouldn't she just be the best? I thought if she and Bob Ross got together, I would always be at Gramma and Grampa's house. Then to balance out all that wholesome, cuddly goodness, I'd need a loud sassy gramma on the other side. Someone like... Joan Rivers. (No, I would not be Melissa Rivers' daughter. And yes, I'd have three grammas.) Of course there is no one who could be grampa on her side because she don't put up with no man. See, I could go visit my hippy painter Grampa Bob and we could create something happy and beautiful, then go see Gramma Betty in the kitchen and she'd have fresh baked cookies for us. She's say something like, "Oh, deary, that dress is just so darling on you. It really shows off your beautiful figure. But you look a little thin, you should have another cookie, honey pie." And I'd say, "OK!" After gorging on cookies, I'd head home, but stop at Gramma Joan's for a while. I'd come in and she'd say, "What are you wearing a dress like that for? You look like a hussie. And you might want to lay off the cookies for a while, darling." Then we'd talk about hot guys for a while. When I eventually make it home, my sexy neighbor, Alec Baldwin would be out getting his evening edition paper (because this also takes place in the '40s), and he'd call me over by my full name. "Kathryn, I have to say that dress is most becoming on you," he'd say in his gravely, manly voice. I'd blush, my shoulders would rise and I'd clasp my hands in front of me while digging in the dirt with the toe of my patent (fake) leather Mary Janes. I'd say, "I just got a new book from the library today." He'd say, "Well, I guess you'd better come over so I can read it to you, then."

Wait... What? Huh? Ooops, I guess I let my little day dream get out of hand. So... yeah. Watch more "Golden Girls."

Resolution #4: Break my goddamn dependancy on Chap-Stick. Seriously, I need to get off that stuff. And by Chap-Stick, I mean any lip balm. And if lip balm isn't around, I also mean Vaseline. Yes, I use it all the time as a balm. What? The main ingredient in Chap-Stick is petrolium, so don't act like I'm that weird. They guy who invented Vaseline wanted something to spread on his toast to keep him more "regular". Yeah, he used it as an edible, spreadable laxitive for his toast, so Vaseline lip balm isn't that crazy. Back off. I actually use natural products most of the time (Burt's Bees, natural yummy stuff I bought off of Etsy, etc.), but I seriously have a problem. At any given time, there are probably like 8 tubes of lip balm open in my house, and I always have one in my pocket. If my pants don't have pockets, it's in my hand. I get all panicky when there isn't one in my direct line of sight, and the second I feel like the waxy layer on my lips is getting a tad too thin, I gotta whip that shit out and lube up. Obviously one can't break a lip-balm addiction cold turkey (or cold Tofurky, if you will), so I've started trying to go longer and longer between re-applications. Some day I'll be able to run to the store without one on my person, but that's a big goal, and at this point I'm afraid I'd just buy a new tube (or 4) at the check-outs.

Resolution #5: Make more stuff! This year... wait LAST year, I think I found my artistic outlet in embroidery. I always fancied myself an artist, and desperately wanted to people to recognize me as such. In high school, my art class was full of slackers who just took the class because the naive teacher didn't realize said slackers would go behind the kiln and sell drugs. One other guy and myself were the only ones with any real talent. In my short-lived college career (Ok, Ok, I took one semester at a community college, but it still counts, so shut up) I was in the "artist" group and would have become a full-fleged art major had I not quickly grown tired of the school envioronment and realized it wasn't for me. In the years following, I would occasionally pick up my charcoals or my paintbrush, but it felt so forced. I never had any decent idea to get down on paper, and the few things I did do had been done to DEATH. Still life drawing of glass bottles. A painting of a flower. SNOOOZERS! My technique was good (I've always been good with my hands... heh heh), but my creativity was dying to break through. Last year it happened. I don't mention my craftiness much over here, because I have a whole blog devoted to that, remember? But in case you don't wanna check it out (why wouldn't you? It's awesome!), here's a sampling of what I've created: That says "Free thinker" in German and I'm gonna get that as a tattoo on my 30th birthday.
I guess I could have just summed up my resolutions into one: Be more awesome. And keep 'em guessing.

Forget Mrs. Brady, I want a Maude.

2009-12-07T12:00:00.007-06:00

No, not this Maude.

Maybe next time. It's so counter-culture it could almost be punk. Right? And girl, you rock that sweater vest! But I'm talking this Maude. As in Maude Lebowski.

I've wanted a sweet ass bob for AGES. Maude's here is a little poofy, but you get the idea. So I went in to my hair appointment with no clear idea of what I wanted, and my freaking awesome stylist Ashley and I had a chat. It came out that I loved the perfect bob, but had never had one. She said, you mean like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction? YES! Oh, my god, YES! She spent forever and a day cutting the most perfect precicion bob, but added some layering on top so if I don't have 2 hours to straighten it (ugh), it would look cool kind of messy, too.

TA-DA!!! I'm so freaking happy. Who knew I could be so vain and shallow?

And yes, I'm wearing the same Duran Duran t-shirt from the old, long-hair pic of me in the previous post. How embarassing...

I couldn't stop looking at myself in the rear-view mirror on my way home, and then I realized who I reminded myself of (in a totally AWESOME way). Please to enjoy, and watch for the gay man in the dominatrix drag. How delightfully perfect.

Mrs. Brady, where ARE you?!?

2009-12-01T12:16:00.011-06:00

I'm getting a haircut this weekend, and I've been wanting to do something different. I've had many awesome 'dos over the years. Here's me in Kindergarden, ca. 1985:Told you I was awesome. Apparently I had a thing for Danny Elfman. (That's what you call an Ogilvie home perm. Thanks, Mom.)
When I was in high school my hair was so long I could tuck it in my pants. Seriously. I was kind of a punk in high school, so I went throught a phase where my hair was bright blue. Then I colored it with red Kool-Aid (obviously before sugar is added). But I got pretty sick of just being known as "the chick with the long-ass hair". Not to be confused with "the chick with the long ass-hair". I kept it this rediculous length just long enough to get my senior pics taken. Then I went over to my best friend's house, and took care of it... I don't know what the kids these days are doing to be rebelious, but if you grew up in the '90s, remember that awful "style" where the top half of the head had normal hair, but if it was up in a ponytail, you could see the bottom half was shaved? Yeah, I did that. Actually my friend did it, and she was all too happy to do it, too. She was so sick of strangers coming up to me to comment on my hair, and frankly so was I. I wanted a 'do that said, "Fuck off." So she shaved my head from the nape of my neck to about the top of my ears. I kept the top waist-length for a while, and usually put it in tiny little braids. Like 50 of them. Ah, youth. I miss that style. I worked at Subway in a truck stop, and people didn't mess with me with that hair. It was awesome. Unfortunately I don't have any pics of this period. :-(

Then I grew up. Booooo. I could do that now, but I've mellowed. I don't get 30 year-olds (wait, I'm still 29) with lingering teenage angst. There is still plenty for me to rebel against (the goverment, the meat industry, religion, etc.), but I don't feel a punk-ass hair style will really accomplish much. Plus I don't want to scare the other mommies at the library story time.

About a year after my daughter was born, I hadn't had a hair-cut in like 3 years, and I looked like this:

I liked the way I looked, but that hair was soooo HOT. And not as in, Meow. As in, SOMEBODY TURN THE AIR CONDITIONER ON! I had grown my hair out a few times and cut it off to give to Locks of Love. If you have long hair and are thinking of cutting it, look into it. The make wigs for kids with conditions such as alopecia, and can't grow hair. So I knew I was ready to do it again, and I was ready to take it ALL off. So I scoured the world wide web for cute pics, and once I found this I knew I was ready to chop:

18 inches of hair were gone and I looked like this:

Not exactly the same, but it was close and I loved it. It was the shortest it had been since my Danny Elfman phase and I felt so free! But then I started seeing other girls and their cute ponytails, and felt kind of sad. But I know I looked awesome, so in my head I told those girls with pretty, feminine, flowing locks to suck it.

I've had some trims here and there since that first chop, but it's grown out to a very messy, unkempt shoulder-length bob with bangs. I haven't colored in in years, and years... and years. I think the last color I got was highlights for my wedding... almost 10 years ago. But think I'm going to hold of on any color till I start to grey. Or maybe I'll just rock the grey hair, too. I digress... I was watching "The Brady Bunch" with VegGirl a couple weeks ago, and it was a very early one. You know, before Peter became a delicious heart-throb, and was just a little cutie-pie. I think it was the second season. I noticed Carol had a super adorable little '60s not-quite-a-pixie, not-quite-a-shag 'do and I thought it was FREAKING AWESOME. I called the hubs in and said, "What do you think of that?!?" He smirked at me and said something about being married to Mrs. Brady. I told him if he weren't nice I'd give him a Mike Brady perm in his sleep.
But he actually agreed it was a cute hair do, and gave me the thumbs up. I think. I don't care. I've always wanted to be a member of the Brady Bunch, and if I stole her look, I could pretend I was Mrs. Brady and exchage thinly veiled inuendos with my husband before bed then totally make out with him while our 6 darling kids get into harmless mischief.

The only thing is, I can't find a good pic of the good hair anywhere. When you Google "Carol Brady" or "Florence Hederson" the only thing that comes up is this monstrosity:
Totally NOT what I'm going for. I'm looking for girly, polyester dress wearing young mom, before the bell bottoms and paisley devoured our poor Carol and refused to spit her out. I'm still debating whether to do this 'do now or wait for summer, but if you happen to run across any pics of the cute style I'm looking for, please send them my way. You know, while you randomly Google Brady Bunch images for your personal collection.

Doppel, doppel, doppelganger.

2009-11-18T08:18:00.001-06:00

Let's all calm down.

2009-11-13T12:19:00.011-06:00

A while ago, a comment was left on a post I had written months ago. I made a (admittedly bad... and grody) joke about men menstruating and probably needing to visit a proctologist. An annonymous person wrote: "i just got the sense that the comment was made with transphobic sentiment, and saw it as an opportunity for a teachable moment", mentioning how some men are born with female genetalia and don't have the means to change that. I promptly appologized and stated I had no intention of being transphobic. But I would like to elaborate...

I am, in no way whatsoever racist, homophobic, transphobic, sexist or any other kind of -ist or -phobic. When it comes to people, that is. And only when it comes to how a person is born, and it's something they can't change. I'm a white, straight female. But I'm not racist. My first BFF ever was actually the only black girl in my school system. And I think people's sex lives and personal relationships are their own business. I've actually had the occasional girl-crush. Who hasn't? But if I meet a Latina who's a total bitch, yeah, I'm probably not going to be her best friend. And if a gay cellist calls my husband and me an "ugly couple who are meant for each other", I'm probably going to want to punch that fat queen in the face. And we're not ugly, by the way. But if the white, straight female who lives next door lets her dogs bark all day, I'm going to think she's a total hag, too.

I don't know any transexuals, so it's not something that I think of very often. Hower, I do know they exist and thing they have every right to be happy and treated right as anyone else. I'm empathetic to their situation, and can't imagine the pain one woule have to go through to live every day feeling that uncomfortable with their own body and identity. Hell, I sometimes have issues with my own body. Overall, though, I love my body and am comfortable in my own skin. And I'm very thankful for that. I've learned to love my "child-bearing hips" which I was told I had in SEVETH GRADE by my best friend's dad. (Ewww.) And I love my "David Bowie" teeth (pre-veneers), and wouldn't think of getting them "fixed". But I don't know what I would do if I had a penis, but was still the same person inside. It's a sensitive issue, and I'm sure difficult to deal with.

Now, here comes the part where I may come off like a bitch. When one is part of such a small minority, one has to accept that (as best as we can), and learn to deal. Let some things slide off our backs. We? Wait, I'm a middle-class, straight white gal living in the 'burbs with my husband and 2 kids. But, I'm also a vegetarian. And a "natural" mom. And an atheist. I don't always (or EVER) fit in with the other moms at the library story time. Or my husband's boss's winter party. Or Thanksgiving diner at my mom's house. In fact, I don't know ANYONE like me. And it's frustrating as hell. But I've HAD to adapt. HAD to accept that when I go to someone's house for dinner, the only thing I may be eating is a dinner roll and carrot sticks. When the other moms at the library are talking about how much they loved their epidurals and I say I had 2 kids without drugs, I get looks like I'm some kind of sado-masochistic tree-hugging freak. (And what's wrong with that?) But I just smile and know I did the best thing for myself and my children.

The worst thing, by far, in other people's minds, is my atheism. (I may ramble and rant here, so bear with me.) That's something that's not really "chosen", and relates most to this post. I could no more be a church going Christian girl than I could be a dude. I'm just not a person who can be led by blind faith. I love science. I love reason. If you want me to believe in something, show it to me. Prove it to me. I'm not going to get into my person feelings on religion; this is not the time nor the place. This is about predjudice. When I was in 7th grade, it got out that I was an atheist. You wouldn't believe the amount of hatred that was directed toward me. And in a class size of 120, I really stuck out like a sore thumb, and was called "atheist bitch" for years. Thankfully I didn't lose any friendships over it then, but have had people turn against me and our friendship later on. For some reason people get scared when they hear you don't believe there is a god. Then the questions start. "So what DO you believe?" "What do you think happens after you die?" "You actually believe in evolution? You know it's only a theory, right?" Yeah, so is gravity, and the sun being the center of our solar system. Theory has two meanings, and the scientific meaning is different than the philosophical one. Look it up. As for the other questions, I have answered them far too many times and am tired of them.

And as for the terminology used to describe atheists, I just like atheist. There are humanists. Secularists. Unitarian Universalists. Etc, etc, etc. But I'm an atheist. As in a-theism. Meaning no-religion. And I'm sick of it being a dirty word. (I do, however like the term free-thinker, and am planning a rad tattoo soon based on this term, because it can apply to all facets of my life, not just religion.)

So when I say I feel for minorities, and can empathize with being chastized for who you are, some people look at my situation without really knowing me and laugh. I look like a slice of apple pie; what could I possibly be discriminated against? Well, atheism is probably the most feared and hated (or at least distrusted) minority. And I feel it. Every day when I drive past a church, or someone says, "God bless you", or I see someone wearing a gold cross around their neck. But, because nearly 98% of every human I've ever had contact with is probably Christian, I have to let it roll of my back. Of course, I could buy a gold necklace that says "Athiest", and that would be awesome. (Go here, it's beautiful: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?ref=vl_other_1&listing_id=31966298) But I guess I just care too much about other people's feelings. My family would be offended by my blatent lack of religion, and of course now I have my children to think of. I would hate for them to be the "weird atheist kids" and have them go through anything like I did. I do, however, sport a scarlet "A" button on my bag for The Out Campaign, started by the amazing and brilliant Richard Dawkins. It's unassuming, and doen't totally rat me out to the masses, but I do hope someday I'll be in the grocery store or at a restaurant and a like-minded person will recognize it and comment.

I also have some sweet-ass buttons from Krista (just thought I'd throw these in for fun):I also can't get pissed everytime I drive past the golden arches or see a commercial on TV for a dripping, disgusting hamburger that is making everyone fat and diabetic. I just murmmer, "Gross" and ignore it. When I moved to the small-ish town I now reside in, we were driving around with our realtor looking at houses. She said, "Oh, we have lots of good restaurants here in town. Italian, Mexican, lots of stuff." My husband said, "Katie is a vegetarian, do you know of any places that are vegetarian friendly?" Her reply was, "Oh, the place downtown has a good fish dinner. And during Lent you can find lots of fish." I just rolled my eyes and said, "Sorry, don't eat fish, either." But I couldn't get mad at her for her ignorance. Then we were driving past a church and she said, "I don't know what you guys are, but we have pretty much everything here. Lutheran, Baptist, Catholic. Pretty much everything." Ok, what about a synagogue? Or a mosque? It annoyed me that she thought "most Christian churches" were "pretty much everything." But I just ignored it, nodded and smiled.

So I guess what I'm getting at, in a very long-winded way, is that when you are part of a minority that is a tremedously small amount of the population, you have to realize that not everybody is always going to be thinking of your feelings. When I posted a recipe and said it was super duper easy, I didn't stop to think that it might not be easy for a person with no arms to open a can of cream of mushroom soup. Does that mean I discriminate against people with no arms? Absolutely not. But one can't cater to all groups of people all the time.

To the person who commented on my post: I am not ranting at you. You just provoked thoughts that I needed to share. Your comment was in no way insulting and was actually quite polite. I do appreciate you commenting, but what I had originally posted was a joke. And I can't very well go around to all the Christian blogs and tell them they are atheistist. Or atheophobes. And I can't write McDonald's complaining they don't meet my needs as a vegetarian. We just have to surround ourselves with like-minded people who get us. And if there aren't any around, we have to make some up and have tea parties with our invisible vegetarian, atheist, transgendered, armless friends and help them lift their teacups.

13 years ago...

2009-10-25T11:34:00.003-05:00

I was 16. I was also asked on a date by a super cute guy I had a major crush on. Mr. Veg. Aww...

October 24, 1996, he picked me up at my house and took me to Bennigan's. (Don't judge, we lived in a small town and that restaurant was "big town". Super fancy.) I got some kind of sandwich, probably chicken since back then I was just Kat, and had yet to become VegKat. I was so nervous I could barely eat, and just picked at a few fries. I was so embarassed because I thought he would think I was one of those chicks that didn't eat in front of guys, which was so not the case. Just this guy. He, on the other hand, wolfed down his pasta dish, showing no sign that he was probably going to vomit in an anxiety induced panic attack. See, he was a big, bad 19 year old, and had a whole world of experience I didn't have. This was my first date. EVER. So I was a late bloomer. Whatever.

After dinner we still had about 30 minutes until our movie started, so we wandered around and talked for a while (my contribution to the convo: "Uh, huh." "Yeah, I know." "Me, too.") I don't remember anything we talked about, but all I did was agree with whatever he said because I didn't want to turn him off with any radical ideas about my favorite foods, colors or songs. While strolling around we actually walked past a house we would buy together 3 years later. But I digress. After our walk we went to the theater and took our seats to watch "Courage Under Fire." Yeah, I know, super romantic, right? As previously mentioned, we lived in a small town and our theater only had one screen, so if you wanted to go out to see a movie, you were at the mercy of the one screen and whatever they chose to show you. To this day I couldn't tell you what that damn movie was about. I think Meg Ryan was in it. I spent the whole time trying to breathe like a normal human being with the only sound I was hearing was the "THUD THUD THUD THUD" of my pulse in my ears. That's ok, though, because I wouldn't have been able to concentrate on the movie because my brain was too busy with, "OhmygodI'msonervous. CanhetellhownervousIam? OHMYGODHE'SHOLDINGMYHANDNOW!"

After the movie he drove me home and walked me up to my door. We had already had our first kiss the night he asked me out, but I was still extremely inexperienced and didn't have my womanly powers of sexuality yet. So I akwardly weasled out of a kiss and went inside.

And we lived happily ever after! Hee hee. Luckily I've grown up since then. And lucky for my husband I grew up to be AWESOME. Boy, did he dodge that bullet.

One word about this image. It looks exactly like us. I mean, obviously we don't have giant cartoon heads, and he doesn't wiggle his thumb at me all the time. And my chin-butt isn't quite that insane. But anyone who sees this in my house gets pissed. "Those are supposed to be funny, but that looks just like you guys!"

I'm a stinker.

2009-10-19T12:51:00.008-05:00

Today was my son's 18 month check-up (I hate the term "well baby visit" and I refuse to use it except to make fun of it). He was perfectly healthy, as usual, but I still hate taking him there. Because of my idiotic HMO, I can't go to the hospital or doctor's office in my own town, I have to go to the next town over. I'm not about to get into a healthcare debate; that's not what this is about (but watch the doc Sicko and you'll understand how I feel). This is just merely set-up. See, depending on traffic, it takes me anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to get to the office, and the appiontments usually only take about 20 minutes. Anyway, before I really get on my way, I try to position myself in traffic so I'm not following a slow semi-truck or a loud beat-up jalopy that needs a tune up. I have to look at the same car for up to an hour, so it had better be clean, fast, and small. Or have fun bumper stickers.

[I'd like to say real quick that I don't have road rage. Really, I don't.]

Imagine my chagrin this morning when I got behind a giant, rumbly, dirty pick-up truck that probably gets about 12 miles to the gallon. There were a couple stickers in the back window, so I inched up behind them at a stop light to see what they said. I have a thing for stickers. I like to know everything about everyone around me, and bumper stickers are quite revealing. I'm also compiling a list of stickers I see in public; the good ones and the horrible ones. Stay tuned for that someday. Anyway, this A-hole had two. 1. A picture of a hand gun and the quote: "We don't call 911" 2. Uncle Sam pointing his finger in the classic iconic pose saying: "You are in MY country, learn MY language." Hmmm. They didn't really paint a picture of a peace loving, compassionate person. You know, my peeps. And I didn't really feel like following this moron for the better part of an hour. I saw I only had about 50 feet left of 4 lane traffic before it narrowed to 2, so I decided to piss these losers off. I swerved around them so fast they didn't know what hit them. They had to spend the next 45 staring at my Obama bumper sticker slapped on the back of my hybrid. HA HA HA!! For some reason, I'm thinking they didn't vote the same way I did. Oh, and the speed limit was 55, and I did EXACTLY the speed limit the whole way. >:-)

(Almost) just like mom used to make

2009-10-08T12:35:00.004-05:00

When I was growing up, we didn't have a ton of money, so my mom had to come up with delicious yet cheap ways to feed us. With our tough economic times, blah blah blah, we all want to eat cheap. One of her favorites was tuna noodle casserole. It was not, however, one of us kids' favorites. I always thought it would be better if it was just the sauce, noodles and veggies. My brother HATED it. Whenever he smelled it cooking, he'd say, "I'm not eating that. I know what that is." But my mom would just look all surprised and say, "But it's tuna noodle casserole! It's your favorite! You must've forgotten!" Then he would look super confused and say, "Really...? Oh. Ok." And his plate full of TNC (tuna noodle casserole) would magically disappear. Of course, this little trick only worked until he was about 8, then he caught on and realized he really did hate TNC.

But she had another casserole that actually WAS our favorite, and it took no mommy-voodoo-trickery to get us to eat it. Tater tot casserole! Or TTC if you will. So yummy. How I missed it when I became a vegetarian. I knew there were products out on the market that were like meat, but made from other wierd stuff, but I was so afraid to try them. I was actually veg for a year or so before I worked up the nerve to try these exotic products. Like hamburgers. And chicken nuggets. Turns out they are actually yummy! And you never have to worry about biting down on a bone fragment or something that looks suspiciously like an artery. Gross. And I was able to substitute the meat in some of my favorite comfort foods from childhood without having to kill an animal.

So now I'm sharing a super yummy, super (well, pretty much) cheap casserole recipe, and hopefully you and yours will love it as much as I do. Ok, so it's not so much a recipe as much as it is a list of crap you stir together and bake.

What you need:

2 cans of some kind of cream soup. I like to use 1 can mushroom and one can celery, but cream of potato can work in a pinch. Condensed cheese soup can work, too, but I prefer the veggie creams. Just be sure to read your labels (as I'm sure you already do if you're veg). There are a couple cream soups out there that hide chicken in it.

1 bag mixed veggies. I like the one with carrots, corn, green beans, peas and lima beans. Just like peas and carrots? That's cool. You can use whatever, except the ones with broccoli and the like. It think that would just be... gassy.

Some kind of hamburger substitute. My favorite is Morningstar Farms crumbles, but Boca or any other brand will work. Or tofu. Or seitan. Whatever you like. My mom's recipe called for a pound of hamburger, but I always thought it was too meaty. Use however much "meat" you think you would want. Oh, and make sure you always use fake meat. If you use real meat, sometimes there is a chemical reaction and the whole thing blows up and you will need to replace your oven. Don't ask me why, I'm not a chemist. Fake meat, ok? I don't want any lawsuits.

Tater tots. Nuff said.

Preheat oven to 350. Spray glass casserole with non-stick spray. I use a big flat Pyrex tray type casserole, because more surface area means more tots. Get yourself a big ass bowl and dump in the soup. Don't add milk or anything. You want that stuff thick. If you are using two different flavors of soup, just give it a little stir so the flavors mix up. Then dump in your bag of veggies and your meat. If you want, you can add a little black pepper, or get a little creative and add a dash of your favorite herb/spice. Go crazy and make it your own. Then stir that shit up. It will get a little difficult to stir once the frozen veggies and frozen "meat" hit that cream, so stir fast. Pour (more like dump the giant frozen blob) in your casserole, and cover the top with tots. Bake for... oh, let's say 40 minutes? I have a majorly defective oven and I have to rotate the dish and check on my stuff constantly. You might want to check it at about 30 minutes, but it will probably need a bit more. You'll know when it's done when the sauce bubbles and the tots are crispy and delicious. Serve with some crusty bread or something, and devour. The VegKids go nuts-o for this. Whenever my 3 year old sees me getting tots at the store, she starts yelling, "YAY! Tater tot casserole!" And this is a kid I've had to tell, "Hurry up and eat your cake. I don't want to be sitting here at the table all night."

Sorry, vegans. :-(

Being a nerd is the BEST! (pt. 2, Cinematic Titanic)

2009-09-23T21:43:00.011-05:00

And now, for part two of my birthday evening in Chicago. I know it's long overdue, but hey, this isn't high school and this wasn't an assignment.

Are you familiar with "Mystery Science Theater 3000"? If so, you rock. If not, go get yourself a Netflix membership and rent some. Trust me, you'll thank me later. When my husband and I had been dating for about 3 months oh, so long ago, we spent New Year's Eve together and had a movie night. The three movies he and his nerdy friends picked out were Cabin Boy, Meet the Feebles, and Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie. Side note here, if you've never seen Meet the Feebles, rent that, too. It's... awesome. Anyway, this was my first introduction to Mystery Science Theater 3000 (or, to those in the know: MST3K), and I was totally in love with this concept. Come to find out, it was a show that had run for like a decade! Oh, my. I'm not going to go into the whole history behind this awesome show, but you may recognize this:
That would be Tom Servo and Crow sitting with I believe Mike. He replaced Joel, the original guy on the Satellite of Love after a few seasons. Ah. I have always been a Joel girl. There's just something about him. The hubby has always been more of a Mike girl, but whatever. We've learned to live in harmony dispite our obviously huge clash of interest.

Yeah, I'm a nerd. What of it? Not that there's anything wrong with Trekkies or Star Wars geeks, but at least I'm not a Trekkie or a Star Wars geek.

Imagine how excited I was when a friend of mine told me the original group from MST3K had reunited and were putting out new DVDs, similar to MST. They are now called Cinematic Titanic and I went straight to their website to see about getting fresh riffing, and I noticed they tour and do live shows. http://www.cinematictitanic.com/ Wait, Chicago was on the tour list. WAIT! It was my birthday weekend! When the hubs came home from work that day, I told him I had picked out my birthday present. I used to sell fine jewelry to rich bitches and I HATED when women would come in and buy jewelry and say, "Hee hee, this is my birthday present." Stupid bitch. How about you make your worthless husband actually put some thought into getting you something meaningful? But I don't think I'm really in the same category, because I didn't pick out a diamond necklace. I picked out tickets to a show consisting of old-ish nerds making fun of bad movies. But that's ok, because he loves MST as well, and the price was very nice.

Fast forward to our night in Chicago. We had just entered the Lakeshore Theater and had given a guy our tickets. He was holding a hand stamper and asked, "Do you guys plan on drinking tonight?" I replied, "Heck yes we are," and thrust my hand at him to get that baby stamped. Then there was a table covered in Cinematic Titanic paraphernalia: T-shirts, movies, posters. The guy said, "If you buy something, the group will be signing autographs after the show." AGGGGHHHHHH!!! Then I couldn't decide what I wanted. I knew that if I got a shirt, I would just fold it up, stick it in a drawer and NEVER wear it (because the ink would fade, the shirt would wear out and I'd be one sad Kat). A movie would rock, but we would have to hide it away so the VegKids wouldn't totally wreck it. We could get a poster signed and frame it, and hang it up in the living room, and look at it everyday. Maybe hang it right next to the TV so it's always in my line of vision. Bingo.

After purchasing the poster for the movie we were to see riffed (The Alien Factor - HA!), we went to get a drink. Um, ok. The Lakeshore Theater ROCKS because they are independant (I'm assuming), have all kinds of kick ass comedians and shows, and are just all-around cool. However, the hubs got a bottle of beer and I got a gin and tonic, and it came to $16. Kind of a ripoff. Plus, when I was deciding what I wanted, the bartender said, "I can make anything you want." I said a Bombay Sapphire G&T, but they only had Beefeater. Meh. After getting a drink in my hand, I took a look at the crowd hanging around the bar. Wow. I had never felt so... comfortable. A whole room full of nerds, totally in their element. No "popular" kids to make fun of us. And while I completely embrace my nerdiness, sometimes I feel... hmm... I think my husband put it best when he leaned in and whispered, "I'm the most highly functioning nerd I know." I know it sounds kind of like mocking, but I'm not! I loved it. There was even a gal in pig-tails who had made pin-back buttons and stickers and was handing them out. FOR FREE! Nobody does that! Nerds rock.

Finally, after waiting in the lobby for an eternity, they opened the doors. We showed the guy our VIP tickets (oh, yeah, only the best for VegKat) and we were ushered to our seats, smack in the middle of the second row. What? Hell, yeah. Second row. There were two guys wandering around the audience handing out cards saying if we wrote down a question, Joel would maybe answer it. I racked my brain for a clever question, but all that was going on up there was, "ohmygodohmygodjoelareyoumarriedohmygod". Not clever. But the hubs points to one of the card guys and said, "Isn't that the guy from 'Freaks and Geeks'?" YES! It was this guy:His name is Dave Allen and it turned out he was part of the opening act and was HILARIOUS. But when he started introducing the Cinematic Titanic guys (and gal), and I realized I was literally like 15 feet away from these people I have totally been in love with for like 10 years, the "ohmygod" in my head turned into, "EEEEEEE!!!!!!!"

Then the actual show started. If you have seen MST3K (and I'm assuming you have, otherwise you will not have made it this far. I would not read this much about Die Hard.), you know that there are some comments that are so hilarious you laugh so hard you miss a couple riffs and have to rewind and watch again. Then there are some (just a couple, here and there, once in a great while) that... aren't super totally awesome, or go right over your head. But still awesome, still awesome. But this damn show was so friggin hilarious, my face hurt 20 minutes in. My craniofacial muscles were screaming, "STOP! STOP SMILING ALREADY!" And my ab muscles hurt for like two days. And I'm a professional bodybuilder, so that's some hard core muscle action. Oops, did I say professional bodybuilder again? I meant professional crocheter. I'm always doing that.

I wasn't sure how I would handle the live performance, though. Obviously on the show they would have had to watch the bad movie several times, timed their comments, weeded out the bad ones, etc. But it looked like it was just a guy and two robots sitting down and making fun of a movie. The live performance was obviously them performing for us, not just an impromtu riffing. But it was SO awesome seeing them react to each other, react to our reactions, and Joel lick his fingers and turn the pages of his notes. Er, uh, I mean... nevermind. There was even a couple of times where they cracked each other up so much they started laughing. So adorable. Plus, instead of just 3 "characters", there were 5 of them up there. Even better.

Afterwards, there were tables set up right in front of us for them to sign our stuff. We were like 3rd in line since we were in the 2nd row. Did I mention we sat in the 2nd row? I was clutching my poster like a little girl at a New Kids on the Block concert. And I was actually getting nervous! What the hell. I was talking really fast and blabbering to my husband, "What am I going to say? What do I... How...?" For a second I contemplated just shoving the poster at hubs and running out of the theater screaming, "The pressure! I can't take the PRESSURE!" Then the 5 came out and lined up right in front of us. My eyes were darting around like a lunatic and my face was beet red. First person went through the line. Then the second. It's my turn! AGGHH! First to sign was Trace Beaulieu, who played Dr. Forrester and was the original voice of Crow T. Robot. He put his hand out and said, "Thanks for coming," or something like that. Now, I expected a signature, but not a handshake and conversation! So I shook his hand and babbled something incoherently like, "Awesome show." I don't know. Next was J. Elvis Weinstein who played Dr. Erhardt and was the original voice of Servo. Again, "Babblebabble" handshake, blush. He actually noticed the pinback button hubby was wearing and asked him where he got it. Next was Mary Jo Pehl, who played Pearl. She is such a meanie on the show, but is so freaking awesome and nice! She said thanks for coming, and I told her it was my birthday and the tickets were my b-day present. She went, "Aww! What a great birthday gift!" ('EEEE!') Standing next to her was Frank Conniff who played TVs Frank. He overheard it was my birthday and said happy birthday, too (again, 'EEEEE!'). Handshake, babbleblabble by me, and on to The Joel. Eeek. He made some comments about the poster, shook our hands, and by this point I think I had had an aneurysm so I said something like, "Show fan big good show." I realized I had just shaked (shooken, shooked?!? What's first person past tense of shake?) hands with all five of them, so I vowed never to wash my hand again. Then my turn was over, and it was time for cooler, more put-together people to treat the gang like humans. I snapped a couple shots of the CT group and we were on our way. On our way out of the creepy alley we had to exit into, Dave (from opening act fame) was just coming in from outside and we said, "Hey, great show!" and he was all, "Hey, thanks for coming out tonight, guys!" Hee hee. Blush blush.

In the car, headed out of Chicago at 11:00pm, I could have jumped out into traffic. What the HELL was I thinking? Hello?!? Had I been in a somewhat present state of mind, I would have said, "Hey, Joel. It's my birthday, is it OK if I get a picture with you?" Like he would have said no. What the hell? That's pretty much all have been thinking about since the show. Grrr. But... Hubby said the other day, "Well, if they tour again around Chicago, we'll just have to go again and you can get your picture with Joel." Sigh. What a guy.

Just got a MST3K in the mail from Netflix. I'm going to go cuddle up with my ticket stubs, poster and my hand in a bag and watch Joel and the gang rip up Secret Agent, Super Dragon.

B-day evening Part 1: Chicago Diner

2009-09-15T14:24:00.011-05:00

If you read my last post (insert stern look), you'll know I turned 29 last weekend. For my birthday, we decided to drop the kids off with Gramma and Grampa for the night and head up to Chicago. It was the first time since the night my daughter was born that I had been without a kid! I sometimes try ro remember what my life was like all that time ago. I sometimes get weird flashbacks of a time where every other sentence out of my mouth wasn't, "Because I said so!" But it also didn't have sloppy baby kisses every night at betime, either...

I'm not a steak dinner by candlelight kind of gal, in case you hadn't already figured that out. So where did my amazing hubby take me? A vegetarian restaurant!! If you live in a city near veg establishments, it's probably not that big of a deal to you. But I live in Superhillbillyville just outside the city, and I'll be lucky if our grocery store even carries Amy's Kitchen food in another 6 months. So when we were making plans for going out, and the [non]VegHusband found a veg restaurant just a few blocks from our theater, I fell just a teensy bit more in love with him. It's called the Chicago Diner and if you are ever anywhere NEAR Chicago, GO THERE. Seriously. Even if you aren't vegetarian, you'll love it. And your arteries will thank you.

http://www.veggiediner.com/wp/

I first noticed the adorable mid-century diner decor, then I noticed there was no cooking flesh stench! We were given the option of sitting out back on the patio or inside and after saying inside I immediately wished we'd gone outside to enjoy the perfect late summer evening. Oh, well. Inside we got to look at the awesome artwork in our booth where the artist had done some awesome things with a Wonder Woman comic book.

I have to admit real quick I think Deidrich Bader is kinda cute, in a goofy sort of way.

Wait, not there.
There.

Our waiter looked like him, only not so goofy. So I got the blueberry basil limeade and hubby got the iced chai tea latte. They were both awesome, and certainly not shy in the flavor department. His latte was like drinking carrot cake, and my limeade was like drinking... super awesome blueberry basil limeade. As a vegetarian, when I go out to eat, it's not super fun. I mean, not having to cook or do the dishes is fun, but looking through the menu is not. The first thing I do, after skipping the "beef", "chicken", and "fish" sections, I scan over the salads and pastas. Ususally, there isn't even a SALAD that doesn't have meat. So I pick the salad/pasta that sounds most likely to just have some cut-up chicken thrown on top. Then when I order, I have to specify just enough that I want the meat LEFT OFF. But I can't stress it too much, otherwise the chicken breast will be replaced with spit. Not appetizing. That's what is so incredibly terrific about veg restaurants, though. I can open the menu and order ANYTHING! If you are a meat eater, you have no idea what that's like, because I'm sure you take it for granted. Everyone I know does. And this menu was so huge, I had to send Diedrich back a couple times because I couldn't make up my mind.

Finally, though, I decided on the "Pulled pork sandwich" and French onion soup.

Hubby got the reuben and sweet potato fries.OK, so I'm not a food photographer. These dishes looked much better in person, but I was trying to take the pics before anyone saw me being a total nerd. Of course, I was prepared to retort with, "It's ok. I have a blog." Because that makes everything ok.

Oh, and before eating I visited the restroom to wash my hands, because I was not born in a barn. I was a little overwhelmed upon entering said restroom, because the decor of the dining area is somewhat understated. But if a color can be described as GIGANTIC, the color of the bathroom walls certainly warrants that description. Think of the most blinding flourecent green you can imagine, now imagine that with a toilet. Pretty rad. And one wall was a screaming flourecent blue. Plus, they have one of those explosive high-powered hand dryers that makes the skin on your hands look like you just jumped out of a plane. "Feel the power." Coolest public toilet ever.

Now, the actual food review. It was AWESOME! So amazing. My BBQ "pork" sammich was on a pretzel roll that would almost make be believe there is a god. The onion soup was pretty good. I get all crazy when I see there's a soup I can eat. Pretty much every soup you get in a restaurant is made with chicken or beef stock. I hate when I'm out somewhere and ask if they have any vegetarian soups and the waitress says, "Well, we can bring the potato soup out without any bacon on top." Uh, no thanks. Since you can choose your side from a list of like 10 different ones, I just had to go with the soup, even though I forgot I don't like French onion soup. So "it was pretty good" is a rave review from a girl who doesn't like onion soup. Had I been able to get a pulled pork sammich as my side, I would have done that.

The hubs' reuben was equally amazing. He's a meat eater, and he even loved it. Obviously I took a huge bite out of it and loved it, but he said was great because it didn't have that super overwhelming corned beef flavor that sometimes makes him explode with rage. And why more places don't cut up sweet potatoes and fry them is a mystery. So friggin delicious. I want to come back every weekend and try every single thing on the menu. I was so sad when I looked down at my plate and noticed my food was all gone. Since it's not socially acceptable to pick up a plate in public and lick it, I refrained. But hubby cheered me up by getting me one of their gigantic signature cookies. Vegan sugar cookie with cherries. Oh, my...

The cookie isn't red, I just don't work well under pressure and was all nervous I'd get caught taking a photograph of a cookie. Sorry.

I ate it on the walk over to the theater and a stinky vagrant gave me a sad look that said, "Can I have some of that delicious looking vegan cookie?" Yeah, right. I barely shared it with my husband.

Stay tuned for part two of my evening: Cinematic Titanic!

It's my birthday!

2009-09-13T13:36:00.003-05:00

So, it's September 13 again... I'm now officially 29. Birthdays are awesome, no doubt, but I hate the timing of mine. Once the b-day hits, it's a free fall to the bitter yuckiness of January. The leaves start falling. You can't fill up the kiddie pool in the back yard. And then there's football... I hate sports, but football is by far the worst. And selfish, too. They coudn't just stick to Sunday. It's also Mondays. And sometimes Thursdays. And some other day, too, but I don't care and I'm too lazy to ask (non)VegHubs. Plus he's watching football, so he probably won't hear me anyway...

OK, enough self pity! A couple nights ago, the hubs and I had an AWESOME night in the city. And by city, I mean Chicago. Awesome, awesome Chicago. I will lay out the evening in greater detail later this week in 2 glorious instalments: Part 1: The Chicago Diner (a kick ASS vegetarian restaurant) and Part 2: Cinematic Titanic! If you are a super nerd like me, you know what MST3K is. Well, CT is MST3K of the future. Well, I guess the present. But I have a shit load of stuff to crochet today, so I can't spend all day in front of this machine. But I just thought I'd check in and bitch about my birthday and give you all a little teaser.
(View of the skyline as seen through my bug-splattered windshield. I just get so happy when I see the tall buildings...)

Happy birthday to me! Now I'm going to go eat some red velvet cake from my mom. Yeah...

I'd like to introduce you to my dealer

2009-09-08T14:47:00.007-05:00

First, I'd like to say I'm a woman of few vices. I can barely even think of any... A good, black oatmeal stout, staying up late, margaritas with too much salt, anything with refined sugar, Bombay Sapphire gin (and no, I'm not an alcoholic), watching Secretary over and over again, caffeine... Whatever. So I have a few bad habits. But so do you. At least I don't smoke cigarettes or do drugs. OK, there was that one time a friend brought some cannabis over...

I've shared a couple things with you that I just can't live without, and I've found my newest obsession. This one cannot be found on Etsy, and it's something you can eat! YAY! Wanna play a guessing game? Think of the coolest thing EVER. OK, now add chocolate. Now add caffeine. Now bake it. Make sure its chewy and moist. Obviously, I'm talking about a brownie. The most AWESOME brownie EVER. Wait, did I just say this bitch contains caffeine? You bet your ass I did.

Ohhh, just look at that chewy, gooey middle. And that slightly crisp, shell-like top. Oh, could a human being actually make something so perfect? Guess how much caffeine is in there. A can of Coke has about 34 mg. Mt. Dew has 55 mg. Red Bull has 80 mg. 2 oz of espresso has 100 mg. This behemoth has 200 MG! And when I say behemoth, I mean behemoth. Don't you hate it when your mom makes brownies, then cuts them into tiny little slivers, so you need to eat like 18 of them? And then your mom says, "Stop eating so many brownies! You are going to ruin your appetite and get sick! Blah blah blah!" Well, these aren't tiny slivers. I was going to measure the one that was just sitting in front of me, but I forgot and ate it instead. Oops. And Allison (the baker extraordinaire) won't yell at you for eating too many. She's kind of evil because she'll talk you into another one. How awesome would it be to have her as a mom? And the cookies are huge, too. Like as big as your head.

Worried about calories? Don't be annoying. Anyway, this brownie will make you so hyper you won't think about eating for the rest of the day. Plus, you'll have so much energy you'll be bouncing off the walls burning all those glorious calories. And you'll be so much more interesting, too.

Now, where in the world could you get such a thing? Anywhere. Cause you can buy them online. www.asnackintheface.com Yeah. The bakery is called A Snack in the Face. And their slogan is "You look like you could use a snack in the face." Don't like brownies? First, you need to look into that. Then, when you buy some brownies, you can also pick up sugar cookies. Or cheesecake. Or muffins. Or cupcakes. And they don't taste like they contain an extra special ingredient. Don't get me wrong, I loves my coffee, but I'm tired of anything that's caffinated tasting like "mocha", or "espresso". These just taste like "brownie" and "cookie". The way they're supposed to.

But... if you live in Ames, Iowa, or anywhere remotely near there, you can go to their micro-bakery and pick some awesomeness up. Cause that's what I did. Last week I had to make a pilgrimage back to the homeland (i.e. Iowa), and thought I would stop in and see what this was all about. Allison hooked me up with brownies and sugar cookies, and the (non)VegHubs with some cheesecake. The poor VegKids couldn't understand why Mommy wasn't sharing. The seven hour drive home was so much more fun after a brownie. The colors were brighter, Franz Ferdinand sounded even more awesome, and the hubs' yammering about fantasy football was actually tolerable.

Brownies for breakfast? Sign me up. You don't even need to brew any coffee.

ETA: Oh, and follow them on Twitter: http://twitter.com/asnackintheface There is always an update with Twitpics featuring something new and delicious looking. The pics are like porn for your eyes. Well, I guess all porn is porn for your eyes... but these are safe for work.

My weird little crush.

2009-09-08T12:42:00.008-05:00

For as long as I can remember, I've had a thing for Mike Nesmith from The Monkees. I grew up in the 80's, but the TV show was always in re-runs on Nick at Nite, and my mom had tapes I would listen to in my gigantic boom box. Most girls liked the safety of Davy, with his cute little British accent and his comfortable, child-like size. But for some reason that towering Southern gentleman in the wool hat always did it for me. I don't like country music AT ALL, but the 4 songs by The Monkees that Mike was responsible for are my favorite, and I don't care how honky tonk they are. Whenever I'm in the car with the (non)VegHubs and a Mike/Monkees song comes on the iPod, I giggle a little and blush. He just rolls his eyes and patiently waits the 2 minutes it takes to get through the hill-billy 60's pop perfection.
I think Mike Nesmith is single-handedly responsible for establishing "my type", that is tall, skinny, dark and delicious, so the hubs (tall, skinny, dark and delicious) should thank Mr. Nesmith.

And now... A book review! YAY!

2009-08-07T14:09:00.009-05:00

I just got done reading a book, and as is usually the case with any book I read, I've been completely obsessed with it since I read the first sentence. Now that I'm done with it, it's all I can think about. American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. Awesome. But it's not exactly the kind of book I can go out and tell everyone I know to read, because, well... it's a little messed up. Then (non)VegHusband read it first and would occasionally look up from it and say, "Are you sure you want to read this? It's pretty... graphic. And disgusting. And graphic." Which, of course, made me want to read it even more. Plus, I was the one who got it from http://www.swaptree.com/; I was just being nice and let him read it first. And I knew what the plot consisted of, because I had seen the movie a million years ago. Although having seen the movie didn't exactly prepare me for the book, especially since the only thing I remember from the movie is the scene with the business cards (HILARIOUS!) and him running after someone in his birthday suit wielding a chainsaw. I started reading it while I was visiting my gramma a couple weeks ago, and it just seemed wrong to be reading it in her house. I mean, she baked me cookies and everything.

The book was written in the late 1980's, and is so deliciously... 80's. I can't believe it was actually written in the decade it's set in, and that the author was about the same age as the main character. It seems almost like it would have had to have been written at least a decade after the time it's set, but it's also just dripping with the "Me, me, me"ness of the 80's that there is no way it could have been written at any other moment in time. And for Ellis to be savvy enough to be able to write about his generation in their prime with such objectiveness, but at the same time be equally subjective is just brilliant.

The (non)VegHusband thinks my choice of bookmark is hilarious, given the subject matter of this book, but it was nearby and small enough to work. It's a little pink crochet flower I made forever ago and still has the long ends attached which work perfectly as a bookmark. Now I'm thinking of making a ton of these little babies and listing them in my Etsy store. But I digress.
I really can't go much into the plot without giving too much away, but the movie was pretty popular, so I'm sure you know the jist of it: Wall Street, late 1980's, yuppies, selfishness, etc. Patrick Bateman is the self-absorbed pretty boy who kind of loses it. Or does he? This is really a fantastic book, and I think if it weren't so gory it would be a great novel to, ahem, disect (ha!) in a literature class of some kind. But I can just imagine the reactions of some students after reading one of the few chapters entitled, "Girls". I don't think that teacher would be looked upon too favorably. I don't know if I should worry or not, though, because it really didn't disturb me as much as it probably should have. The hubs seemed to think I would be putting the book down to have to run to the bathroom to toss my cookies, and that I would be losing sleep or dreaming of a psycopath with an ice pick. I wonder if he thinks I'm cooler because I can handle it, or if he's sitting across the room from me right now, staring at me, wondering what the hell is wrong with me and what my childhood was REALLY like. I'm not a lunatic. Really. I'm just... Whatever. There were 2 chapters, though, that did make me squirm, and one involved a rat. But I'm not going to tell you what happens. It's a real page-turner!

We were going to watch the movie last night, but we were a little tuckered out and just vegged out in front of Comedy Central instead. A re-run of one of my favorite shows (Important Things with Demetri Martin) was on, and my favorite Demetri Martin sketch EVER just happened to be on that episode. The rat chapter was still kind of bouncing around in my brain, so when this sketch came on, it seemed like the universe was somehow mocking me. In a super funny way. Good one, Universe!

Important Things with Demetri Martin

Power - Creedocide

http://www.comedycentral.com/

Joke of the Day

Stand-Up Comedy

Free Online Games

Don't you think Demetri Martin is just the cutest little genius EVER? Me, too. I love that Comedy Central is becoming the nerdy white boy network.

Check out the new blog and an AWESOME GIVEAWAY!!

2009-07-28T23:01:00.004-05:00

I've started another blog. Like one blog wasn't enough, right? I'm to lazy too explain myself, so here is the first post from the new blog, copied and pasted, verbatim.

After some deliberation, I have decided not to mix business and pleasure. If you are a devoted follower of my other blog (www.vegkat.blogspot.com), congratulations! You obviously have great taste. If you haven't read anything over there, check it out. That blog is like the fun-loving (but not annoyingly drunk) girl at the party everyone wants to be around. Kind of crazy, politically savvy, a little kooky but well-read, and totally rad. OK, maybe I'm over selling it, but it is a fun read. Everyone tells me so. Think if this as Vegkat's Confessions' dorky half sister who only pries herself away from watching Nova on PBS and crocheting doilies only to spend hours searching through the pages of Etsy for nothing in particular. But she's still awesome.

Yeah, I knit and crochet, and I rock. I'm bringing it back, great-gramma style with my hooks and double pointed needles. I've got a big closet full of yarn, and I'm not afraid who knows it.

So, to kick off the BIG NEW BLOG, I'm having a BIG FAT GIVEAWAY!!! Oh, yeah, bitches. You read that right! We need to get the ball rolling here with a free, CUSTOM made iPod cozy. Or sock. Or whatever you want to call it. And it doesn't have to be iPod, either. I'm no snob. If you are chosen as the BIG WINNER, I will hand crochet a cozy to fit your gadget in any color(s) you want, and I can even go crazy and embroider something awesome on it. As mentioned before, I have a huge stash of yarn, so the cozy will be made from an acrylic yarn I already have. Don't worry. I have any color you could want, mostly. You won't be stuck with avacado green with harvest gold accents. Unless that's what you want. I don't judge. I'll work with you to make sure you get what you want. Just take a look at my Etsy store at www.vegkat.etsy.com and make sure you like my style before entering.

Oh, yeah, and shipping will be free, too!

Now, how to enter? Just become a follower of this blog and comment on this post letting me know what your favorite thing in my shop is. Again, that address is: www.vegkat.etsy.com You can heart the shop, too, but that's not required. Shameless, aren't I? I will pick a winner at random (I'll literally put names in a hat and draw) on August 8th, and will contact you via email. We'll become best friends and with your help I'll design your CUSTOM iPod cozy!

OK, it's me, first blog Vegkat again. Now, this is the only freebie. If you want to read more exiting tales of my yarn-craft, you have to subscribe to Vegkat's Yarns (clever, huh?) at http://vegkatsyarns.blogspot.com/ But don't worry, anyone out there who thinks I'm rad but doesn't give a hoot about my hooking. I'll still be hanging around Vegkat's Confessions, bitching about something or sharing something super totally awesome with you!

Break it down.

2009-07-11T15:08:00.005-05:00

I have a re-occuring dream that I don't understand. It's not the normal "falling off a cliff" or "going to school naked". It's not even the one where you see yourself standing in sort of sun-god robes on a pyramid with a thousand naked women screaming and throwing little pickles at you. I wish.

I'm in an elevator in a really tall building. Sometimes I'm by myself, sometimes I'm with other people. This last time I was with this guy from high school who had a big-ass tribal armband tattoo and chewed tobacco. IN HIGH SCHOOL. Gross. He was a wrestler and he thought he was tough. You know the type. Anyway I haven't seen him in like 10 years, and he shows up in my elevator dream. So we're in this elevator, and it starts going up. And up. AND UP. Soon this box on a cable is rocketing towards the top of the building, and I'm crazy insanely scared. And it's not that I'm scared the cable will break and we'll go plummeting to our deaths 100 stories below. I'm afraid the elevator will be going so fast, it won't be able to stop and will just shoot right out of the top of the building, and keep going. And not in a cool "Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator" kind of way. It would keep going until gravity took over, then it would crash back down to the building and kill us all in a disgusting, showy way that would be most unbecoming.

I don't get it and it pisses me off.

I am one busy hooker.

2009-07-07T12:27:00.009-05:00

No, no. It's nothing as glamorous as standing out on a corner in a bad wig and cheap high heels, selling my body for money. Nope, I'm just a crocheter. So if you're reading this to hoping to delve into the secret life of sleeping with senators... sorry. But you can stick around to look at all the awesome stuff I've been making out of yarn! YAY, YARN!!

If you visit my Etsy store (http://www.vegkat.etsy.com/), you'll see I mostly do baby stuff. And stuff to wear or use when it's like 14 degrees out. Needless to say, I have not made a sale in MONTHS. Boo. So I have been trying a few different things, and have come up with a super cute idea for keeping your iPod all comfy cozy. Who WOULDN'T want one?

I also do this thing with my left over yarn, but I'm not sure if anyone even likes it. I LOVE it, so everyone else can suck it. When I do a project, I'm always left with a little ball of yarn that's not enough to make, say, a whole hat or blanket or whatever. But there's a world of possibilities out there for using that shit up! An iPod cozy is a good one, for instance. Another option are these crazy ass baby blankets.

The girly one is for sale in my store in case you love it as much as I do. The boy one is not for sale, unfourtunately. It's my son's car blanket and he loves the hell out of it. When I'm out in public, I always get asked if I made it. When I say yes, I get one of two reactions: 1. "Oooh, that is SO COOL! I've never seen anything like it!" 2. "Oh. Uh... neat." I don't care. I think it's freaking awesome.

I've known how to knit and crochet for about 17 years. My mom would work with yarn and I'd ask her to show me how. So in her hands-on, super affectionate way, she lovingly bought me a "How to Crochet" book and a "How to Knit" book. I'm not here to bitch about any kind of resentment for that, because I loved teaching myself how to create awesome things out of essentially a string. Plus now I can brag that I'm completely self-taught. And I'm glad I learned both at the same time, because I'm equally good at both, in my opinion. I prefer crochet, but sometimes I get sick of that, and have to pick up some sharp, pointy sticks. Here's what I'm working on now.

Oh, yeah. I totally rock the double pointed needles. I don't need no stinking circular.

It's a hat for a baby/toddler and is going to have the awesome flowers featured on the pink iPod cozies. I just learned how to do that and I want to embroider flowers on EVERYTHING. The yarn being used on this hat is totally vintage. My mom had a friend who's mother passed away a few years ago, and she was a knitting freak. She had tons (I'm talking TONS) of yarn left, and it was given to my mom. She didn't quite want an entire basement full of yarn, so she let me pick what I wanted. AWESOME! I mean, it's not awesome the lady died, but I didn't know her, and she had a damn awesome yarn stash. Which means I now have an awesome yarn stash.

When I finish this hat I'll post some pics of it. I'll also throw in a pic of the first thing I ever knitted, because I'm too lazy to get pics of it now. It's a purple scarf and it rocks my socks off. I still wear it, and tell people I made it when I was like 11. Because you can kind of tell it was made by an 11 year old. An AWESOME 11 year old.

Spot the 3 movie references.

2009-07-06T12:46:00.007-05:00

So I kinda "bent" the truth when I said my daughter was a creative genius with the sidewalk chalk. Of course she's a creative genius, but she's only 3, so her sidewalk drawings are mostly lines and curvy lines. But give the girl a crayon, and WATCH OUT! When I said "creative genius" I was kind of talking about me.

The (non)VegHubs is the engineer, and he oversaw the train track project. The VegGirl is OBSESSED with Thomas the Train, so everything has to do with trains. Her Radio Flyer tricycle is red, so of course it's name is James. (Her brother's stroller is grey, so obviously it's Spencer.) James needed some tracks to follow to get to Tidmouth Sheds, so here they are:

Sometimes I draw a door with a doorknob, just to see if it will open if I knock 3 times. It usually doesn't.

Every moment of they day, we are somebody besides ourselves. It's either, "I'm Lady, you're Percy, Daddy's Gordon, and [VegBoy] is Edward! OK?" or it's, "I'm Pinoccio, you're the Blue Fairy, Daddy's Jiminy Cricket, and [VegBoy] is Gepetto, OK?" Or it's, "I'm Wish Bear, you're Cheer Bear, Daddy's Tenderheart Bear, and [VegBoy] is Bedtime Bear, OK?" You get the idea.

Someday I'm going to reply with, "How about I be Elanore, you be Margot, Daddy will be Royal, and [VegBoy] will be Ritchie, OK?" Or "I'll be Ramathorne, Daddy will be Farva, you will be Rabbit, and [VegBoy] will be Foster, OK?" SAY CAR RAMROD.

A few cold pricklies

2009-06-30T12:28:00.004-05:00

I've spent the last couple days on an awesome summertime sunshine high, but today... not so much. It's cold, cloudy, smells like sulfer out there and I was just attacked by a dragonfly. So summer, you can suck it today, and I'm going to bitch about you. Here are a few things that really bother me about summer. And not the same crap that annoys everyone. I'm not going to sit here and say, "Boy, those mosquitoes sure are annoying." Because everyone in the world hates mosquitoes and those freaking horrible bites you scratch and scratch until they bleed and scab over, then you pick at it until your mom yells at you. And who's gonig to say, "I get to go weed the garden today in high humidity. YAY!"

So here's my Top 10 list of things that are annoying about MY summer:

10. For some reason my roses only bloom once then the bushes just sit there, all green and leafy the rest of the summer. I walk through my neighborhood and all my stupid goody-goody neighbors have fragrant nice gardens with roses that bloom all summer. Yeah, I know. I probably need to prune them or fertilize them, but that's just more work.

9. There is always bird poop on my kids' swingset and slide. I mean, really, birds. You have no respect. How would you like me to climb up in your tree and poop in your nest? I didn't think so.

8. Whenever I go out to get my laundry off the line, there are these disgusting beetles all over my clothes. I'm not talking like a bee beard type covering, but there are always 2 or 3 I have to swat off with a stick, then jump away and flap my hands like a little girl all the while screaming, "It's gonna get me!" They are brown with an irridecent green on their backs, and are big enough to completely cover a button on my husband's work shirts. They look like they would make a really gross crunch if I were to stomp on them.

7. On my daughter's birthday, we found a garter snake slithering along the side of the house. The Veg Husband almost caught it. He had it in his sexy, brave, manly hand, but it got away, eventually disappearing under our front steps. I'm not afraid of snakes, but what bothers me is that I never know if/when I'm going to run into it again, and that pisses me right off.

6. Once the trees in the neighborhood fill in, we sparadically loose our satalite signal. We had the dish installed in the winter when all the trees were empty, and the wierdo installer who mounted it on our garage assured us it would be fine. Guess what? Once those giant trees South of us get leaves, it blocks the flippin signal. I'm too pissed to call Dish Network, because you know what? This is the SECOND location for our dish, and they charged us like $100 to come and move it.

5. I have a couple of hill-billies next door. He's an a-hole and hates his wife, but she's a bitch so I don't blame him. Anyway, since he can't stand her, he's always outside. He mows his lawn a minimum of every 12-36 hours, has two hunting dogs that bark all the time, and subjects us to his garage radio and it's "NON-STOP ROCK BLOCK"s.

4. I also have a couple of hill-billies who live behind us, and they have like 3 kids... I think. And they've obviously never been enlightened with the story of the boy who cried wolf. Because they scream bloody murder a minimum of every 12-36 minutes. I wouldn't know if a bear wandered into town and started mauling everyone in sight until it was too late. I would just think the screaming was because "EVAN STOLE MY TOY!"

3. My daughter is a gifted creative genius, and her sidewalk chalk drawings are proof of this. But nobody knows because every time a masterpiece is completed, it rains and all evidence is wiped clean.

2. There is a creepy orange feral cat with 3 1/2 legs that wanders all over the neighborhood, including our back yard. It will stare at you through the window, almost daring you to come and chase it away. It's just creepy and I don't like it one bit.

1. My husbands's smelly grill. I guess now is as good a time as any to admit... The Veg Husband actually isn't Veg. This doesn't detract from his awesome sexiness, and he's super cool with me being a vegetarian, and raising our Veg Kids veg. He also eats lots of meatless meals, and never complains. But... he's a man, and in the summer it's all too common to see him out at his man-grill, holding a beer (because that's what you do) and cooking up some stinky meat. (Of course the beer is either a microbrew or imported, and not a light beer, because we are beer elitists like that.) Anyway, because we have this flesh cooking monstrosity out there, on hot days when the sun hits it, the drippings that fall down into it tend to heat up and a less than pleasant scent wafts out. Not yummy. I don't think even people who eat meat would find that appealing. Ugh. I could go on and on about how much it grosses me out, but really, what good would that do? I'm gagging, anyway.

Well, there it is. I'm thoroughly pissed off at you now, Summer. You had better be extra nice to me tomorrow and bring me flowers. Just so I'm not a total Debbie Downer today, here's a pic of the walkway to my back door. How freakin cute are they? At least outside is good for something.

Sunshine and "self abuse"

2009-06-29T14:46:00.004-05:00

Outside is awesome. I have a sunshine high.

It's 80 degrees out, breezy and sunny. We filled up the kiddie pool, put the vegkids in our beast of a double stroller and took a mile walk, I got some laundry hung, then we hopped in the pool. I glanced over my shoulder at my "garden" and figured that was enough gardening for today.

Ahhh. There is just something about sunshine. I don't believe in sunscreen, so we are all sailing on a nice Vitamin D high right now. Now don't go killing my buzz with talk of skin cancer. We are all fair skinned at the VegHouse, and I know our limits. Plus, the sun is good for you. Did you know that there is just as much (if not more) cancer now as before the giant push for sun-saftey by the sunscreen industry in the 80s? You wanna know why? Sunshine is a (free!) and ultra natural source of Vitamin D. You've read the medical findings lately. Vitamin D deficiencies are thought to be the cause of all kinds of cancer and countless other ailments, and a moderate amount of D helps prevent all sorts of yuckiness. So now not only to we have to slather chemical sunscreen on every speck of exposed skin, it is now recommended we take an artificial Vitamin D suppliment every day. Huh. Makes sense. How about we skip the chemical sunscreen, spend a moderate amount of time in the sun, and soak up all that sun-shiny goodness? Don't believe me? Google it. This isn't high school so I'm not including a bibliography.

Up until the 1960s or so, a daily sunbath was recommended for good health. Check out this illustration from Vitalogy, "An encyclopedia of health and home; adapted for the home, the layman, the family" by E.H. Ruddock, MD, published 1899. (I collect vintage health books because they are awesome.)
(I figured I'd better bibliograph that bitch since it's copyrighted.)

See, they knew something about health back then. Of course the same book also warns against the dangers of masturbation, saying "self abuse" caused, "sore eyes, blindness, stupidity, consumption, spinal affection, emaciation, involuntary seminal emissions, loss of all energy or spirit, insanity and idiocy-the hopeless ruin of both body and mind," among many other symptoms. But then goes on to say, "These latter results do not always follow." Uh huh. Because they never do. It's a hilarious read, and if you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up. I also have a Better Homes and Gardens baby book my grandmother read while my mother was a baby in from 1956, and it has a picture of a baby bassinet out in the sun. I wouldn't really recommend putting an infant in direct sunlight, but for you an me, I'm sure it's fine. I'm too lazy to get a pic of it, so just trust me.

Getting back to the original subject... After you read my blog in it's awesome entirety, get off your lazy butt and go outside and enjoy the sun!

Add gardening to the list of things I ROCK at.

2009-06-28T22:28:00.000-05:00

My favorite part of the year is when the daffodils poke their green little heads out of my rock garden around Valentine's Day. Once that happens, spring is on it's way! YAY! Then the tulips, then the lilies of the valley, then the roses, tiger lilies, etc. The old couple who lived in my house before me were gardening wizards. Every moment, from spring to fall, there is some kind of perennial blooming in my yard. It's pretty much awesome. So every year I get a bee in my bonnet and for some reason think I can not only handle the task I inherited from the previous owners, but, what the hell? I can have a full vegetable garden, too! There was one left here in the sunny corner of my yard, I just have to go out and pull the weeds before they get out of hand, and I'd be set. Just picture evenly plowed rows of soil just overflowing with beautiful green foliage, heavy fruits hanging on trellises and obviously not a weed in sight. I'm sure you can imagine how this is going to end...

This year I was all set. I had my seed starting kit with 3 (yes THREE) packs of organic green bean seeds. There is a (teeny tiny) farmer's market in town where I was going to pick up some tomato plants, and probably some onion sets. Then my neighbor was telling me how delicious fresh carrots are. YUMMY! And my mom regales me with the nostalgic memory of sneeking into the neighbor's sweet pea field with her brothers and sister to sit down in the dirt and eat the fresh peas right out of the pod. "You'll never taste anything so wonderful." OK! Sign me up! It doesn't matter that the only food I've ever grown were a few roma tomatoes in a container last year, does it? Oh, and I started a worm composting bin so they could eat my leftovers and produce wonderfully rich compost for the fantastic organic vegetables I'll be growing for my family. Think of all the money I'll save, too!

When the ground was ready, I got started. Got all the weeds taken care of. Stuck some bean seeds in the starter pods. Turned the soil over and enriched it with straw and peet moss. By this point I'd already decided to nix the carrots and peas. It's just too much for this year. I'll get the hang of tomatoes, onions and beans this year, then add carrots and peas next year. I was so pumped!

Then I forgot to water my bean seeds. Not for a day. Not for two days. For almost a month. I took them down to the basement to set them on my deep freeze when I had a few guests over so they wouldn't have to look at my trays of dirt. Oops. Guess I won't be planting beans. That's ok, because now it's time to pick up some farmer's market tomato and onion plants and get going with those. At least I'll be able to make a kick ass spaghetti sauce, right? Oh, wait. He doesn't sell onion sets. Damn. But that's ok, because I'll focus all my energy on having the best tomato plants in town. All my neighbors will be so jealous. I dug 3 little holes for my precious triplets and lovingly placed them in the ground with help from my 3 year old daughter. We ran into several worms, and the brave little girl not only got over her fear of them (which she had developed a couple months before after seeing them wiggle out after a rainstorm), but she became obsessed with holding them and letting them wiggle in her hand. So that was awesome! Anyhoo, we watered the tomatoes and being the good little mommy I am I even covered them that night because it was supposed to get a little chilly. Awww...

Well, it's been about 6 weeks or so since getting them in the ground, and lets just say I'm a better mommy to my babies than I am to my plants. I can't even imagine what my kids would look like if I treated them like my poor "garden". They would be choked with weeds, and the feral neighborhood stray cats would probably be using them for a litter box. Take a look at this. Can you even see a garden here?!?

Here. I'll help you out with my awesome artwork. Did I mention I'm a graphic designer? Microsoft Paint is my specialty.

Soooo embarassing. But I'm teaching my children a life lesson, right? All the gardening gurus say it's great for your kids to learn where food comes from and how much hard work goes into making food, but the reward is delicious food. I'm kind of afraid of what completely messed up message is working it's way to their impressionable little brains. Oh, well. I do have something to show for it, I guess. There are about half a dozen plump little tomato fetuses hanging from the plants, so who knows? Maybe I'll still be the envy of the neighborhood. Or not so much...

Steve Harvey can suck it!

2009-06-10T22:16:00.003-05:00

The newest celebrity to be honored with the title, "People I can't stand and want to punch in the forhead" is Steve Harvey. Steve was unable to accept his award, so I will accept for him. "Thank you. Steve couldn't have won this award without being the complete tool he is. I'm sure he'd like to thank his parents for raising such an ignorant bigot." Let's roll the clip!

Honorary mention goes to Miss Tyra Banks for her timid, nervous little laugh. I'm sure she's just thinking, "Oh, the e-mails I'm going to have to delete about this little comment. But I totally agree."

Watch this, only instead of "atheist", pretend he's saying Jew. Or Inuit. Or Iowan. Suck it, Steve Harvey.

PS I would like to appologize for my pathetically low blog activity. My mother got me started on Farm Town on Facebook, and it wastes way too much frickin time.

Speaking of menstruation...

2009-05-27T15:26:00.007-05:00

I kind of doubt I have many men-folk who wake up in the morning wondering if VegKat has anything new and witty to say. If I do, and you happen to be one, you might want to wait for another day for me to change your life. This is for the ladies. Unless you are a dude who gets a period, in which case you had better get to your proctologist, NOW.

I know I said I didn't openly celebrate my period and go to Moon Goddess meetings or anything like that, but I also realize it's a normal thing and all the ladies experience it. And it's also ok to talk about it. I wasn't raised by Carrie's mother or anything. She didn't lock me in a closet and beat me when I got my boobies.

My children both wore or are currently wearing cloth diapers. I don't like the chemicals used in disposable nappies, and bundling up my wee ones in plastic isn't my idea of comfort. Google "chemicals in disposable diapers" and see if you like what you read. Cause I didn't! Through this research, I found out the same chemicals we ignorantly place so close to our babies' itty bitty bits are the same questionable chemicals we put near (OR IN!) our bits. NOT cool. (Google "chemicals in tampons". Like what you see?) You know what else isn't cool? Getting a surpise waxing from super-human strength adhesive on a "wing". Seriously. You know what I mean. But what can we do? The only thing to do is to keep buying these products from these evil, giant corporations that have been brainwashing women since our grandmothers were children. Wait until something new and better comes along, right? I wasn't really happy with that, so I delved deeper.

What's old is new, my friends! Turns out some women use cloth pads. WHAT? How weird is that. You mean you bleed on it, then wash it, then use it again? Kinda gross. I mean, it's not like wrapping a baby up in cloth, letting them poop on it, then washing it and putting it back on them. Wait... OH! I get it! Ok, so not so gross! Then with just a tad bit more digging into the world wide web, I found out people actually make them and sell them! It's a (not so) dirty little secret the evil masterminds at the K---x and T----x companies don't want you to know! And not only do they not contain any chemicals, but they are made from super soft, cute fabrics and you only have to buy them once! No more running out in the middle of the night because you are bleeding all over your house. Gross. Just do a load of laundry, you lazy bum.

But lucky you. You happened to stumble upon my blog, and don't have to do any of that laborous research finding the best product for the best price! See, I'm doing humanity a favor. All you need to do is click here:

http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=55632

Easy! And no, I'm not affiliated with Crea8tiveMama at all. I just buy her stuff. Because she's AWESOME. Just look at her fabrics! Just look at her prices! I'm telling you people, once you switch, you will wonder what the hell you were ever thinking wearing that trash in your underwear. Oh, and another great thing about them. You know that horrible CRINKLE CRINKLE KKKKRRRRIIIIPPPPPPP CRINKLE CRINKLE CRINKLE that gives away your feminine mystique? These don't have that. Unless you like that, then you can wrap them up in wrapping paper and pretend you are giving yourself a little present several times a day, several days a month. Which with these, you basically are.

No more Menstrual-Mobile

2009-05-25T21:55:00.008-05:00

I was in a record shop about a year ago with the VegHusband, spending more money on dusty old Devo and Clash records (and he probably bought a Ramones record too... Oh, how I despise The Ramones). I was getting bored and wandered over to the glass counter where they have fun buttons and stickers and stuff... WHOA! Did I just see a car window sticker for The Cramps? And was it really hot pink? Hmm... Maybe there is a god. Or just a record store owner with awesome taste. So of course I bought it and slapped that hot baby on the back of my Vue Hybrid the second I got home.

If you don't know who The Cramps are, they are this amazing punk/ rock-a-billy band that look like glam-ghouls and have a fetish for wonderful mid-century horror movies. My favorite album by them is "Songs the Lord Tought Us". Hee hee. The best song is "TV Set" which features the line: "I'll cut your head off and put it in my TV set/I'll use your eyeballs for dials on my TV set." Brilliant. Listen to it. You'll thank me later. (Another brilliant song from a different album: "Bikini Girls with Machine Guns." Need I say more?) When I drove around with this on my car, I felt like everyone I'd pass would spot it and think, "Now there's a chick with awesome taste. I'm not really sure who The Cramps are, but I'm sure they are an obscure punk/rockabilly band with an incredible sense of humor, hence, the driver of that car must be equally amazing."

Hmm... that probably wasn't the reaction I was getting for a year. Last weekend I went to visit the mom and pop, and as I was loading up the car, Mom said, "Pop asked me why you have a sticker about cramps on your car." I said sarcastically, "Because it's the Menstrual-Mobile. I have to advertise." Kissed the mom and pop goodbye, and got in the car with VegHusband. I mentioned pop's question to VegHusband, and he said, "I'm sure a lot of people think that. There are like four people in the world who know who The Cramps are, and we are two of them." Huh. Really. So I've been driving around for a year, letting people think I was so proud of my menstruation I had to advertise. Damn. Not that I'm not proud of being a woman, but I'm not one to attend Moon Meetings and rejoice in not being able to wear my jeans for a week. Nor was I extremely embarassed at the thought of people thinking that, because I had to let the 2 other Cramps fans out there just how cool I am. But you know what? I think I was kind of waiting for an excuse to take it down, so I could replace it with one that I had been itching to buy for quite some time. Of course, VegHusband was not opposed to converting the Menstrual-Mobile.

Yessss...

Issues

2009-05-21T15:50:00.001-05:00

My previous entry of awesomeness seems to have issues with the comment link. If you are so inclined, you may post here.

Your daily dose of AWESOME

2009-05-21T14:22:00.008-05:00

So, your two great loves in life are The Office (UK version, OF COURSE!) and New Wave music? MINE TOO! Weird. Don't think they have anything in common? Well, they do. And Ricky Gervais is the coolest human being to ever walk the face of the planet.

First, you must watch this. I mean it. If you've seen it before, you know you want to see it again. If you haven't seen it, you can't die with never having seen it. Plus, there will be a quiz later. So WATCH IT!

HA HA HA! Awesome. But there's more. More dancing. Sort of. SEONA Dancing. Never heard of it? I hadn't either, but now I'm so in love with Mr. Gervais my poor VegHusband is getting jealous. Now I appologize for the poor quality of this video, but think of it as a piece of history that's been unearthed, and we should be happy with what we've got. You wouldn't say Nike of Samothrace is less beautiful because she doesn't have a head. Enjoy...

Sigh...

I have become so obsessed with this I had to have it for my iPod. However, it is nowhere to be found in iTunes. With a little research, I found www.seonadancing.com (very little research, in fact, given the name of the website), and they can hook you up with not only this gem, but 3 others! YAY! It's the only thing I've listened to for a week. Enjoy. And you're welcome.

I can't live without...

2009-05-14T16:13:00.004-05:00

They say the sense of smell is the one most closely related to memory. You can smell a scent you haven't whiffed in years, and remember exactly what was happening and who you were with the last time you smelled it. For years I been looking for my "signature scent." You know what I mean. Remember that dim-witted girl in high school who always wore Calvin Klein Obsession, just because it was "designer" and "grown up" and was called Obsession, so guys would have to be obsessed with her, even though she smelled like... well... Obsession? And now every time you smell that atrocious stink, you think of her. Or the powdery soft old lady scent of White Shoulders. Every time you smell it you think of your awesome gramma and remember when she took you to the mall to get your ears peirced for the first time when you were 6 without telling your dad. I had tried forever to pick a scent that would scream VEGKAT, but I kept missing. Plus, I didn't want to keep spending $40 for a bottle of chemically scented water. WTF is THAT all about?!?

THEN... I was just cruising around Etsy one day, and stumbled upon a shop called Simple Traditions. Hmmm... What's THIS?!? LILAC PERFUME?!? YES!!!

http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=24904560

So I ordered it right away, along with some soap samples (which are all delightful, btw). When this flowery little package came to my doorstep, I was dancing around like a little girl. I put some of the perfume on, and instantly felt prettier and happier. When my nose had become accustomed to it, I had to have more. I probably applied it 3 times the first day, although my husband (repeatedly) assured me I didn't have to. (Not that he doesn't love it, because he does. A LOT. But the scent actually lasts!) But everytime I rubbed some on, my mood elevated. I didn't care that our house has turned into some kind of museum for toddler toys, and that it was 6:00pm and I had no idea what to do for dinner. Dinner? What's dinner? This stuff is like crack. I've only had it for 3 days, but it's now in my pocket at all times, and I'm always digging it out for a sniff. I'll sit and watch telly and just hold the cute little tin under my nose and inhale. Pretty soon I'll be freebasing this stuff. Hopefully the clever little elves at ST never stop making it, or every spring you may find me in the woods (or some random backyard, maybe yours) rubbing lilac blossoms all over me, howling like some feral animal.

http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=6124547

Oh, and they have all kinds of other tasty scents, too, just in case your parents are cousins and you don't like lilac.

Happy anniversary to me!

2009-05-13T15:07:00.004-05:00

So... it's now 3:00pm, and I JUST realized it's my 9 year wedding anniversary. Ooops. :-) Hubby is at work (yes, bringing home the soy bacon), the kids have been crabby and it's raining. My hair has yet to have a comb dragged through it and I'm wearing pajama pants that are older than the hills. What a glorious day!

Loving my duality

2009-05-12T04:38:00.002-05:00

100 years ago, I worked in a retail store. I started out at the jewelry counter and worked with Mary. She was thin, pretty and tan with a sweet little smile and perfect highlights. She always wore designer khakis with expensive but simple pastel tops. She was everyone's friend and would never talk about someone behind their backs, let alone right to their face. I wanted to be just like her.

Then I made the move to working overnight with the freaky freaks and trolls, unloading the truck and putting the merchendise out. I met Ann. She was a damn hippie with dreads, body hair (and odor) and ripped jeans. She told her boyfriend to fuck off almost daily, and would say the same to anyone else who looked at her judgementally (which was everyone). She followed Phish around the mid-west, smoked pot and rarely showered. And I wanted to be just like her.

So some days I'd say, "Screw it, I don't need a shower today," and be all pissy and confrontational. The next day I'd pull out my argyle socks and blow out my hair so it was straight and perfect. I couldn't figure out what I wanted to be. When I showed up somewhere in my Polo shirt and expensive rimless glasses, I'd see someone with tatoos and wish I'd left my bra and empathy at home. Of course the next time I'd go out in my heavy plastic glasses (before they were monster common) and no deoderant, I'd feel freakishly out of place and pine for opaque tights and Mary Janes. I could never get it right, and whatever I decided on felt wrong. Everybody I knew fit into their prescribed role, and were pretty one dimensional. (Although sometimes I wondered if Mary liked to be tied up...) I, on the other hand, couldn't figure myself out, and if I couldn't, how could anyone else?

Then one day it hit me. Why the hell do I have to choose? Can't I confuse people? Can't I be a feminist (albeit non-militant) and still want to be a stay at home mom to my two vegkids while my husband brings home the soy bacon? Can't I listen to The Clash and New Kids on the Block? Can't I be a nature-loving environmentalist and HATE camping? Because I am all these things. Some can call me a hypocrite, I like to think of myself as "multi-dimensional." I'm also staunchly anti-religion, but for some reason when I find out a guy is Jewish, I find him exponetially more interesting and sexy. I also LOVE Doris Day and all the rosy cheeked, apple pie-ness she represents, but I also love the sadomasochistic "Master and Servant" by Depeche Mode (and pretty much anything else they could ever do... except that appaling "Route 66" cover). Oh, and I don't take any shit from any guy, including my husband, and am far from submissive (and too lazy to be dominant), but I'm obsessed with the movie "Secretary" and sometimes (always) wish James Spader would spank me.... Meow...

OK....

2009-05-11T16:33:00.001-05:00

So... I've never wanted to do a blog. Never had the desire to read blogs. Thought they were pretty pointless. I mean, if you have something bouncing around in your head, either talk to your friends (if you have them), write in a journal, or shut up. But I am addicted to the internet. And from this addiction my grew need to spew every thought rolling around up there to anyone who will listen. Now I have such a problem, almost the second a thought comes in my head, I think, "Who would appreciate THIS?" So... here's the bl... blo.... ugh, I can barely say it. Here's the blog of just another vegetarian, atheist, pro-choice, Libertarian, twenty-something mom who's obsessed with new wave music and crocheting.

I started out with MySpace, but really, WHO is on MySpace anymore? I mean, that is sooo 2006. Then I got a Facebook page, but it was hard. I liked the summer-breakishness of MySpace. Then I got the hang of it and realized it was a better place for me to air my every waking thought. THEN... my mother-in-law joined. And the whole in-law clan. Then MY mother joined. Not that I don't love them, because I definately do. But, well... you know. I had to switch my religion from "atheist" to the slightly less subtle "Other." Had to stop with the swearing. And it's not that I'm necissarily a closet atheist... I'm sort of half way out, and the fam doesn't really know yet. I'm working up to telling them. Just not today.

Today a fellow Etsian asked me if I had a blog, and I started thinking, "Why not?" I could be all anonymous and cynical and pretentious. So thanks to Kitsch, you all can read my incredible entries and be amazed at how awesome I am. How awesome am I? I have no followers... THAT awesome.