The Potty Patrol

When I first met Matt, one of the things that impressed me about him was the fact that he would always clean the bathroom at his apartment before I came over (It's the little things - right ladies?). So many men do not understand the importance of a clean bathroom. I have been over to male-inhabited apartments where, after using the restroom, I felt like I needed to soak myself in bleach and scrub off the nasty with some steel wool....and the smell...oh Sweet-Jesus, the smell. I shudder just to think about it.

Women, on the other hand, are anal (pun intended) about the cleanliness and smell of their home restrooms. We use plug-in air fresheners and reed diffusers for the illusion that our ass smells like cucumber-melon-apple-mango-pumpkin-spice. We put fluffy brightly colored rugs on the floor that match our meticulously hand-picked shower curtain. The soap dish matches the toothbrush holder which, in turn, matches the brightly colored rug. We buy designer soaps that are for show rather than use and we hide any deodorant, ointments, douche or tampons because we would rather die than for someone to see that we actually use such products.

We display our 15 bottles of lotion from Bath and Body works like trophies. Never mind that we got every bottle as a gift and that 3/4 of the bottles have never even been opened. Hell, we may not even like the smell of some of the lotions, but we will still exhibit our collection with pride. We buy the softest, most expensive towels for both display (to match the shower curtain, duh) and to dry our wet bodies after a long shower. After use of the towels, we gently fold them and drape them over the towel rack next to the sink.

We do all of these things, and yet, women's public restrooms are some of the most disgusting and vile places on earth. Is it because we keep our home restrooms so pristine?

I honestly cannot comprehend why a woman would wipe feces or snot on a restroom stall wall when the same woman would crucify her husband for leaving beard shavings in the sink at home. Even more disturbing is the fact that people behave this way at work. It boggles my mind why someone would use the restroom at their place of employment, urinate on the toilet seat, drop any and all used tp on the floor, not flush, leave the stall, wash their hands and return to their desk as though nothing ever happened. Do people get a rush out of being repulsive?

I don't like "away games" any more than the next gal, but if I have to make some #2 at the office, I do so as quickly and discreetly as possible while attempting to leave the least amount of trace evidence possible. I do this not only for my fellow employee, but also for myself. I just don't want to be around the nastiness the next time I have to go.

Ladies, we keep our restrooms at home so nice that we could eat off the toilet seat and sleep on the rug - our towels are nicer than hotel comforters. Can we join together and make a pact to keep our public restrooms at least clean enough to keep our gag reflex suppressed? We deserve to keep our bare asses free from mystery seat moisture! It's a Restroom Revolution! Who is with me?

Nerd Glasses

My new glasses are wicked-awesome. That is all.

Yes. We. Can.

After much turmoil...I think I have decided where to place my vote on this Super Tuesday. I have been torn....but have made my decision.





I will be headed to the polls after work. Make sure you vote.

It's Raining Cats and Dogs

With the exception of my job situation, things are actually going pretty well in Casa De KC. Since Matt has moved in, we have been getting along pretty well considering that neither one of us have done the “living in sin” thing before. We are definitely still figuring each other out but we really have not fought badly – which is a great sign.

While Matt and I are doing well, Matt and the other inhabitants of my apartment are still developing a working relationship. The dog is easy. Mojo is pretty chill and when he does something annoying, his smooshy little face and his big bug eyes have enough emotion to melt even the coldest of hearts.

(Ppppttthhhhbbbbbb!)

Karma, on the other hand is a bit of a challenge (and by “challenge,” I mean she is the devil incarnate and will rip your eyes out of their sockets while you sleep if you so much as look at her sideways). I once had a friend come to visit from out of state. She brought her boyfriend over and Karma jumped up on his lap and lay down. Cute, right? Not so much when kitty responds to touch with growling and the patent-pending Power-Hiss. (It is powerful both in sound and smell as she has the worst breath I have ever smelled on another creature. Ever.) When he tried to push her off his lap, she scratched at him. My friend and I, of course, responded to his cries for help with laughter and ridicule because we are sensitive and caring like that.

(Note the distain in her eyes...and the half Hiltler mustache...as she blocks me from my bills)

Not only is Karma a raging bitch to most guests, but she hates Matt with a passion. Lucky him. For now, they ignore one another as best they can – and I can only hope that they are able to continue their indifference-based relationship. After all, Matt would look funny with his eyes scratched out – and I don’t think Karma would fare so well after being thrown out a window.

How Could I not?

Despite my beloved Chicago Bears taking a turn for the suckage this year, I was actually excited to watch the Superbowl. I was rooting for the Giants - and they delivered! It was a great game and exciting down to the last minute - everything you could want in a Superbowl game. I even enjoyed Tom Petty's performance! There was really only one thing missing - good commercials.

Being in the ad industry, I actually watch the spots - and the Superbowl is supposed to be a time when everyone else does too. I have to say, though, that the last 2 years have been very disappointing when it comes to quality advertising. There were a couple mildly humorous spots last night - but nothing spectacular.


Whatever happened to the clever ads that had everyone talking the next day? Anyone else miss spots like this one?




Just for fun - here is the Miller High Life Guy (Wendall) talking about last night's commercials. Happy Freakin' Monday.

I am totally "That Guy"

For those of you that a)know me IRL and b)know about this blog - you know that I love going to see live music. Going to concerts has been a favorite pasttime since Jr. High when my mother took me and a few friends to go see Collective Soul at the Hard Rock Cafe in Chicago. (Oh like you had great taste in music in Jr. High - I heard you snicker)

No matter what kind of music I was into - I went to all the shows. In Jr. High, I rocked out to Collective Soul, Candlebox, Offspring, Pearl Jam, Violent Femmes and even Bob Dylan. (Ecclectic!) In High School, I saw Soundgarden and countless Ska shows before my tastes changed and I was drawn towards the Jam Band Scene. It was at this point that I began to get bitter and annoyed with other fans. You see, despite the fact that my musical tastes were of the neo-hippy variety - I have always been far too much of a bitch to embrace the "I love everyone" mentality. I don't love everyone. In fact, most people are assholes, myself included. Besides, it is far more entertaining to mock the hippy dance (video example below) than to hug a tree.



While I still loves me some Grateful Dead, Phish, Widespread Panic and Gov't Mule, I find that their fans piss me off to no end. I have been to the shows where everyone camps for the weekend. To me, camping with good friends after a good concert should be the recipe for a fantastic time...until you add in all the neo-hippy-moochers. I have literally been offered 3 crayons and a shoelace in exchange for a Heinekin. I have also had a girl stop and openly weep over my portable grill as I flipped my "death burger." Seriously, hippies, wtf?

I understand that "sharing" is part of the culture at these shows, and I have (on more than one occasion) wanted to "share" my deoderant with some of these people. I do not, however, care to share my beer, tent, money, food or blankets with other campers in exchange for anything other than money. I didn't buy my sandwich with good karma, dammit. I bought it with money I worked for and earned. I cannot subscribe to the ideology that because I decide to go to a show, I now must share everything that I paid for with idiots on drugs. I'm not gonna lie, I have been to shows on drugs (in my younger days), but never, ever, did I wander up to someone else's car and ask for a free beer.

I must be a glutton for punishment, because I continue to go to shows on a regular basis. I will continue to get mad at the flailing hippy and his cracked out arm that inevitably hits me in the boob. I will always be the one to death stare at the Trixie behind me that just has to call her friend in the middle of a song to scream (more in my ear than into her phone) about what a great time she is having.

I want to start a revolution! I dream of one day going to shows where the crowd is actually there to listen to the music being played - a crowd that is respectful of others that paid good money to see an artist perform - a crowed that picks up after itself and doesn't smell like a combination of BO and foot. I dream of...of...Ravinia. Shit...I am old.

Nominees for the worst dressed list

Some might say that I have a mild to moderate obsession with Bravo's Project Runway. I fell in love with the show after watching the first episode of the first season. Though I have no fashion sense whatsoever, I was immediately aching to be Jay McCarroll's "fag hag." I wanted to go hang out in the work room at Parson's School for Design and make catty remarks about inferior design talent. I became the fashion critic equivalent of a backseat driver as I watched and commented on the "lay of the fabric" or the color campatability of the whatchoomacallit with the light reflection against the whosawhats. I had NO idea what I was talking about - and I didn't care. I was hooked.

Many people love the show, so my adoration may not be such a big deal were it not for my complete lack of fashion sense. I wish I was kidding, but I literally have no idea how to dress myself. I have no sense of style, and the thought of shopping often makes me nauseous. Part of my current fashion retardation stems from the fact that i have gained some weight (especially since not smoking has given me the urge to eat constantly) and don't particularly revel in the thought of buying clothes in my current size. That said, I get home from work on Wednesdays - put on fleece sweatpants & a t-shirt, whip my hair into a ponytail and proceed to become the most vicious couch critic in the history of fashion.

"That hem is atrocious!," I might say or "I can't believe he would send THAT down the runway!"

Of course, if any of the budding designers on the show were able to see me and my standard uniform of jeans, tank top and a cardigan, they would probably scream little girly screams whilst scratching at their eyes in order to avoid having such bad fashion permanently burned into their retinas. Someone that willingly buys clothes from Old Navy or *gasp* Target (such as myself) are probably a creature from their worst nightmare.

Thing is, even if I had the money to spend on designer duds, I would have no idea what to buy. Knowing me, if someone were to actually give me money and tell me to go buy something "fashion forward" - I would end up looking like this



rather than this.



Where do I seek help for this complete and total style stupidity? Can trend be learned?