Happy New Years Eve Everyone!
This morning I crawled out of bed after a wonderfully sound sleep following our 12 hour car trek from Atlanta to Cleveland. As I snuggled into my warm sheets and checked the time, I little brown dot caught my eye. And there it was. A bed bug. And one of his (hopefully few) friends.
AND SO ENDS 2013.
But really.
How does this happen to one person, two times, IN TWO DIFFERENT STATES NO LESS, 3 months apart?
So my New Years Eve Day will be spent with my mom and a laundromat. *bells, whistles.*
I'm ringing in the new year with a distinct sense that I am actually breeding bedbugs in my body somewhere and the worst buzz cut imaginable for my face shape. From a "first word problems" perspective, this is looking pretty bleak. But luckily for me, the bugs are only from our suitcases (damn you hotel) and I look bomb ass hot in beanies. I refuse to take this as any indication of how the following year will progress.
In an effort to make 2014 as bug free and stylish as possible, I've made some New Years resolutions that I'd like to share with you. But because it's only the 31st, you'll have to wait for tomorrow for those. Today, I will check in with my 2012 self's resolutions to see what marvelous progress I have made. Here we go.
1. Be able to do at least 1 pull up.
Nope. Let's not talk about it.
2. Actually vomit from drinking.
What was I thinking? I think its an achievement that this never happened...save for that one night with Pearl... you know what, let's not talk about this one either.
3. Volunteer.
Pass. Clearly I've made great strides this year.
4. Food.
SUCCESS! Its a work in progress, but I haven't weighed myself since Easter 2013 and I've only had like 3 meltdowns over cookies! And I'm not dieting. At all. Ahhh gold stars and self congratulatory praises!
5. Speak Up.
This year I realized that conversations are a 2 way street. I think it made a difference.
6. Do Work.
I did a clean quadruple pirouette at Hot Mikado auditions. It will never happen again. My work here is done.
6.5 Do not beat yourself up because you are not the most slender, graceful, powerful, flexible, stunning dancer in the world. Work with what you've got. Boom.
Yep. Backfired in me telling my ballet teacher that I don't like ballet. So I'm trying to resolve that. Doing well on that front though.
7. Work as a Barista at some point.
Nope. Though I did apply for several barista positions they value promptness and experience over my CPR and CPI certifications.
8. Write a play.
Aint nobody got time for that.
9. Date.
Yep. I now have more super cool gay friends and a separate collection of horror stories. I'm going to prematurely deem this successful. And ongoing. So hit me up.
10. Follow my gut.
I described this as "being less type A." And if that's the case, its a mixed bag. But overall, not too shabby.
So there ya go. My accomplishments and failures splayed out for the internet.
I gotta go do all my laundry. Literally. All my laundry.
Kaitlyn.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Spanish Dos No Es Divertido.
I considered doing a rapid fire tweet approach to studying for my Spanish test tomorrow, but I hate when people post like maniacs all over the feed. So I'm condensing all my Spanish bitching into a blog. If you're looking for my blog about a window, scroll down. Man, the quality of this thing has taken a dive. It's ok. Finals are coming. All I want to do is blog during finals. But here's this. Enjoy.
12:19
What the hell kind of textbook doesn't have a table of contents? I'm gonna need so many post-its.
..haha post-its sounds like post tits. I'm 14. It's fine.
12:25
Shits so hot motha fuckas gonna fiiiind me, that shit cray FOCUS. Are those even the right wordsFOCUS.
12:44
"Ningun/o/a/os/as/ (a)" why you gotta be so tricky? There are too many rules with you. I don't like it.
12:48
Balls, I never texted my mom back. She texted at like 8am. Crappers. Sorry mom.
12:50
Either my Spanish books smells like weed or I'm losing my mind.
"O mi libro de Espanol...smells... que weed o yo soy... losing my mind." Almost. Almost but not really.
1:00
Found my directors notebook instructions in my Spanish book. Too much stress in one place at one time. My shoulder blades are going to be stuck to my ears.
1:05
"dir" "har" Stupid.
1:10
I'm going to sleep like a rock on Grayhound tomorrow.
1:24
This summer I told my boss, "No I totally get shlepping, I'm a theatre major, I do a lot of weird stuff for money." It didn't occur to me until now why that's weird. I was thinking more along the lines of dressing up in full cat unitard to belt Memory at a college arts fest. Maybe I did that a few summers ago.
1:27
Showers are like fuel for studying.
1:47
And like magic for remembering the Italian in the aria you're singing tomorrow.
2:02
The wall has been hit. Good night all.
Kait
12:19
What the hell kind of textbook doesn't have a table of contents? I'm gonna need so many post-its.
..haha post-its sounds like post tits. I'm 14. It's fine.
12:25
Shits so hot motha fuckas gonna fiiiind me, that shit cray FOCUS. Are those even the right wordsFOCUS.
12:44
"Ningun/o/a/os/as/ (a)" why you gotta be so tricky? There are too many rules with you. I don't like it.
12:48
Balls, I never texted my mom back. She texted at like 8am. Crappers. Sorry mom.
12:50
Either my Spanish books smells like weed or I'm losing my mind.
"O mi libro de Espanol...smells... que weed o yo soy... losing my mind." Almost. Almost but not really.
1:00
Found my directors notebook instructions in my Spanish book. Too much stress in one place at one time. My shoulder blades are going to be stuck to my ears.
1:05
"dir" "har" Stupid.
1:10
I'm going to sleep like a rock on Grayhound tomorrow.
1:24
This summer I told my boss, "No I totally get shlepping, I'm a theatre major, I do a lot of weird stuff for money." It didn't occur to me until now why that's weird. I was thinking more along the lines of dressing up in full cat unitard to belt Memory at a college arts fest. Maybe I did that a few summers ago.
1:27
Showers are like fuel for studying.
1:47
And like magic for remembering the Italian in the aria you're singing tomorrow.
2:02
The wall has been hit. Good night all.
Kait
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Bay Window
Quote of the Day: "We've reached wigvana" -The lovely Kari and I on the perfection of Olivia's wig.
Quote of the Day II: "Is it a problem that I'm more attracted to mac and cheese than I am to human beings?" -The Queer Council on gay dating.
I think I may have mentioned this previously, but I do all my writing (also eating, homeworking, movie watching, visiting, etc.) from the same chair at our table in front of this lovely bay window that overlooks the street. I like to open all the windows because the view is very "Romantic Manhattan." We've got a clear shot down an ally, phone lines connecting rows of brownstone apartments, tree limbs that dangle in front of the glass, property fences, chain link fences, street signs, and the occasional arrest or drunk college student. Sometimes all in one unlucky person. I like being in this room because it's like being in a submarine or Star Trek spaceship. The ultimate fly on the wall position. Which I love. At least until I realize that windows are windows and as much as I enjoy the view, anyone can see in. Literally the neighborhood can see me live out 50% of my home life. The other 50% is spent sleeping. Usually with the window open so really it's not an improvement.
One day this summer I had just biked home from work on a blazing hot day. I have very little tolerance for shifts in temperature. I am happy as a clam from upper 50s to mid 70s. Chicago gets this for like, a week and a half every year. Maybe. I come from a long line of sweaty ladies, so this whole physical activity in the sun in the heat in my Orthodox Jewish garb absolutely necessitates stripping down to a bra and shorts within seconds of entering my apartment. I made myself a bite to eat and sat in my spot to wind down and have dinner. I didn't realize until about a half hour in. Made direct eye contact with a woman walking her dog. To that, I was wearing a pink bra with a bow on it. Because when your chest measures smaller than it did in 5th grade, you buy your bras in the children's section of target. Pink is inevitable. And they all have bows. If you try to cut off the bows, sometimes the bra breaks in half. So you cut your losses. You can counter act this by making a point to not wear any pink on the outside of your body ever.
Tonight the bay window is looking pretty damn handsome. I've developed an obsessive love of candles and have some fancy holiday ones in clear display. To add ambiance, I plugged in my roommate's strings of colored lights. It looks like I'm on a date, with myself, in the red light district. I dig it. It's freezing so I've busted out my favorite waffle shirt. It was my brothers and it has a yellow anarchy symbol spray painted on the front. And it doesn't smell like sweaty dude. So that's nice. And anyone who might be stalkerishly watching me has seen me down two bottles of tea in the past hour. Because there's nothing wrong with being really hydrated.
And we have bloody hands on our window pane. The end.
This is how to not write your directors notebook. Because when you put your mind to it, (not when you're gushing about your favorite window) you're a much better writer than you are a director.
Good night friends,
Kait
Quote of the Day II: "Is it a problem that I'm more attracted to mac and cheese than I am to human beings?" -The Queer Council on gay dating.
I think I may have mentioned this previously, but I do all my writing (also eating, homeworking, movie watching, visiting, etc.) from the same chair at our table in front of this lovely bay window that overlooks the street. I like to open all the windows because the view is very "Romantic Manhattan." We've got a clear shot down an ally, phone lines connecting rows of brownstone apartments, tree limbs that dangle in front of the glass, property fences, chain link fences, street signs, and the occasional arrest or drunk college student. Sometimes all in one unlucky person. I like being in this room because it's like being in a submarine or Star Trek spaceship. The ultimate fly on the wall position. Which I love. At least until I realize that windows are windows and as much as I enjoy the view, anyone can see in. Literally the neighborhood can see me live out 50% of my home life. The other 50% is spent sleeping. Usually with the window open so really it's not an improvement.
One day this summer I had just biked home from work on a blazing hot day. I have very little tolerance for shifts in temperature. I am happy as a clam from upper 50s to mid 70s. Chicago gets this for like, a week and a half every year. Maybe. I come from a long line of sweaty ladies, so this whole physical activity in the sun in the heat in my Orthodox Jewish garb absolutely necessitates stripping down to a bra and shorts within seconds of entering my apartment. I made myself a bite to eat and sat in my spot to wind down and have dinner. I didn't realize until about a half hour in. Made direct eye contact with a woman walking her dog. To that, I was wearing a pink bra with a bow on it. Because when your chest measures smaller than it did in 5th grade, you buy your bras in the children's section of target. Pink is inevitable. And they all have bows. If you try to cut off the bows, sometimes the bra breaks in half. So you cut your losses. You can counter act this by making a point to not wear any pink on the outside of your body ever.
Tonight the bay window is looking pretty damn handsome. I've developed an obsessive love of candles and have some fancy holiday ones in clear display. To add ambiance, I plugged in my roommate's strings of colored lights. It looks like I'm on a date, with myself, in the red light district. I dig it. It's freezing so I've busted out my favorite waffle shirt. It was my brothers and it has a yellow anarchy symbol spray painted on the front. And it doesn't smell like sweaty dude. So that's nice. And anyone who might be stalkerishly watching me has seen me down two bottles of tea in the past hour. Because there's nothing wrong with being really hydrated.
And we have bloody hands on our window pane. The end.
This is how to not write your directors notebook. Because when you put your mind to it, (not when you're gushing about your favorite window) you're a much better writer than you are a director.
Good night friends,
Kait
Monday, November 18, 2013
Tattoos.
Aye.
I have too much work to be writing this blog. Yolo. (oof, I have no intent of bringing that back. so you know.)
But I have been writing academic stuff all night and it's starting to get real scatterbrained. So I'm switching to this.
I think I want to get a tattoo for my brother. It's super cliche and stuff, but there's something appealing about having a symbol or phrase permanently etched into my skin that reminds me of him. It's like keeping his spirit alive. Sort of. Also it's bad ass and he would support it a hundred percent I think.
Problem is, I'm not quite as impulsively ballsy as Nick was and I definitely have a better understanding of consequences than he did. Like what if I hate it in like 10 years. I'm kinda stuck. Also I pass out nearly every time I give blood because, despite my expert covering of the anxiety needles give me, needles cutting my skin really freaks my shit.
Despite that, I've had several ideas in the past 3 years. And here they are.
1) "Those you love and lost still walk behind you" etched into my foot.
I have too much work to be writing this blog. Yolo. (oof, I have no intent of bringing that back. so you know.)
But I have been writing academic stuff all night and it's starting to get real scatterbrained. So I'm switching to this.
I think I want to get a tattoo for my brother. It's super cliche and stuff, but there's something appealing about having a symbol or phrase permanently etched into my skin that reminds me of him. It's like keeping his spirit alive. Sort of. Also it's bad ass and he would support it a hundred percent I think.
Problem is, I'm not quite as impulsively ballsy as Nick was and I definitely have a better understanding of consequences than he did. Like what if I hate it in like 10 years. I'm kinda stuck. Also I pass out nearly every time I give blood because, despite my expert covering of the anxiety needles give me, needles cutting my skin really freaks my shit.
Despite that, I've had several ideas in the past 3 years. And here they are.
1) "Those you love and lost still walk behind you" etched into my foot.
- Self explanatory. And it's on my foot and it's about walking, get it? And it's from my favorite musical. Problems: Is it creepy if I ever get cast in said musical and just happen to have a really heavy, personal show from the quote permanently inked into my foot? Also Nick didn't like musicals. So there's that. Also the question of font choice.
2) "Life is what happens to you when you're out making other plans" painfully scarred into my shoulder blade.
- Because if I were a little more relaxed, it would be my motto. Actually, this one is mostly just for me. But it is a quote from the Beatles. And Nick liked the Beatles. They weren't his favorite band, but I am definitely not getting something written by a death metal band. Nope. Nope. Side note, I really don't like the song "Beautiful Boy" (where the quote is from) so the regret potential is like, a 7 or 8. Out of 10.
3) A small autumn maple leaf on the underside of my forearm.
- Location: There's a lot to be said for having something beautiful and red on my arm. I like that there's no words, symbols seems better to explain. Fall is my favorite season. Nick died in October and I remember coming home for the funeral and loving how bright the leaves were. I associate fall leaves with the woods between the high school and Nick's elementary school. Also with marching band. Nick was a very talented musician and we were in marching band together for a year. Some of my favorite memories of him are from band and I really like the idea of incorporating music into this. but I don't want to do a musical symbol. My only concerns are that from far away it will look like a scrape or something. So I was thinking about going for a more brownish color? I dunno. This is the front runner so far.
Also, just in general, it might be problematic to get a dead brother tattoo of any sort. I mean, it might be a bit of a bummer. If not for me, for anyone who knows who it symbolizes. Mulling it over. Please feel free to give suggestions, advice, ideas? Yep yep. Ugh. I should maybe get back to my directing notebook.
Yeah no, I can't leave you on that heavy a note. That's just not responsible. So I gave myself a haircut yesterday. Not like my typical scissors to bangs, I buzzed it. Not bald, mom you can relax now. Mostly I have myself a shattily done fade. But I'm diggin it. I just need to fix the top. Cause I have literally one curl that is just popping out of my head. And, while I love this, it's a tad out of place.
Kait
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Gettin' Festive
Happy 30 degrees Chicago!
This happens every year. And I bitch about it every year. Maybe if I pretend that I'm happy about it online, it will translate to my actual life.
Haven't done this in a while, but I have TWO fantastic quotes of the day. Yesterday my lovely friend Elaine and I went to We Will Rock You at the Palace. During intermission I went to the bathroom. Now if you've ever tried to take a wiz during intermission at one of the big houses downtown you've experienced the bathroom ushers. Their sole mission is to make peeing the most anxiety provoking experience of your life. The woman in the stall next to me would shout "I'm still peeing, please wait... I'm still peeing, please wait" every five seconds or so. Amen girl. As if the quote gods hadn't smiled on me enough, there was more. In the second act of the musical the romantic leads start making out and then the stage blacks out. In the moment before the applause the gentleman behind me explains to his wife, "that means they had sex." Day, made.
So my battle cry of the past few weeks has been GETTIN' FESTIVE. And I think of it in all caps every time I say it. This is one of my favorite times of the year. I love being outside in the autumn. It feels like the world is getting ready for bed. Autumn is a 30 minute before bed shower where no one runs the dishwasher or takes a shit while your basking in the warmth.
And that's worth celebrating. Get festive with me.
Nay, GET FESTIVE with me.
I understand if you're having trouble motivating your one man festivity train. It's no easy task. I'm in college, I have classes and work and homework after that. But fear not fellow students. Allow me to share some of my favorite fall daily festivities with you. I could write for Better Homes and Gardens with this wording. Get ready.
1. Festive Candles. You know what makes a room instantly fancier? A lit candle. I write this from my cluttered little bedroom with a scented candle that is making the room smell like nostalgia itself. Like little house on the prairie. Only I have the internet and they had scarlet fever.
2. Festive Tea. You know what I really love about fall? Pumpkin Spice Lattes. But those puppies are 5 bucks a pop. And I work part time. Solution: Festive tea. Don't feel like waking up for that 8:30am Spanish class? Me neither. Like ever. But it's way better if you walk there clutching to a mug of home steeped "apple spice" tea.
3. Festive Music. My pandora recommendations are Mumford and Sons, Lumineers, Time for Three, Blackbird, Iron and Wine, and anything that has "Rocky Mountains" or "Portland" in the title. Basically as long as the musicians are exceptionally hairy, barefoot, and/or playing their music under a tree, it's a safe bet.
4. Festive Bakery. I shop at Aldi. Aldi is good at getting festive. Every week when I go to do my grocery shopping I am confronted with so much festive bakery on sale. Last week I made pumpkin spice cookies, tonight they were selling maple leaf cookies and pumpkin spice bread mixes. Having lots of yummy bakery in the apartment makes me anxious, so I bring it to work or give it as a spontaneous gift. Really everyone wins here.
5. Festive Food. Now that I'm done with Yonkers, I have time to cook. This is glorious. I haven't yet, but I have plans in the works for gourd based meals. Squash, pumpkin, raisins, apples, brown sugar. Cannot wait.
6. Festive Flannel. If I had my druthers I would wear flannel all the time. I've always been drawn to flannel, and then I found out it was about the gayest article of clothing one can own. Que lots of thrift store trips. And for the next few months, everyone else will be on board with my fashion statement. It would be a crime to let this opportunity pass.
So instead of (or in addition to) crabbing about how f*cking cold it is outside, enjoy the self propelled festivity.
Kaitlyn
This happens every year. And I bitch about it every year. Maybe if I pretend that I'm happy about it online, it will translate to my actual life.
Haven't done this in a while, but I have TWO fantastic quotes of the day. Yesterday my lovely friend Elaine and I went to We Will Rock You at the Palace. During intermission I went to the bathroom. Now if you've ever tried to take a wiz during intermission at one of the big houses downtown you've experienced the bathroom ushers. Their sole mission is to make peeing the most anxiety provoking experience of your life. The woman in the stall next to me would shout "I'm still peeing, please wait... I'm still peeing, please wait" every five seconds or so. Amen girl. As if the quote gods hadn't smiled on me enough, there was more. In the second act of the musical the romantic leads start making out and then the stage blacks out. In the moment before the applause the gentleman behind me explains to his wife, "that means they had sex." Day, made.
So my battle cry of the past few weeks has been GETTIN' FESTIVE. And I think of it in all caps every time I say it. This is one of my favorite times of the year. I love being outside in the autumn. It feels like the world is getting ready for bed. Autumn is a 30 minute before bed shower where no one runs the dishwasher or takes a shit while your basking in the warmth.
And that's worth celebrating. Get festive with me.
Nay, GET FESTIVE with me.
I understand if you're having trouble motivating your one man festivity train. It's no easy task. I'm in college, I have classes and work and homework after that. But fear not fellow students. Allow me to share some of my favorite fall daily festivities with you. I could write for Better Homes and Gardens with this wording. Get ready.
1. Festive Candles. You know what makes a room instantly fancier? A lit candle. I write this from my cluttered little bedroom with a scented candle that is making the room smell like nostalgia itself. Like little house on the prairie. Only I have the internet and they had scarlet fever.
2. Festive Tea. You know what I really love about fall? Pumpkin Spice Lattes. But those puppies are 5 bucks a pop. And I work part time. Solution: Festive tea. Don't feel like waking up for that 8:30am Spanish class? Me neither. Like ever. But it's way better if you walk there clutching to a mug of home steeped "apple spice" tea.
3. Festive Music. My pandora recommendations are Mumford and Sons, Lumineers, Time for Three, Blackbird, Iron and Wine, and anything that has "Rocky Mountains" or "Portland" in the title. Basically as long as the musicians are exceptionally hairy, barefoot, and/or playing their music under a tree, it's a safe bet.
4. Festive Bakery. I shop at Aldi. Aldi is good at getting festive. Every week when I go to do my grocery shopping I am confronted with so much festive bakery on sale. Last week I made pumpkin spice cookies, tonight they were selling maple leaf cookies and pumpkin spice bread mixes. Having lots of yummy bakery in the apartment makes me anxious, so I bring it to work or give it as a spontaneous gift. Really everyone wins here.
5. Festive Food. Now that I'm done with Yonkers, I have time to cook. This is glorious. I haven't yet, but I have plans in the works for gourd based meals. Squash, pumpkin, raisins, apples, brown sugar. Cannot wait.
6. Festive Flannel. If I had my druthers I would wear flannel all the time. I've always been drawn to flannel, and then I found out it was about the gayest article of clothing one can own. Que lots of thrift store trips. And for the next few months, everyone else will be on board with my fashion statement. It would be a crime to let this opportunity pass.
So instead of (or in addition to) crabbing about how f*cking cold it is outside, enjoy the self propelled festivity.
Kaitlyn
Friday, October 18, 2013
Funny Brother Stories
Ello Chapsticks,
So yesterday marked my little brother Nick's 3 year deathiversary (for details, see my posts from late spring of this year). I'm not particularly good at timing sadness to strike me on a particular date, so I had a relatively painless week. Plus my friends have been checking in with me because they're lovely. But I have been thinking about him a lot the past couple weeks, and in celebration of his life I am going to tell you some laughable stories from our childhood.
And in honor of the season of pumpkin, they are all food themed! So enjoy that!
Our parents have been on a health kick since whole wheat bread was invented, so Nick and I grew up with a lot of stir fried veggies for dinner and granola bars for dessert. Mind you, now I would KILL for a meal that isn't eaten on my way to class or from a microwavable bag, but at the time I just wanted some Mac and Cheese. So when junk food was in the house, you had to act fast or suffer in whole wheat agony until the next holiday. One incident I remember in particular was when my dad brought home a carton of Malted Milk Balls. Nick and I waged a literal game of capture the flag complete with decoy messages, loud music to thwart any attempts at sneaking, and beating each other to ground to get a hold of them.
My dad went on this crazy fiber diet circa 2005, right around the time that protein bars and health shakes were getting popular. One day my mom found these delicious Fiber One bars at Sams Club and bought them in bulk. Now there hadn't been chocolate in the house in weeks and these things had chocolate chips in them. Neither of us paid much attention to the text proudly boasting that this one little chocolate bar contained 40% of your daily recommended fiber. We were so used to our parents buying boring food, we were just jazzed about the chocolate component. In a moment of weakness brought on by weeks of deprivation, Nick at five of them. In one sitting. Hours later he emerged from the bathroom looking pretty haggard. He never did it again.
I don't have a great transition into this little anecdote, but it's too memorable for me to not mention. Nick and I had a mutual love of white bread because all my parents bought was this dry Brownberry Whole Wheat bread. (Super delicious, but again, we were 10). So for every birthday and Christmas we would take our $5 a week allowance and buy each other a loaf of white bread. I considered leaving a loaf on his grave, but then I pictured it all moldy and rain soaked.
Speaking of Birthdays and Christmas, every Easter my family bakes these pound cakes in the shape of a bunny and a lamb. Because we're Polish as Perogies. Anyhow, the bunny was sufficiently cuter and since Nick was a baby and wined about it, he always got to decorate the bunny. When we were little we got to frost them, dye some coconut, and sprinkle it on there so your lamb or bunny had a nice pastel hue to it. I am a square, so my lamb was always baby blue with black jelly bean eyes and a kindhearted, holiday oriented, smile. When Nick was in middle school he made the bunny blood red with fangs and some sort of skin condition.
That same year he drew dicks and pagan symbols in white crayon on all our eater eggs before we dyed them. Mom was none too pleased.
One of my favorite Nick stories is how every time we went out to eat at a restaurant if there was a cute waitress, he would try to order alcohol. Now Nick is three years younger than me and he checked out before 17, so he was never anywhere near legal drinking age. Usually the waitress laughed it off he got a Coke, but this one time we were at Applebees I think and the waitress actually wrote down his order and started to walk off. I don't know how this girl thought he was serious because he ordered the Bond drink every time, "I'll have a martini, shaken. Not stirred." She finally decided that maybe this little asshat is in middle school and, much to his chagrin, didn't bring him the drink.
Here's to you kid. I miss you, and love you. Remember, you posted this picture to facebook. Not me. And let's be frank, you knew there was no way you were getting a classy memorial blog from me. You're welcome.
Well that's all for today. But expect more. Obviously not all food themed, but we did plenty of suburban kid shenanigans that I will definitely be writing about on here at some point. Enjoy the chilly weekend! Get some pumpkin stuff, bust out your scarves, do fall!
Kait
So yesterday marked my little brother Nick's 3 year deathiversary (for details, see my posts from late spring of this year). I'm not particularly good at timing sadness to strike me on a particular date, so I had a relatively painless week. Plus my friends have been checking in with me because they're lovely. But I have been thinking about him a lot the past couple weeks, and in celebration of his life I am going to tell you some laughable stories from our childhood.
And in honor of the season of pumpkin, they are all food themed! So enjoy that!
Our parents have been on a health kick since whole wheat bread was invented, so Nick and I grew up with a lot of stir fried veggies for dinner and granola bars for dessert. Mind you, now I would KILL for a meal that isn't eaten on my way to class or from a microwavable bag, but at the time I just wanted some Mac and Cheese. So when junk food was in the house, you had to act fast or suffer in whole wheat agony until the next holiday. One incident I remember in particular was when my dad brought home a carton of Malted Milk Balls. Nick and I waged a literal game of capture the flag complete with decoy messages, loud music to thwart any attempts at sneaking, and beating each other to ground to get a hold of them.
My dad went on this crazy fiber diet circa 2005, right around the time that protein bars and health shakes were getting popular. One day my mom found these delicious Fiber One bars at Sams Club and bought them in bulk. Now there hadn't been chocolate in the house in weeks and these things had chocolate chips in them. Neither of us paid much attention to the text proudly boasting that this one little chocolate bar contained 40% of your daily recommended fiber. We were so used to our parents buying boring food, we were just jazzed about the chocolate component. In a moment of weakness brought on by weeks of deprivation, Nick at five of them. In one sitting. Hours later he emerged from the bathroom looking pretty haggard. He never did it again.
I don't have a great transition into this little anecdote, but it's too memorable for me to not mention. Nick and I had a mutual love of white bread because all my parents bought was this dry Brownberry Whole Wheat bread. (Super delicious, but again, we were 10). So for every birthday and Christmas we would take our $5 a week allowance and buy each other a loaf of white bread. I considered leaving a loaf on his grave, but then I pictured it all moldy and rain soaked.
Speaking of Birthdays and Christmas, every Easter my family bakes these pound cakes in the shape of a bunny and a lamb. Because we're Polish as Perogies. Anyhow, the bunny was sufficiently cuter and since Nick was a baby and wined about it, he always got to decorate the bunny. When we were little we got to frost them, dye some coconut, and sprinkle it on there so your lamb or bunny had a nice pastel hue to it. I am a square, so my lamb was always baby blue with black jelly bean eyes and a kindhearted, holiday oriented, smile. When Nick was in middle school he made the bunny blood red with fangs and some sort of skin condition.
That same year he drew dicks and pagan symbols in white crayon on all our eater eggs before we dyed them. Mom was none too pleased.
One of my favorite Nick stories is how every time we went out to eat at a restaurant if there was a cute waitress, he would try to order alcohol. Now Nick is three years younger than me and he checked out before 17, so he was never anywhere near legal drinking age. Usually the waitress laughed it off he got a Coke, but this one time we were at Applebees I think and the waitress actually wrote down his order and started to walk off. I don't know how this girl thought he was serious because he ordered the Bond drink every time, "I'll have a martini, shaken. Not stirred." She finally decided that maybe this little asshat is in middle school and, much to his chagrin, didn't bring him the drink.
Here's to you kid. I miss you, and love you. Remember, you posted this picture to facebook. Not me. And let's be frank, you knew there was no way you were getting a classy memorial blog from me. You're welcome.
Well that's all for today. But expect more. Obviously not all food themed, but we did plenty of suburban kid shenanigans that I will definitely be writing about on here at some point. Enjoy the chilly weekend! Get some pumpkin stuff, bust out your scarves, do fall!
Kait
Monday, September 30, 2013
Bed Bugs
Also known as the worst creatures on this planet.
Actual hell on earth.
I'm about to use all the four letter words. And delve too far into my personal life. Immaturity at it's finest. You've been warned.
Last Monday night I was chilling in my bed reading a book for a few hours before bed. Noticed that I had an unusual number of little red bug bites on my one leg. Thought, "huh, that's weird, maybe you should check your sheets to see if there's a spider or something." Found a bed bug. Didn't realize it was a bed bug till I googled in the next morning and found a picture of that little fucker. World collapsed promptly.
In case you don't know much about bedbugs, allow me to scare the piss out of you. They are everywhere all the time. You're exposed to them everyday, especially if you live in a city. Then sometimes you just happen to track in a baby or an egg somewhere on your clothes. It feeds on you for a while then burrows into your mattress, bed frame, pillows, wood floors, and carpet to spawn and ruin your life. They are nocturnal, so you're safe during the day. But once the sun goes down, they smell your body sleeping, find you, and eat you.
Oh, and most people don't even know they have um, cause they're nocturnal.
To get rid of them, you have to call an exterminator. To prep for said exterminator, you wash every piece of fabric in your house (clothes, sheets, pillows, coats, curtains, bags, etc), double bag um in garbage bags, and finally pile all your shit into the middle of your living room to clear the perimeter of every room.
Quite seriously a living nightmare. And Sam and I were in tech for Yonkers that week. Fan-fucking-tastic timing.
However, there is a silver lining to everything. In retrospect, I recount Highlights of The Great Bedbug "Infestation" of 2013.
1. When I first called my building supervisor to tell him I had bedbugs, he asked who slept over to give them to me. Upon telling him that no one has been over, he asked where I've been sleeping. Answer: In my own bed. So thanks Dwayne for reminding me that I'm not getting laid, I'm in tech, AND I HAVE BEDBUGS. Ew, sorry that was too personal for the internet. But it's too good a saying to not share. You're welcome.
2. Emily and I not realizing that we had to bag our laundry so we hung it all over the infested house. Aaaaaand repeat.
3. Emily and I sharing the futon for two nights. She's an excellent bed buddy.
4. Our family picture of our infested stuffed animals. They got hell'a fluffy in the dryer. It was adorable.
5. Sam and I tag teamed our laundry together at a laundromat six blocks away from our apartment. We carried it there in like 4 trips total. We looked like homeless vagabonds wandering through the allies of Chicago.
6. On said laundry trip, I wore basketball shorts, a sports T, and sandals. I named my outfit: "Gay Aunt Barbra goes to the beach."
7. Sam stress drank half a gallon of lemon aid. Jack was added later.
8. My neurotic tendencies flourished. I was convinced I had thousands of them in my hair, on ALL my clothes, in my shoes, probably burrowed into my skin ready to attack and spread to everyone at any moment. This made it kind of hard to do laundry and actually believe that I'd cleaned it. I would compare this to my high school logic of why huffing Lysol (never happened, no worries) to prevent getting a cold would probably work really well and be totally healthy.
9. Getting an average of 3 hours of sleep a night for a week. I was so tired today that my eyes couldn't focus enough to spot a pirouette. But the one night I got 7 hours of sleep I was literally euphoric.
10. My outfits for the past few days have involved only 2 shirts that I just keep washing. And my gayest sandals. Hot.
Which brings us to today. 3 Days bug free. I unpacked my laundry and am keeping it in the living room for a few days. But at least I know where my clothes are. Literally the best feeling in the world.
Also HUGE THANK YOU to Gillian McGhee for being our bedbug point woman/expert/moral support. I sent her countless frantic texts (some in the middle of the night) which she promptly responded to and cried to her on the phone for like half an hour. Life saver.
Also HUGE THANK YOU to Gillian McGhee for being our bedbug point woman/expert/moral support. I sent her countless frantic texts (some in the middle of the night) which she promptly responded to and cried to her on the phone for like half an hour. Life saver.
Hope you were able to get some enjoyment from the week of hell my roommates and I just went through. Before I sign off I have to at least mention Lost in Yonkers. Cause that's happening this weekend. It's hysterical. Everyone go see it. That's all.
Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite.
Kaitlyn
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