No Swining

Has the Swine Flu changed your behavior? Are you doing anything differently than you would normally do, because you’re afraid of contracting the Porky Pig flu? A Kat Public Health Announcement: “No Swining…get out there and lead your life.”

Here’s a couple of tips to navigate your way through the World of Germs…free of charge, of course.

Forget shaking hands. You don’t want to expose an open hand with the possibility of getting piggy germs and transferring them from your hands to your face. Instead, give them the ole Howie Mandell knuckle bump. Not bloody knuckles or anything…that’s even germier.

Follow a “no kissing policy” when saying hello and goodbye. Kissing, done properly, can be an opportunity for a major germ swap.

Follow my example. I like to keep a little distance when I walk among other humans. If I’m somewhere like Target…and someone behind me sneezes…I react quickly…like a deer with a target on his back….and I high-tail it out of there.

If I hear someone cough….I stay away from that area. I bring barricade tape with me and section the area off. “Do Not Enter.” So when I’m at the Stop and Shop, I don’t always get everything on my list. Duncandog only wants people food anyway. If other people want to cross the line and risk their life for a bag of dog food…then let them be the brave, unselfish dog owners.

I’m washing my hands a lot longer now. “They” say in order to be effective you should wash them for 20 seconds, which is how long it takes to sing “Happy Birthday” or “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” Those songs do nothing for me. They just remind me of how old I am. Find your own song. I’m making mine “Funkytown.”

Mass on Sunday can be very awkward when you hear someone coughing or sniffling behind you…and you know the Sign of Peace is up next. In the pre-Swine days…I would throw caution to the gods and shake hands with the infected individual. I figured, heck I’m in church…spread the word…spread the germs. But to avoid today’s sickly swine people, I take longer shaking the hands of healthy people around me…so there’s no time left for the swines. Let us Pray.

I also bought a hand sanitizer which I keep in my purse…I just forget to use it. I would suggest you buy one…but use it.

These are all suggestions to protect yourself from a swine invasion. If you don’t care to follow my example and incorporate these steps into your daily life…then go full swine ahead. It’s a pig-eat-pig world out there.

“Won’t you take me to, Funkytown?”

“That’s All Folks.”

Left-Over Blog

What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food? The turkey? The stuffing? The cranberry? For me…it’s all of the above…eaten 6 hours later…the left-overs.

Normally, unlike PaulA, (I’m not saying PaulA is not normal) I will have nothing to do with left-overs. I just can’t sink my teeth into the idea of left-over anything. But when it comes to Thanksgiving left-overs…bring it on.

And seeing today is the day after Thanksgiving…I am posting a left-over blog from last year’s Thanksgiving. Which makes it quite stale. But hey, it's Black Friday…the Taj MaMall calls.

Cooking Wonders
Thanksgiving is over…and everyone wobbled home fat and happy…which is more than I can say for Mr. Tom Turkey. I wouldn’t consider myself a gourmet cook…but I can manage Thanksgiving…and I always find ways to entertain myself in the kitchen.

Peeling 10 lbs of potatoes can be very relaxing…and very revealing. The day before Thanksgiving I stood at the kitchen sink peeling away…deep in thought about the poor turkey who gave his life for a family of 21. Before I knew it, I realized my potato was taking shape. I was seeing a face just wanting to bust out of the spud. Now I know what Michelangelo felt like…seeing David emerge from the plaster.

So I kept whittling away…and then I saw it...Abraham Lincoln Potato Head. I knew I recognized that long face …longing to be freed. Another potato to whittle…next up… Bill Clinton.

After carving a series of presidential potato heads…I moved to making cranberry brie. The cranberry topping calls for small amounts of many different spices. As I was adding the spices…I wondered what dry mustard smelled like. Was dry mustard like its cousin…wet mustard? I’m still not sure what dry mustard smells like. But I do know…it burns the inside of your nose.

So if you wonder what I am doing in the kitchen the day before Thanksgiving…I am snorting spices and whittling presidential heads out of baking potatoes.

Who said cooking wasn’t entertaining?

Happy Thanksgiving

I think I’ll keep this blog short…especially because it’s Thanksgiving Day and in just a couple of hours I'm expecting 21 relatives. I didn’t poison anyone last year…so I believe they will all be returning.

Today is the perfect day for me to whip up something simple for my blog…a short-cut…like Redi-Whip. I actually love the way that instant whipped cream squirts out of the can. But don’t squirt it near Duncandog…any sound of gas escaping makes him run for the hills…if ya know what I mean. Anyway, I do make food from scratch…hey, it’s not like I’m schlepping Swanson’s Turkey TV Dinners for 21. They don’t call me Kat for nothin’.

So today I am a Kat of few words. I would like to offer you my Thanks for giving any acknowledgment to my blog….whether it be empathy, sympathy, telepathy, or Timothy. Today I am serving up…an enormous helping of gratitude for your time and patience…and if you stop by later…I’ll offer you a squirt of Redi-Whip. Nowhere near Duncandog, of course.

Enjoy a day…of fun, family, and FOOD. See ya on the couch.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!!!

License To EAT

Tomorrow is your day to gobble everything in sight. Consider it your license to eat. My license has just been renewed and unlike most years…I’m particularly happy with my license picture this year.

Name: fatKAT
Eyes: Brown
Body: Orange
Appetite: Enormous
DOB: Not Yesterday
Legally entitled: to eat everything in sight.
Expiration: November 26, 2009 at midnight.


So from dawn until midnight…I will have my way with the turkey and the turkey will have its way with me.

I will feed and fill…on fowl. Gorge, gobble, and gulp…the gravy. Scarf, stuff and swallow…the squash. Devour and down….the dressing. Pack and pig-out on potatoes and pie. Consume, congest and cram…the corn. Overeat and overindulge…on ostrich…I mean…the orange-cran relish. Wolf and wallow…in wax beans.

If anyone dares to question my ravenous appetite…I’ll just flash them my license and say, “Listen Buster….read it and eat.”

Oprah Announcement

Big BIG Announcement: Oprah is pulling the plug on herself...shutting down the Oprah Show. Don’t do it, Oprah. PLEASE NO! Oh wait, that’s not happening until 2011? So why the BIG announcement now? A lot can happen in two years. Heck, according to the Mayan calendar and the movie 2012…the world is coming to an end in just 3 years.

I have been an Oprah fan from the beginning of Oprah time, so I understand all the hoopla. People are worried that when Oprah packs up her couch…the world will come to an end. Nothing will be the same in the talk show world. We’ll be left to wallow in the crud from Jerry Springer, and all the other schmucks out there. But the question remains… is Oprah really retiring?

Or will she just move to her OWN network…The Oprah Winfrey Network?…(very clever acronym) If she’s like a lot of people in the spotlight who say they are gonna retire…it’s all bull crap…she’ll be back. Most times they are talking out their butts…or the sides of the mouth (my mother says that…not the butts part…that’s my bad manners.)

Yep…you can count the number of people who have given us that old retirement song and dance before. There are tons of athletes who have said they are gonna hang up their cleats, clubs, jockstraps, support bras, racquets, and bats. Then what do they do? They resurface at a later date. They lay low for a while and pretend they are retired…but actually are spending time getting buff and drinking healthy stuff…planning the biggest come back ever.

So I’m not getting all worked up that Oprah’s leaving. I think it’s just a way to generate buzz and publicity for her new network. She will have 2 years to talk about it. 2 years to promote it. 2 years to be a lame duck talk show host.

Wait, something is coming to me here…I’m emitting an Oprah light bulb moment. Maybe there is something to this retiring thing. I think I should retire...then maybe, just maybe, I might have people screaming…”We Want Kat, We Want Kat!”
In unison…all two of you…."We Want Kat.”

That’s it………..I RETIRE……………………………………………....until tomorrow

The Fourth Person

A Kat Milestone…Today is my 500th Blog! Blog On!

I know I make this blogging thing look damn easy. Day after day, week after week, crap after crap…such prolific material just oozing from my pores. There is some real work and mastery to doing this blogging thing. But I do have trouble with a few things….

One of the worstest things for me...is not the superlatives…it is the punctuation. You will see dot dot dot used…mainly because I prefer sentence fragments over complete sentences…plus that is exactly what is going on in my head. What you see…is what I think. And I’m never sure what proper punctuation to use…comma, semi-comma, colin, semi-colin.

Another very difficultest thing for me…is not the superlatives …is/was and has always been the tenses. I start in the present then switch to past…and then I’m not sure if I am in the moment or back to the future.

And don’t even go there with dangling participles. The dangling participle sounds so decadent… right there, dangling in front of me …so I just have to have it. I might have to dangle a participle in front of you to entice you to keep reading.

But the mostest difficult of all…is not the superlatives…it is the person. First person, third person…the same person. Whose on first…whose on third? I can be writing ‘I’ and mean ‘me’, and then I can be writing ‘Kat’ and mean ‘I’ …and then when I need to totally dissociate, I use the fourth person… ‘crazy Kat.’

The mostest easiest thing about blogging….besides the superlatives…is the material. I can shovel dangling participles, dots, worstest superlatives, and bad punctuation in my blogs…and it doesn’t matter. I just blame the fourth person…crazy Kat.

Audience Required

There are times when we need people watching us…an audience…in order to perform to our max ability. Whether it’s the fear of making a fool of ourselves or looking less than competent…there’s a fine line between motivation and humiliation which makes us perform above status quo.

At the gym, you will go the extra mile, the extra speed, or lift the extra pounds…because people are around. But if you were at home on your tread, in your basement…all alone…you don’t push as hard. You think…heck, I’ve run far enough. No one is looking….I’ll just stop here. Tomorrow I’ll go further. After all, a half a mile is…HALF of ONE mile. A workout performance without an audience…leads to a Kat who dogs it.

Of course, there are times when an audience is not so good. Like when you trip over something….or stumble for no apparent reason other than being klutzy. Sometimes the person who sees you understands this…and looks away. (Thank you, kind stranger.) A burp that slips out never needs an audience.

Yep, there are times when an audience is required…especially for a band. The band feeds off the crowd's energy, applause, and vibe …so they pull off a great performance. A performance without an audience…leads to missed notes, missed keys, and missed words.

And take this blog. This blogger needs an audience… because if no one is reading this blog...is it really a blog? I say no. It’s a damn diary.

“Dear Diary: Today I slept, I ate, I napped.” Blogging without an audience…leads to the truth…and who is interested in that? Holla.

Hair Do's and Don'ts

Men have it so much easier than women when it comes to hair. Even gray hair looks better on men…graying at the temples.…graying on top…graying at the hairline. Graying at the nostrils…not so attractive.

Women require so much apparati when it comes to hair maintenance. Curler, straightener, blower, blow torch. If you look at a woman over a period of years you would see her transition through various hairstyles...some do’s and some don’ts. Oprah is always showing clips from her past shows and is always singing a hair done wrong song.

Usually a hairstyle is tied to some famous person. Shirley Temple’s curls, Rita Hayworth’s cascading waves, Farrah Fawcett’s feather cut, Cher’s long straight middle part, Jennifer Aniston’s ‘The Rachel’, Audrey Hepburn’s pixie cut, Doris Day’s helmet, Dorothy Hamill’s wedge.

I’ve had many hair do’s …and some were definitely don’ts…the Shirley, the Hepburn, the Cher, the Farrah, the Jennifer. I have, however, been wearing the Kat do for a while…and that’s probably a don’t.

I’m thinking of men’s haircuts and what movie stars are associated with them. You’ve got the James Dean pompadour, the David Cassidy shag, the Uncle Jesse mullet, the Dick Tracy flat top. The PaulA…parted to the side.

A guy can go anywhere for or a haircut…a barber, a beautician, a butcher…with the simple request “take a little off the top and the sides.”

Us ladies fuss, fret, and fume over what salon we go to and bring a picture with us…. “Can you make me look like her? The hairstylist studies the pic and is always encouraging, “Sure. I can make you look like Charlize Theron….as long as you pay me upfront.”

Who Let the Birds OUT

Look overhead…it’s a bird, it’s a plane….nooo…it IS a bird.

Usually I think flipping the bird isn’t funny…especially if I’m on the receiving end. But for some reason when a mature person does it…it doesn’t seem as bad…maybe because it seems out of character.

I guess that’s why I liked the old TV show…The Golden Girls. I thought it was funny when crabby and crass Sophia, played by the late Estelle Getty, made rude comments. They came from out of the blue, when you least expected it. Last Sunday, that same shocking behavior was seen from an octogenarian……

Bud Adams, age 86, the owner of the Tennessee Titans, was seen flipping the bird to the owner of the Buffalo Bills, Ralph Wilson, age 91 …on the JUMBOTRON. Talk about getting caught. Initially Adams was just waving to the fans from his sky box …but when his team became victorious over the Bills…he apparently let more than one bird fly.

Videotape footage showed Bud Adams first flipping the bird with his right hand…then with his left hand. Then a series of flippings…right, left, right, left. And then to top it off…he flipped the bird with both hands…simultaneously.

I would have to say, the two handed bird flip…or double bird flipping…is a rare sighting…especially for the JUMBOTRON. It’s almost as extinct as another bird of a different feather...the American Eagle.

Adams probably should have shown his maturity and some self restraint…and kept his birds caged. I do think, however, once you’ve reached the ripe old age of great grandfather…it should be grandfathered into law that it’s okay to flip the bird…occasionally.

There are times, however, when decorum and self-restraint are called for…and flipping the bird is never acceptable…no matter what age you are. For example, when leaving the parking lot of the Catholic Church after mass…and everyone is in a blasted hurry to leave and cutting each other off……don’t let the birds out.

More or Less

PaulA and I have been empty-nesters for 3 months now. And I have adjusted to my empty nest…my new way of life…more or less.

I can fly the coup at a moment’s notice and take-off to parts unknown. My open schedule allows me to tag along with PaulA on some business trips. And most importantly, I don’t worry if the house will be still standing when we come back…

I can decide last minute “What’s for dinner?” I might make dinner-in, suggest dinner-out, take dinner out, or burn dinner and throw it out.

I don’t worry about where the kids are or what time the kids are getting in. For some reason, those thoughts go away…even when they are in a major city walking around …and god knows where they go and what time they are going. For some reason…the old saying, “Out of sight…out of mind” rings true. They could be walking down the street at 2am eating a slice of pizza and get punched in the head by a random thug. (Heads up, Colinboy)

And there is a lot less involved. Less shopping…less groceries, less laundry, less electric bill, less cleaning…less shampoo.

But with less…comes more.

More time to think about how quickly time has passed.

More time to go through photo albums and look at their precious faces as they smiled for the camera.

More days to miss the sounds of the house…the special hum…the music, the voices, the laughter.

More time to walk into their rooms and look at everything left in the exact same places…waiting.

More time to remember them interacting with each other, enjoying each other’s company, and sharing secrets.

More time to remember our talks…of school, of friends, of relationships, of fears and hopes and dreams.

More time to sit and ponder my new role.

More time to blog…about precious memories of precious years gone by.

More or less…I am doing fine.

Snuggie Cult

Do you own a Snuggie? If you don’t, I know you’ve seen one advertised on television…the new fangled blanket with arms…designed to keep you toasty warm while your hands are free to operate the remote, laptop or sandwich.

I don’t own a Snuggie…but I’ve started thinking that maybe I should get one…especially because I’m usually cold all winter long. But the truth is…I’m kinda afraid to get one. I might like it too much and start wearing it in public.

The other reason I’m afraid to get one is…they remind me of a straight jacket. Not that I’ve actually worn a straight jacket…or had real cause to, but there is something about them that reminds me of psychotic cult apparel.

So if I did own a Snuggie…there I’d be…wearing my straight jacket into the Stop and Shop. And the worse thing is that my butt would be exposed. Lock her up, folks. Notice how the Snuggie advertisements never show the rear view …that’s because body parts are hanging out.

I’m not really sure who invented the Snuggie…but I do have a feeling how the idea was hatched. I’m thinking…..After a hard night of partying, some guy put his bathrobe on backwards, then walked to the couch to chill for the rest of the day. That’s when the idea hit him hard…like the hangover he would have for the next 8 hours. Nothing like an alcohol induced idea. Eureka. The equivalent of an Oprah Light Bulb Moment.

The Snuggie is a good idea, but once you own one, you become a card carrying member of a cult…the Snuggie Cult of Exposed Butts.

Rappa-D

So I made THE mistake. I unknowingly made the mistake of giving Duncandog an alternate identity. I had no clue that my seemingly innocent actions were going to have the effect that they did…but it happened…and there’s no turning back……

I attached a keychain with a large letter “D” to Duncandog’s collar…and next thing I knew Duncandog morphed into Rappa-D. He no longer is answering to Duncandog…the 4-legged obedient…I’ll do whatever you say, Kat…as long as you feed me treats…dog. He now thinks he is worthy of Rappa status…

And with his new Rappa status… he wants the Rappa treatment. So now he’s looking for a better ride when he goes out on the town. He expects to ride shot-gun in a Mercedes-Benz …not be schlepped around in the Ford Escape…thrown in the back like a bag of groceries. He says the Ford is for pikers not the likes of Rappa-D.

Forget the water bowl…and the stale, stagnant water with grass and sand particles …Rappa-D is asking for Cristal and Remy Martin now. Yea, he wants to pop Cristal even on a Tuesday…and it’s not even hump night.

And forget the occasional bandana …Rappa D wants to wear Rocawear and Sean John. He says, if it’s good enough for Jay-Z and Sean Diddy Combs…it’s good enough for the likes of Rappa-D and that he can not command Rapa respect with a cutesy bandana around his neck.

He loves the bling, bling. He’s always asking me for a 24-carat diamond studded collar. Says he wants me to remove the peace sign collar he is currently wearing.

It’s isn’t easy being me these days, when all Rappa-D wants to do is go clubbin’ every night. It’s so hard to keep him down when he wants to get down. Duncandog was sweet, but Rappa-D says he’s “da shit.”

Here’s a rap that Rappa-D’s working on so he can take over for fellow Rapper Lil Wayne…when he goes to jail to serve a year’s sentence for possession of a weapon.

“Hey man, its me
It’s yo homie Rappa-D

I was born to be a rappa, chillin’, n freestylin’
You know I’m dappa, with this curly hair I stylin’

Shout out to BillyA
Fo dis is his b-day

Git out my way, dat’s off the hizzle
No stoppin' me now, Kat, dat fo shizzle

Can I git a ruff…ruff!”

The IMMUNITY Cereal

News Flash…Cocoa Krispies can NOT prevent you from getting the flu. It does NOT make you immune from communicable diseases. And it can NOT, in any way shape or form, help you to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Cocoa Krispies is actually a highly processed sugary, chocolaty kid’s (and Kat’s) cereal with not much more health benefit than a Klondike Bar. Dear God…Say it isn’t so.

Kellogg’s has been getting a lot of grief about printing the words “IMMUNITY” in large letters across the front of their new boxes. “They” say the consumer will become confused and will think it prevents kids from getting illnesses. They must think we have the IQ of the very box the cereal comes in.

It’s not like we believe every advertising slogan we’ve heard. Heck, by now we are IMMUNE to slogans and promises we’ve had to listen to through the years from politicians.

There should be truth in advertising, but Kellogg’s never claimed to curing or preventing anything. They did increase their vitamins from the daily recommended requirement of 10 percent to 25 percent. And vitamins do add to our immunity. But come on, we know the health correlation ends there…and not with the cure to Swine Flu, the common cold, and Athlete’s foot. We still know Cocoa Krispies is a junk cereal with a few vitamins sprinkled on top.

Let’s get the facts straight: A bowl of Cocoa Krispies can NOT cure illness…..but it can cure a chocolate craving…thereby providing IMMUNITY from death by triple chocolate mousse trifle.

Thank you Kellogg’s.

Big Chillin'

“Oh, What a night! Late October back in 2009…What a feeling, What a night.”

What happens when you get 4 couples…8 “old” friends since college...together to celebrate a BIG birthday…and it happens to be Halloween…which ironically is fitting for a birthday when black décor, skulls, and skeletons are called for? Well, I don’t want to scare you with the gory details of our Big Chill weekend…but let's just say…we did some “chillin’.”

After numerous years since college, you might be able to tell we are advancing in years…but definitely not by the way we look. (We look marrrrrrvelousssss…just ask Billy Crystal.) But by two things that got us very excited…it was the Tale of Two Seals. The seals on Flat Rock…….and Press and Seal.

For some reason people get very excited to see seals swimming in the ocean. Frankly I have had enough with the seals. What’s the big deal? What are they are good for? Absolutely nothing! Sing it again, Kat.

I have more respect for Press and Seal…swimming in my kitchen drawer. Press and Seal is really the best invention since Saran Wrap…it blows the plastic right off the other wrap.

This blog, however, is more than a recount or synopsis of a big chill weekend of laughing, reminiscing, singing, and dancing. This blog is about the beauty of friendship. Good friends are something to treasure. It’s pretty special that whenever you get together, no matter how long it has been, you just pick up from where you left off…and it feels good. It’s kinda like putting on your favorite snuggly sweatshirt …or even better than that… it’s like wearing your broken-in, soft, supple loafers……although I prefer to think of the women as Jimmy Choo heels and the guys as White Bucks….and not as pairs of chunky sensible shoes and holey loafers.

It was a Big Chillin’ weekend…time with OLD friends, telling OLD stories…making NEW memories.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays

Ho Ho Ho…Merry Christmas! Did I get your attention? December 25th might be 6 or so weeks away…but at the TajMaMall…it’s Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, and Happy Kawanzaa… all rolled into one jingle bell. The Taj has actually had its halls decked since October…and to think the Pilgrims haven’t even landed at Plymouth Rock.

As I walked through center court...what to my wondering eyes should appear? Santa…sitting in his chair, holding court in Center Court. Here come the judge…checking his list…checking it twice. Good Boy? Bad Boy? Good Kat? Bad Kat?

I took a good look at Santa and I am happy to report…he appears to be rested up for the holiday season. He doesn’t have that frenzied, harried, stressed… “I’m gonna pinch the next kid who pulls my beard and coughs in my face” look...that he usually has about December 19th. Santa still has his signature gut, stretching the buttons of his red suit. He looks like he hit the barbecue pretty hard during the off season… and he still has that rosy glow that you can only get from a summer of boat drinks. I wonder if Santa prefers gin or vodka.

Because it’s early in the season and turkeys are still free ranging, it was only natural that Santa wasn’t get much attention…unless you count the attention he was receiving from his blonde assistant. He might not have had any little visitors but he didn’t look lonely. I think he might have a little something going on with his helper….cuz she looked waaay to comfortable on his lap. I’m sure she was whispering what she wanted for Christmas when she had her lips to his ear. Yep, that’s what she was doing. “Oh Santa, I’ve been a VERY good girl.”

I don’t want to sound like Scrooge and be all Bah Humbug…but I don’t like to be thrown into the next holiday season when I’m still working on celebrating another. It disturbs me when the media and the TajMaMall jumps ahead with the holidays. I like to take my holidays as they come on the calendar and not play leap frog with them. So I prefer to enjoy my turkey and pumpkin pie before I have to think about everyone on my Christmas List. Note to self: Add yourself to the List…you’ve been a good Kat.

Heck, the way things go…before we even get the Christmas tree down…there are hearts and roses, plastered all over everything…totally skipping over George’s Birthday. I don’t know about you, but I need time to celebrate George Washington. I'm thinking...maybe I'll chop my Christmas tree down in George's honor.

So for now…let’s relax, gather together, and give Thanks…and THEN let’s join Santa and his personal assistant in center court.

Mad Men Influence

Do you watch Mad Men? It’s a great show that airs on Sunday nights on the AMC Channel. The Season 3 finale was last night, so if interested, I would suggest you watch each season in order on DVD…it will make so much more sense. Then you will understand why Donald Draper is the lying, cheating, scum-bag of a handsome husband that he is.

The show, set in the early 60’s, is about advertising executives on Madison Avenue…thus the Mad Men. The show is “true” to the time period…with spot-on sets, events of the time, social attitudes, behavior, and attire. The Mad Men live in a man’s world…where the women they work with are secretaries they ogle, speak down to, and slap on the butt. They smoke non-stop and drink in the office…and they most definitely don’t recycle…unless you are talking girls.

What is interesting is the effect the show is having on fashion. The last time I was in NYC, I walked by Bergdorf Goodman on 5th Avenue and noticed the 50’s and 60’s clothing in all of its windows. I kept on walking…I’m already vintage…I don’t need vintage clothing to prove it.

The vintage influence is also seen for the Spring 2010 fashion line in women’s lingerie. We are talking high-waist briefs, garter belts, and full body suits with structured hard bra cups. (Men please try to bare with me with talk about our unmentionables.)

Fashion designers are always trying to reinvent the fashion wheel…so they are calling it “a totally modern, new kind of lingerie look.” I’m calling the vintage undergarments what they really are…Granny pants.

Now it appears the fashion designers want to go full circle with our mentionables…back to granny pants. I guess they got tired of thong underwear...aka floss.

We must draw a fashion line in the sand…somewhere…and JUSTSAY NO to cone bras, corsets, and granny pants. Although…I’m thinking Granny might be happier to go back to old school undergarments. I think she mostly prefers floss for her teeth.

Doggie DaVinci

On the TODAY Show, a few days ago before today…actually 2 days before yesterday…and 3 days before tomorrow…there was an entire segment about a 4-legged DaVinci. People have actually paid 1,700 dollars for one of the dog’s creations.

From what I saw, Doggie DaVinci could have “made” one of his creations right there on the floor, because crap is about what the originals looked like…and what they are really worth.

When Al Roker asked the dog to “paint” …he moved towards Al instead of the canvas. The trainer kept bringing the dog back to “paint” …and Doggie DaVinci looked at his trainer, like huh? Eventually the dog made a single brush mark and then looked for his treat. What a joke. I couldn’t stop laughing.

“They” call that painting? The Today Show was barking up the wrong easel with that story. Ruff Ruff. It’s not like Doggie DaVinci is an abstract expressionist and can decide that he needs a little splash of yellow here or a little aqua there. Dogs can see some spectrum of color…but he isn’t choosing between…red and orange…that would be the 2-legged trainer.

I’m not buying the “painting dog” bit…literally and figuratively. Just because the dog allows his trainer to stick a paint brush in his mouth that is already dipped in a chosen paint color…and coaxes him to brush the canvas…for a treat…he’s wonder dog? And people are actually willing to spend money for his original doggie do?

You may as well tie a paintbrush to a horse’s ass…I mean tail…and let him arbitrarily whip his tail around. Heck, I could close my eyes and dab paint on a canvas…or better yet, tie a brush to my tail…and call it “Original Art by a Kat.” I’d only charge a grand.

As The Crow Flies

The Yang Yankees won the World Series last night in their new stadium…making today the longest day in the Red Sox calendar year. What’s a Red Sox fan to do? Okay, I’ll suck it up and say it, “Congratulations to theYankees players, organization, and their fans.” (Enjoy it all now…JUST wait until next year.)

I have to admit…theYankees were the best team in baseball this year. And that wasn’t easy to say and it was even harder to write. Saying it is one thing…in one ear and out the other…but putting it in writing, puts it out there permanently in blogworld. As a Yankee fan…you (BA) may have had a crow to pick with me because of some statements I made in yesterday’ s blog …but at least you don’t have to eat crow today.

It’s very hard to eat crow…it doesn’t taste so great…or sit so well in the belly. There is nothing good about eating crow…it’s foul-tasting, fowl-smelling and very hard to swallow. I can’t think of any way to eat crow with dignity and not gag…unless…I add a little Emeril’s Creole Seasoning (BAM!), maybe it would taste like chicken.

As the crow flies…it is about 200 miles from the Bronx to Boston….and I’m sure there are audible sounds of many Red Sox fans in Boston gagging and puking as they try to get down a little crow today…(maybe a blender would help…a crow protein drink.)

Next time I would prefer to eat humble pie...(although I’m not sure what’s in it.) A humble pie has to be better than a big, thick, tough, fowl bird.

The Yang Yankees

Over the years I have gotten into watching Baseball. Initially I was teamless….I didn’t really care or root for any team in particular. Basically I was without a country. Kat without a country…a very sad state…but my state has since evolved into a very powerful country…Red Sox Nation.

After being married to PaulA umpteen years (my mom says “umpteen” …I think it means a lot)…I have become a tried and true Red Sox fan. Let’s go Red Sox. Let me hear the cheer.

And so it is only natural…that with the team you root for…comes the team you want to always see lose…regardless of who they are playing. You aren’t wishing ill will on the health and safety of their players…maybe just a couple of broken toes…and pinkies, but you want them to suck every time they play. It’s just part of being a true fan of a team…it’s the Ying and Yang of baseball.

So seeing the Red Sox are not in the World Series and the Yang Yankees are playing…it is only natural that I would want the Phillies to win tonight. Actually it would be best if the Phillies could beat the crap out of those Yangs and tie the series at 3-3.

Rivalries in baseball are actually very good for the game…not only do they get the juices flowing and blood pumping for the players…but also the fans. Otherwise, we would be sitting in front of our televisions drooling with boredom. Ho hum. What’s the point of even watching, unless you have someone to yell at, boo…and maybe throw an occasional loafer?

So there's no surprise where I’ll be tonight….butt to the brown couch…leather to leather…watching every move the Yang Yankees make… hoping it’s the wrong move, the wrong pitch, the wrong play……making everything right in Red Sox Nation.

As true Red Sox fans the nation over, we have extended the boundaries of our Nation during the Series to embody the Phillies territory. Let’s Go Phillies! Beat the Yang Yankees!

The Time Fiddler

Spring Ahead. Fall Back. The pros and cons of Daylight Savings Time have always been debated…it depends on what side of the timeline you are on. Some people profess the energy savings…others proclaim the sanity costs. The battle continues here……

A good thing about Daylight Savings Time and moving your clock back an hour… sleeping until 9am and finding out it’s only 8am. (saweet)
A bad thing about daylight savings time and moving your clock back…getting to church an hour late and finding out you’re on time…(not-so-saweet)

Bad thing about Daylight savings time and moving your clock back an hour…it gets dark at 5 o’clock.
Good thing about Daylight savings time and moving your clock back an hour…it gets dark at 5 o’clock…making your cocktail seem more appropriate.

As with most everything there is a good side and a bad side…but there isn’t much good about Mondays. So with the switch to daylight savings I got to thinking…wouldn’t it be great if we could gain an extra hour each week. We could gain another hour by taking an hour from Monday and adding it to Sunday….making Mondays shorter. Then at the end of 6 months…we would restock Monday with 24 hours and start over. (As you can see…I’ve put a lot of thought into this.)

Instead of dreading Mondays…people would love them because Monday, Monday would be gradually getting shorter. There would be no more Monday Blues…and no Manic Monday…(and no other Monday songs that you can think of.)

I’ve come up with great ideas before…but this is my best yet. The simple way to beat Mondays without using a stick…fiddle with time. Why not? We do it every spring and fall.

The Fix-it Gene

I drove by men working on electrical poles the other day and got to thinking …Is their job stimulating? Do they get juiced, working from those buckets 70 feet in the air? How do they know what to do with those wires?

There are some folks, like my cousin Shannon, who are hard-wired when it comes to understanding currents, conductors, and circuits. His great, great grandfather (how great was he?) had the patent on the first electric motor…so obviously Shannon inherited the Fix-it gene. That explains why as a kid, he wired the door knob to shock you when you entered. He always got a charge out of that…and so did you.

I’m glad there are those, like Shannon, who know their AC from their DC. I think that’s my problem right there …I don’t know my ass-C from my elbow-D.

I have to say PaulA is a fix-it man. He’s very good about repairing things…the garbage disposal, garage door opener, dishwasher…plus he can put anything together. Very impressive fix-it skills coming from a man with a girl’s name.

When something isn’t working…I get frustrated and say to PaulA: “Fix-it…just fix-it.” Remember the “Fix-it” routine from Saturday Night Live Weekend Update with Amy Pouler and Seth Myers… when Oscar Rogers would repeat “Fix-it” over and over? Every time he would say “Fix-it…just Fix-it. It’s broke…now fix-it” I would laugh my ass-C off.

My mother has the Fix-it gene, but unfortunately never passed it on to me. Instead…I’m another Oscar Rogers. We have the gene that tells OTHER people to “Fix-it…just Fix-it. It’s broke…now fix-it. Fixxxxxxx-itttt. Fix-it.”

Whoops. There it goes again…I get a jolt every time…I’m currently laughing my ass-C off.