Post Time

Today I’m not at my post. I don’t have my usual astute blog post today because I’m otherwise busy with the many hobbies and activities that fulfill me as a person. It’s a wonder that I even have time to blog. Many a people have tried to keep up with the whirling dervish energy I have and scientists have even tried to capture the protons and electrons that make up my aura…and put it in a spray can…to be used on teenagers when they can’t get off the couch.

So I’m getting a jump on the weekend. There is so little time in the week…when I have so many things to do. I’ve got butter to sculpt, Cocoa Puffs to sample at General Mills, origami papers to fold, belly dancers to teach, volunteer fires to fight, bodies to paint, disputes among Middle Eastern countries to settle, and my current book to finish reading: Self-Help for the Self-Indulgent.

Anywho…

Have a nice weekend….and if I’m back on Monday, after riding “Devil May Care” in the Kentucky Derby…I’ll post another self-indulgent blog.

Try Me Tuesdays

I hope you didn’t forget last Wednesday. You could be in bigga bigga trouble…with someone who could make your life vera vera miserable. No…not your spouse or significant insignificant. Your secretary. Or like the political correct folks like to call it: Administrative Professional’s Day.

We don’t use the term “secretary” anymore. Secretary is an antiquated word and conjures up images of a buxom red head with perfect posture typing on her Underwood manual typewriter….think Triple D Joan Holloway from Mad men. Take a Letter, Joanie. Today Administrative Assistants come in all genders, sizes, hair colors and persuasions….think tippy-toes Lloyd from Entourage. Take a hike, Lloydy.

Anywho…………….

I think of Administrative Professional’s Day as a made-up holiday…probably because I’m not in the business of administration…just more in the business of procrastination (that’s why I write this blog.) Administrative Professional’s Day feels like one of those days that Hallmark creates…a day for commercial purposes to sell cards and crap. Like Grandparent’s Day.

Have you ever sent your grandparents a card on Grandparent's Day? BTW…when the heck is it? Hallmark might as well have Jailbird’s Day…when you care enough to send the very best to your favorite prisoner. But I suppose if my grandparent was locked up…I’d definitely send a card.

I think there is also a Boss’ Day. But if you actually gave your boss a gift…you’d probably be accused of sucking up…unless of course you work for a vacuum company. I believe it would be considered natural or common place to suck at work.

Another example: Cyber Monday. That’s the Monday after Thanksgiving when people traditionally hit the internet to order online for the holidays. So is Cyber Monday a gimmick to get people to go online or is it really a trend. Which came first the gimmick or the trend? Or is it just a trendy gimmick?

Wait a minute…that’s what I think I’ll try to get more blog readership…a trendy gimmick.

I am officially declaring Tuesdays … “Try Me Tuesdays.” Tuesdays, would be the perfect day to give Kat’s blog a try. No real investment is required…no money has to cross hands. All you do is…tell your peeps, creeps, friends, and frenemys about my blog and get them to sample it for a day. Tell them that “Try me Tuesdays” is a “for real” day…not some made-up trendy gimmick Hallmark day. (Okay, lie a little.)

And also tell them: Comments are appreciated. But no sucking up is required ….unless of course you work for a vacuum company.

Her Majesty Queen Rania

Her majesty, Queen Rania, from Jordan can be seen on the TV circuit promoting her new children’s book “The Sandwich Swap.” It’s a wonderful little book about 2 young girls learning to tolerate different cultures through swapping their sandwiches …PB&J and Humus. I had never heard her speak before and was Highly impressed.

Queen Rania is a beautiful woman in her 30’s…who actually looks more like a model. She is light years from the stuffy ole vision that comes to mind when you think of a queen. You remember reading about the Monarch queens…they wore royal robes, gowns, crowns, and called out from their thrones: “Let them eat cake.”

The only disappointment I had with Queen Rania was…she wasn’t wearing her tiara. I ask…why be queen if you aren’t going to walk around with a tiara on? Isn’t that the point in the first place? Am I missing something here?

Anywho………..

In case you have the opportunity to meet Queen Rania…you should know the correct protocol so you are not considered rude, uneducated, or Royally challenged. First, you must refer to the Queen as “Majesty.” (I think I would have a hard time not snickering and humming “America the Beautiful”. For some reason all I can think of is purple mountains.)

In the Queen’s presence, women should curtsy and men should nod their heads. And men should not let their tongues hang out and drool over her.

Never turn your back on Queen Rania. She should walk out of the room first. (That totally works for me…then I would have a few minutes to look around for a few free souvenirs.)

If you are lucky enough to dine with Her Majesty…Do NOT leave the table to go the restroom during dinner. Hold it…even if your eye balls turn yellow. And when the Queen stops eating…you should too. (So I would suggest cramming it in fast….I think she eats like a bird. No foul intended.) And never, ever ask for seconds…or especially thirds.

We are not as fortunate to have a queen as part of our culture in the U.S. Unless, of course, you include Queen Latifah.

Besides…there would only be one queen for me…only one queen that I would allow to rule over me…Dairy Queen. And I would live by the mantra: “Let them eat ice cream.”

God save the Dairy Queen.

LinkedIn Rando Connections

"Do you want to reconnect?"

Are you on Facebook or some other social networking site like…Twitter….LinkedIn…Twitterface? I joined a couple of sites…but I don’t stay current with them. I’m mainly on Twitter so I can follow my 2 favorite tweeters: Dear Havanah (great band from Boston)….and John Bad Boy Mayer. I actually haven’t posted a tweet for 3 months…except for a clever response to John Mayer. I’m sure John would have loved it (if he saw it)…and would have written a song about me.

Anyway, I recently joined LinkedIn to see what the business-oriented site was all about. In order to do that …I had to register and set up an account. But the problem with that is…people find you and send messages asking…. “Do you want to make a connection?”

The real question is: Do I really want to connect or be friends with randos……….random people from my past who could have become needy, nerdy nuckleheads?

My LinkedIn page is basically a shell…with no info. It just shows my occupation: Blogger Extraordinaire. And the same with my Facebook account…no face…just a page. Maybe I should remove myself from these sites…I don’t want to look like I’m dissing anyone. To not accept someone as a friend on Facebook, or reject someone on LinkedIn seems so harsh. I wouldn’t want anyone to feel badly, or cry themselves to sleep because I refused them.

Anywho......................

Yesterday I got a message from a woman on LinkedIn…saying she “remembers me from college and wants to reconnect.” I’m sure she’s a nice person and all…but I’m wondering why she wants to reconnect. Maybe she was duly impressed by my Blogger Extraordinaire status.

But what if she wants to reconnect because of something that I did back in our college days at UVM? What if she wants me to right some wrong?

Maybe I borrowed something from her and she wants it back. (I think I returned her gray Dean’s sweater.) Or maybe I still owe her money for pizza. But worse: What if she is pissed about something I said and it has been festering. Now she wants to come after me and settle the score. Nothing like a little vengeance to fuel the juices for reconnecting.

Okay, now I’m scared…I better go to LinkedIn and hit “REJECT”…just to play it safe. From now on I’m swearing off social networking sites and sticking to blogging only. Blogging is so much safer. With blogging...there are no stalkers, snipers, and sychopaths…just harmless nitwits, ninnies, and nincompoops.

.............ninnyOUT

Private Eye Moms

As an empty-nester…I’m always looking for new ways to spend my free time. Granted, I have been busy with my blog. It does require a lot of effort…especially to rise to the ‘Blogger Extraordinaire’ status that I have attained in such a relatively short period of time. But because I’ve already blown the doors off blogging…I’ve been searching for a new gig. It appears that I have found it….Private Eye Mom.

My new career idea came to me when I saw a segment on the Today show about everyday moms who put aside dishwashing, toilet scrubbing, and schlepping…and become private investigators. They are soccer moms…who after they leave the soccer fields…get in their minivans and become super sleuths. They moonlight during the daylight and even the nightlight.

Sounds like a modern day version of Charlie Angels…doesn’t it?

PvtEye Moms deal mostly with infidelity cases... catching people in the “act” … “honey trappings.” (Surprise honey.) Their mission…should the P I Moms decide to take it? Tail the tails of weasels…and show and tell tales of those who they've tailed…and nailed. And also: trailing teens...to make sure the teen's tail is on the trail they've told...and not a tall tale.

They say moms are perfect for the job…they blend in, so they can work unnoticed. Hey, who would suspect that a soccer mom’s sports bra would be wired for sound and her hoodie would be concealing a video cam? A P I Mom is kinda like a Gladys Kravitz (from Bewitched if you’re too young to know)…WITHOUT the curtains but WITH the minivan.

Moms in general have a great intuitive voice and special instincts that give them an advantage in the business. For example: Most moms can sense when their kid is going sneak out of the house, or throw a bender…2 weeks before it happens.

Anywho…………..

The PI business could be a good match for me. I have a nose for nosiness, like to run in slow-motion, and have an affinity for spy gadgets. I would immediately get my hands on a shoe phone.

I admit, however, I would have to change a few things before I could embark on a new career as Private Eye Mom. I’m afraid of packing heat of any kind…guns or hot flashes. (They are both dangerous and result in fiery explosions.) I retired my minivan. And I would have to work on a new hair blend to blend in.

Hmmm…..I wonder if there is a need for Empty-nester Private Eye Moms.

iSuggestion for iPod

Is it just me?

I own an iPod (like 50 million other people) and think it’s the best invention since Ben and Jerry added chunky to the monkey. I’m actually on my second iPod…the iPod Nano. I love the Nano name…and I think Mork and Mindy would have approved too. Nanoo nanoo.

Do ya feel a but coming? (Try to keep it clean, please.)

BUT…sometimes I have trouble operating the iPod…and I’m not even under the influence… so I’m not exactly sure what my problem is. What I do know is that the circle thingy in the center of the iPod…the control wheel that operates the iPod…needs to be reworked, reconfigured, reinvented. I find the thingy very temporamental. (Kinda like temperamental…but the Japanese version.)

I know the iPod was made to be touch sensitive…but it is a touch too sensitive. And I don’t even have big thumbs. I wonder if Big Papi has trouble operating his iPod…maybe the Apple heads have custom-made an iPod with a bigger wheel for Pops.

When working the volume…there are times when my thumb takes a ride on the wheel and the volume never changes. (What tha?) And then there are times I barely touch the wheel and the volume goes through the roof…and my earbuds. (Say what?)


Anywho…………

I know they say you can’t reinvent the wheel…but I’m not asking for that. I say, to heck with reinventment…go with abandonment. Abandon the wheel, Apple heads.


The wheel was man’s first invention…so Apple probably thought they were being very clever with using a wheel. But I think the volume should be on a different control thingy. Like maybe a straight line device...an arrow (without the feathers)…another early invention by man. Ugga ugga.

It has been my passion to help companies enhance their products and grow their bottom line. I’ve been working on General Mills to add chocolate chunks to their Cocoa Puff cereal…Chunky Cocoa Puffs. (It looks encouraging…so far they’ve said they will get back to me…and they know where I live.)

I hope Apple listens to my proposed iSuggestion for improving their product. I wouldn’t want any Apple heads to roll…because they missed out on another great Kat concept.

Cyberworld katOUTcast

One thing I’ve learned about Cyberworld. You ain’t NOBODY in the world of Cyber…until you have at least 1,000 Twits following you on Twitter…..or pluralous (new word I invented) peeps leaving comments on your blog. Officially that makes me a cyberworld katOUTcast.

Okay, this isn’t a Kat pittyparty for one. No party favors here.

Sometimes when I get out… (Okay, occasionally they let me out) and one conversation leads to another …I end up revealing my inadequacies. “Yes, I have a blog.” Otherwise, people would get the scary picture that I’m sitting on my fat ass all day. (Hey, sometimes I blog standing up.)

Then I’m asked, “How many readers do you have?” I scratch my head and start impressing them with my list. “Well, I know for sure, there’s Sam Adams from Boston, Morgan from Captainwood, Jose from Cuervo, Ginny in Gordon. Oh, and the Gallo Brothers from Boones Farm. They might be few in number, but they are high in spirits.”

Or worse…I’m asked, “Do you get a lot of comments on your blog?” Then I am forced to explain the lack of commentatorship (Love making words up.) I give excuses for my readers not always commenting...with obvious legit reasons: they are missing a few phalanges, shy, or sleeping it off.

Then they’ll say, “Well, you should read my friends blog. OMG It is so good and so funny.” And they proceed to tell me how their friend’s blog is the bomb diggity…fo sho…and that their friend’s blog get hundreds of hits per day and pluralous commentatorship.

Anywho…….


I’m given a 3mm thread of hope that they will join my readership when they give me their Scouts promise saying, “I will definitely read your blog and leave a comment. What’s your blog address?”

Conveniently, they NEVER EVER have paper…so I dig through my purse and find a crumpled Luke’s Liquors receipt. I write my blog address down on the back…being very careful to spell it out clearly: Kat’siwon’tholdmybreath.blogspot.com

............katOUTcast

Meatman Revisits

The Meatman showed up at our door again. I’ve been trying to dodge him for weeks. I just don’t have use for his meat any more. I’ve tried to explain that he needs to find younger customers…people with little kids at home to feed…and not a couple of empty-nesters. We don’t need many worms any more. In short, I would say...it's not the meat...it's the notion.

The Meatman is the guy who delivers meat to our house…and I’m talking pork chops, hamburger, steaks, chicken. By the way, I don’t call him Meatman to his face. I actually use his real name.

When his truck pulls up to our house, I know I am instantly on the meat hook.

We have known the Meatman for 19 years. The first day he showed up out of nowhere. Drove up in his pick-up truck with one of those deep freezers with the smoking ice. A regular butcher on wheels.

With 3 little kids running around…I was an easy sell. It seemed like a great idea. I would always have something I could throw on the table…I mean lovingly set out for my beautiful family. The problem now is, all 3 kids are not here anymore to eat all that meat. Do I need to be sitting at home...gnawing on spare ribs and ham shanks?

Being the salesman that he is…he gives me all the reasons why I should stock my freezer with meat. Like…I would have food for whenever Colinboy came home from college…and did I know college boys ate a lot of food? (Meaty idea, Mr. Meatman.) And I could have my friends over and entertain them. (Now that is an entertaining idea.)

He likes to remind me how he has known me a long time...since Wishy was a baby in my belly. When he pulls that pork chop out of his meat locker, I know he is going for the hard, sentimental sell. He never gives up unless he has sold you.

So it’s a box of frozen hockey puck burgers for the next month. I invite you to stop by...ANYTIME...for a little meat and greet.

HDTV-Horrifying Details To View

Back in the day…when it came to picture time…I had my kids trained like monkeys. On command… they mugged for the camera. They never gave me a lick of trouble about getting their picture taken. They knew it would soon be over…and crazy Katwoman would leave them to their bananas…if they just stopped swinging from the chandeliers for a minute.

But for me…I’m not as compliant. I’m more like: “Do you have to take my picture? Okay, could you just back up…yea…another foot…one more…yep. Back up a few more inches. Oh, you can barely see me? You won’t know it’s me? Now it’s perfect….Go ahead and take my picture.”

I prefer a little distance with my photographing. Distance makes the face grow fonder. Who needs to have the camera in your face…filming all your imperfections.

If I was a newscaster, like Katie Couric, sitting in the studio under the lights…I’d ask for a reassignment…even a demotion. The cameras are way to close…especially these days with Hi Def TV.

I would want to work for the Weather Channel…on location. I’d ask to cover all the storms…rain, thunder, hail, snow, cane. That way I’d be in full gear and not the focal point of the picture. People are more interested in seeing snow banks anyway, than your face…or seeing you hang onto to a telephone pole for dear life, while hurricane winds whip you and your hair sideways.

With Hi Def…there is nothing left to the imagination. The pictures are so clear. What you see when you look in your mirror is what 20 million people see on TV…puffy eyes, crusty eyes, zits, circles, spheres…you name it.

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall…who’s got the bushiest eyebrows of all?” That would be you, Andy Rooney. With Hi Def TV, or as I like to call it “Horrifying Details To View”…Andy’s eyebrows take on a life form all their own.

And you can’t hide under the new barely-there make-up they use these days for Hi-Def TV. With the switich to horror defining technology…new types of make-up and different make-up artists were needed. The studios had to fire the previous make-up artists who were applying the thick cakey material with a spatula.

Trust me…if your face was made up with the prior heavy and thick material…it would look like the Cake Boss did your make-up. And you would definitely be better licking than better looking.

Google My World

Can you think of anything handier than Google? Well, besides the George Foreman George-To- Go Outdoor Propane Grill and Griddle…AS SEEN ON TV. That grill is smoking.

I don’t know about your habits, but I’m a habitual Googler. I probably google 30 times a day and sometimes more. (Don’t cha love how Google has become a verb?) There are days I get so Google happy, I can’t stop myself.

If I need to answer an important question like “How old is Vanna White?”…I run to my laptop and bring up Google. Google is helpful for looking up any fact…and is why I continue to look like a Brainiac in my blog. (BTW, Vanna is looking pretty good for age 52.)

In the era of B.G. – time Before Google…I remember using the World Book Encyclopedia to help me with life’s mysteries and school reports. I felt so fortunate that we had our very own green and white hard-cover bound pages of knowledge. It’s probably the reason I got such killer grades on school reports. I remember using Volume “U” -“V” for a report on the great State of Vermont and placing tracing paper over the picture of the state bird and coloring it in. That report was A + material…complete with graphics.

Anywho…………….

I have always wondered how Google works. (I’m also still trying to figure how an airplane gets off the ground.) I know it is a search engine and has something to do with web pages and web servers…and it uses creepy crawlers and tags…HTML tags…Meta tags…… TAG YOUR IT. But I’ve never understood how info got onto the internet in the first place. Was there someone in Walla Walla, Washington locked in a room with a set of World Book Encyclopedias entering information into a computer. “A”…aardvark…nocturnal mammal with a long nose that hoovers ants.

I’m sure you’ve noticed on the Google homepage there is the option of choosing either “Google Search” or “I’m Feeling Lucky.” Have you ever chosen “I’m Feeling Lucky?” I would venture to say 9 out of 10 people have not. Why is it even there? Today I used it for the FIRST TIME to find out what the heck it was or does. Turns out, it brings up different pages. But it still confounds me. (Question to Google folks….Are you just messin’ with us with that Lucky button?)

I wonder if after I post this blog …and google “Google My World”…would Katstaleof5.blogspot.com actually come up? That would be the COOLEST. If it doesn’t….then I think I’ll give the “I’m Feeling Lucky” option a try.

If that fails…I might have to send my blog to that human in Walla Walla.

Compliment-Taking Disorder

“I like your outfit.” “You look good today.” Can you take a compliment? It should be easy to take a compliment. But for some…not so much.

I fall into the category of “not taking compliments very well.” I have realized, however, that it is important to just say “Thank you” and not get into any lengthy explanations…as to why you are less than worthy…or to ramble on and down play something. So when someone says to me, “I like your dress”…I don’t reply, “Oh, this old frayed thing? I got it at Salvation Army, and it was worn by the entire army before I owned it.”

Anywho…

If one of my readers were to go out on a limb and say, “Kat, I enjoy reading your blog,” (Okay, let’s just say.) I would probably reply, “Oh, that silly thing?” Instead of just saying, “Thank You.” PaulA always asks, “Why don’t you just say thanks?”

Maybe it is a woman thing. Women seem to be more critical of themselves than men are of themselves. I should probably take a page from ‘Colinboy’s Guide to Compliment Taking’…Colinboy is a pro. “Dude, liked that song you guys played.” “Yea…it’s rockin’. Thanks man.”

I guess if you don’t think you are worthy of praise…then who else is gonna? I wonder if there are support groups for people with compliment-taking disorders. In rehab...you would meet in a circle and people would fire compliments at you. It could be run by Donald Trump…the Master of Ego. Hey, we could learn a lot from the man with the best ever comb-over about taking compliments. If you don’t have something good to say about The Donald…The Donald does.

So here’s my attempt at singing my own praises. “Tell your friends and family that they should read Kat’s blog…because Kat’s blog is darn good. She is groovy, relevant and one cool Kat…just ask HER...............................................................husband."

Taxing Blog

I hope reading this blog…isn’t too taxing…or isn’t a burden, but because today is April 15th, TAX DAY…I decided to levy a reprint. You probably won’t receive any capital gains from reading it…but do not expect a refund.

Many years ago we lived in Manlius, New York…a town located near Syracuse in a snow belt off of Lake Ontario. To get prepared for our FIRST looong cold winter, we decided to stock up on cut wood for our fireplace. When you are new to town, you are never quite sure who to call, but we had seen an ad in the local town paper: “Wood Man – Wood delivered.”

We gave the Wood Man a call. Who could resist with a name like that? Anyway, the Wood Man delivered his wood and we were in woody heaven that winter. Wood is good.

Winters last forever in Manlius, the snow capital of the world. It felt like we were living in a snow globe every day…like someone was up there shaking our globes. (You know what I mean.) When winter finally ended and it stopped snowing, it was the month of April and taxes were due.

We needed a new accountant…and by chance…found a large ad in the town newspaper: “Call the Tax Man.” PaulA got his tax papers together and I volunteered to drop everything off at the Tax Man’s office.

That was the day I found out that the Tax Man was the Wood Man. Apparently, every spring the Wood Man turns in his axe for a green shade visor. All he has to do to get ready for the new season is turn over his shingle…and sharpen a few pencils.

I got a little nervous wondering what kind of job the Wood Man would do with our taxes. Would he be a professional…or more like a hack?


Anywho………..

I couldn’t wait to tell PaulA what I had discovered. Should I break it to him gently or just blurt it out? (Why do I get so much enjoyment from these situations?)

I went for it…”Honey, I dropped off the paperwork for the Tax Man, but I think you should know that the Tax Man is the Wood Man. They are the same guy. Wood Man = Tax Man. Tax Man = Wood Man. You know what I’m saying?” (I was waiting to hear what PaulA was gonna say next. Would he have a major freak out?)

PaulA calmly replied, “The next time you see the Tax Man, make sure to put in an order for a cord of wood. It’s gonna be another cold winter.” (Okay, I admit, I was hoping for at least a minor freak out.)

Happy Tax Day…May your Tax Man know what he is doing…and isn’t barking up the wrong tree.

Clean Living

Throw open the windows…let the fresh air in. It’s springtime, baby.

For some folks this time of year means one thing…spring cleaning. For other folks…well, not so much. But I hear there are people who posses the clean gene. The gene that makes them want to do a deep, thorough, annual cleaning to their home. It also gives them an affinity to white suits and eventually leaves them bald.

They dry-clean curtains, and wash the windows, inside and outside. Get the ladder out and dust in out of reach places. Clean carpets. Etc. etc.

I might be missing the Mr. Clean gene, (I like black suits), but I have the Heloise gene. And lucky for all you spring clean freaks, I have a tip for you: Break out the vodka.

I have discovered (through the internet…not by taste) that vodka works wonders on most everything except maybe hangovers. Probably most of you, who regularly clean, already know about the vodka miracle…but this Kat is just catchin’ on as to why some of my friends enjoy cleaning so much.

I have learned that vodka works magic on scuff marks on walls, doors, and banisters. Not to mention removing spots on carpets and disinfecting toilets and trash cans. I’ve always tried to get out of an annual spring cleaning. But now I’m thinking of imbibing. Who knew cleaning could be so much fun.

The cleanest people I know come from Russia and Poland. I once had a Polish cleaning lady (OK, I KNOW I’m spoiled) who was always so happy and agreeable…and now I know it wasn’t the ammonia she was sniffing. She spent hours wiping the walls... “one shot for wall”… “one shot for Danusha.”

Anywho…………..

I have also learned that vodka also has many other uses. It can remove the oil from your skin exposed to poison ivy and prevent the rash. It can dry out those nasty cold sores, and work as a facial cleaner by removing oil and tightening pores. Bring it on.

Add a shot of vodka to every bottle of shampoo and it will help prevent build-up and remove old reside from your hair. If you happen to be pulled over by a cop…I’m sure they’ll understand that it is only your hair shaft that’s been drinking and not you.

One added suggestion: Use the Popov for disinfection…but save the Grey Goose for ingestion.

If after you’ve done a thorough spring cleaning…and had enough clean living for the season….I say, “get down and dirty.” Just add a little olive juice to your vodka cleaner and you’ll have the perfect dirty martini.

Shades of Tiger

What did you think of the shades Tiger Woods was sportin’ during the Masters last week? I don’t ever remember Tiger playing golf tournaments with sunglasses, but apparently Tiger Woods has trouble with allergies…along with apologies…but we already know about that one.

Tiger was quoted as saying, “The pollen was killing me.” This skeptical Kat has 2 other reasons as to why Tiger was wearing shades.

Numero Uno: To distance himself from everyone…so he could hide behind his dark sunglasses and not have to make eye contact with anyone. Numero Duo: He figured people already thought he was a bad-ass, so he might as well keep-up the persona. Oh…and he didn’t want anyone to follow his eyes when he was scouting out the gallery for his next conquest. (Sorry, I couldn’t help slide in a third reason.

Anywho…….

Different styles of sunglasses can say a lot about a person.

The mirrored shades say that a person is gregarious and likes people around. Mirrored sunglasses have a way of attracting a crowd. I know I always search out someone wearing them…so I can check out my reflection and see what my hair is doing. And they are especially handy to help you apply your lipstick.

Teashades, the round, wire-rimmed type that John Lennon wore, say that the person is a throwback to yesteryear. Young stars are bringing the look back. I frankly stay away from this type. I’m approaching grannyville soon enough and I don’t need any throwbacks to plant my ass into a rocking chair any sooner.

The Wayfarer style says you are classic and like all things vintage. You probably listen to classic rock stations. You know WHO you are…Rock on.

The aviator style says that, in your dreams, you wish you were as cool as Captain Sullenberger…The Man of Steel Nerves…able to negotiate tall buildings in a single bound.

And Tiger’s Nike Overpass shades, in black, say to everyone: give me my @#$%^ space…or I’ll sneeze on you.

Personally I don’t think Tiger should have worn sunglasses in his first golf appearance since the scandal…even if he truly does have allergies. I think he would have been far better off without them. Red, watery eyes might have gotten Tiger some sympathy votes.

MythBusters

I watched the show MythBusters on the Discovery Channel for the first time. Have you seen it? Each episode takes a popular belief, internet rumor, or other myth, and tries to prove or disprove it using science.

The episode I watched focused on the myth that “the more you drink, the better-looking the opposite sex will become.” The theory seemed like a no-brainer…like a DUH to prove. Alcohol has a tendency to act as rose-colored glasses, so you won’t be as critical. Of course, your standards would be lowered…right down to the basement level…next to the dusty holiday decortions. But I thought the actual test to prove the “DUH myth” made for compelling, must-see TV. So I stayed tuned.

The test: 2 men and 1 woman were asked to rate pictures of the opposite sex from 1-10 and then come up with a total number score. They rated pictures of faces three different times…sober, buzzed, and blasted.

Guess what? The MythBusters proved what we all know. After enough drinks circulating in your veins…even Roseanne Barr will look good. It was a fun experiment to watch as the participants raised their level of alcohol…with every raised glass. “Hey Bartender, bring me another cosmo….I’ve got something to prove. Hiccup. I think.”

Anywho……………….

I remember back in the day when I was a lab rat/kat involved in scientific experiments. I was the actual “subject” in experiments in the Psychology Department at UVM. Not that I was a head case…but I volunteered my psyche to the study of the human mind…and to make some fast cash.

PaulA and one of his buddies also believed in contributing to the advancement of science…so they too signed up for psyche experiments. No surprise…their particular experiments involved alcohol. In the name of science...they enjoyed a double bonus….Bucks and a Buzz.

I wonder if UVM still uses students as human guinea pigs in their psychology experiments. Not that I felt like a guinea, or a pig…I eagerly volunteered to take part in those experiments. Besides…I am a benevolent and altruistic person and believe in helping mankind. Plus I didn’t know of a quicker and easier way to pick up some extra bucks for pizza.

I did draw the line, however, when the experimenters suggested hooking electrodes up to my head. Contrary to a popular myth on campus…No large, pepperoni, extra cheese, pizza was worth shock therapy to my head.

Chocoholics

Can’t control your chocolate cravings? Hiding a little choco stash from yourself (and others?) Find yourself sneaking back to your stash of sweet confections?

I’m afraid YOU may be a CHOCOHOLIC.

Hey, if Tiger can be addicted to sex, then people can be addicted to chocolate. Like Tiger...Chocoholics can’t control their cravings. Although, Tiger’s cravings were more skanky…than sweet.

Anywho………

There is a new product on the market to control these cravings. It’s called Le Whif - chocolate flavored AIR. (The Harvard professor who invented Le Whif is currently laughing his way to a Swiss chocolate bank.)

Le Whif comes in a plastic tube that you place in your nose and inhale. The essence of chocolate is supposed to control your cravings. There is no guilt because there are no calories. So go ahead…make your day… inhale away.

The particles in Le Whif are said to be small enough so they won’t enter your lungs and do harm. Okay, that may be true…but I think other risks could be associated with Le Whif. Le Whiffing could EASILY become habit forming.

Prolonged use…could leave Whif users wanting more to reach chocolate ecstasy. Users could become abusers and look for other means to get their chocolate fix. I wonder if that Harvard professor is working on a chocolate injection. (Note to self: Beat Harvard prof to a patent.)

Increased whiffing could lead to damage to the membranes of your nostrils…eventually destroying your entire nose. Whiffing abusers would be easy to spot. Le Whif could also lead to unsafe health practices. A Le Whif user should never, ever share their tube with another user.

Le Whif reminds me of the Vicks Nasal plastic tubes we had around the house when I was growing up. I used to stick those suckers up my nose for breathing relief whenever I was congested from a cold. Ahhh…. I became addicted to the menthol. I had to swear-off Vicks Nasal tubes forever. I was one nostril away from a total blow-out. Luckily I moved on to the less invasive Vicks Body Rub.

Hold on….light bulb moment. Maybe that is what the Harvard professor should invent next… a chocolate rub. Le Rub. Just rub the chocolate contents all over your body. It should come with a warning. Caution: Product may stain clothing. So go ahead…make your day…rub away.

Art Buff

Are you an art buff? Maybe an art history buff? Or just prefer art in the buff?

I enjoy art and have been to a few wonderful museums in some major cities…NYC, Chicago, and Boston. And also the Mama Mia of all locations….museums in Italy…Rome, Florence, and Venice.

If you prefer really old art...there’s nothing better than Italian museums. If you prefer art in the buff…you can’t complain either….plenty of naked statutes in Italy. If I must expose the naked truth…you can barely move without a barely clothed statue that is very easily seen with the naked eye.

Take the David for example…Michelangelo’s amazing marble sculpture located in the Galleria Dell’Accademia, Florence. It takes your breath away when you stand next to it….good for the art buff…and equally good for the lover of art in the buff. No fig leaves attached.

Everyone interprets art differently. I remember taking a tour in Florence and the guide explaining the symbolism in different paintings. I think some paintings are easy to explain. A still life of a basket of fruit means…there was nothing better to paint that day…the naked models had the day off.

For hundreds of years people have had their opinion of what Mona Lisa’s smile represents. We really don’t know. And those who say they know what her smile is about…I’m just not buying it. Plus I hear it's not For Sale. Personally I believe Mona Lisa was framed…and her smile is really a smirk… which means she’s hiding a dirty little secret. But then my other educated opinion is that she has allowed a gas bubble to escape…and Mona’s not owning up to it.

Anywho……..

Whatever your preference for art…I would suggest a trip to your nearest museum and support the arts….buff or no buff. Fig leaf or no fig leaf.

Yes Yes Yes

Tiger had YesMen. Michael Jackson had YesMen. Lindsay Lohan had YesMen/Women. When you’re at the top…there are people who want to get into your inner circle and stay there…pitch a tent and camp out. They will say whatever it is you want to hear…just so you don’t make them pull up stakes. They will…yes, yes, yes…you to death (sort of speak.)

YesMen can get a person in a lot of trouble. The people being yessed start thinking they are above reproach and everyone else is just a roach…easily crushed. This can lead to major crash and burn problems…as we have seen with many celebrities, politicians, and celebretians.

To prevent developing a serious case of "Inflated Egoitis"...it is very important to have people around you who will tell you the truth and not just agree to everything. That is why God invented Democrats and Republicans….checks and balances. The last thing they do for each other is say “Yes.”

Usually the people who are the most honest with you are your family. They are the ones to keep you in your place. John Mayer’s father has been quoted as saying, “John, if you were not my son, I wouldn’t have heard of you.” Well, I’m not sure what planet John Mayer’s father lives on…apparently it isn’t Earth…but I do like his no nonsense attitude with his son to keep John grounded.

Yes…the fam is usually who you can count on to keep it real. I have brutally honest sisters…Sistersledge and Sistersludge. Those two bookends make sure this Kat doesn’t rest on her past blog laurels. They will keep me in check and say: “Kat, that last blog you posted…well………kinda BOOOOOOOOORING.”

No 'Yessing' going on over in my camp. But if they ever want to go camping with me….they better start saying “yes, Kat”… from now on.

Tanning Coffins

As we all know, President Obama recently signed the Health Care Bill into law. A major bill of over 2,000 pages…major Bill in scope and major Bill in cost. To pay for health care reform Americans will have to cough up 940 billion dollars. The pricey sum is turning a few of us a sickly green wondering, “Whose hide is it gonna come from?”


One brilliant bulb idea already incorporated into the bill is to tax the tanning industry…to impose a 10% tax on tanning salon customers. They say it will generate 2.7 billion dollars over 10 years. I say, "why not?" The bucks have to come out of someone’s hide…even the tanned and leathered. But this has got the tanning industry heated up.

Some people are outraged and feel unjustly targeted with the tanning tax…saying that it could hurt business. But can it really do any more damage than UV light from tanning beds? “Indoor tanning, before the age of 35, is linked to a 75% increase in the risk of melanoma. The U.S. currently spends about $1.8 billion on treating skin cancers each year and $300 million on melanoma alone.” (I love Google for stats to make my point.) Wouldn’t fewer tanning bed customers help to reduce the future costs of treating skin cancers?

The average customer pays between 15 and 20 dollars per visit of 200 -400 nanometers of UV light. Hey mon, I say it’s still cheaper than getting on a plane to Cabo. Quit complaining mon. You’ve made your tanning bed, now lie in it…if you must.

I’ve actually been in a tanning coffin…many years ago before taking a vacation. Okay, I know it is called a ‘tanning bed’, but when the lid was closed….I couldn’t help thinking I was being permanently laid to rest. I don’t think a ‘bed’ accurately describes the look. My bed doesn’t have a lid on it…does yours? But I do understand that a Tanning Salon business advertising “Tanning coffins”…might find their business bottom line buried with no light in sight.

Anywho………….

The original Health Care Bill also included a tax on Botox injections…cutely referred to as “The Botax.” But the tax on Botox got blocked…in the same way Botox blocks any emotion from your face. Probably half of the Senators were unhappy with adding a Botox tax…but you would have never known by their expression.

The upside of the tanning tax is that …the new 10% tax will NOT apply to spray-on tans…OR sunless tanning lotions………the downside of the tax is that…we are now destined to see a lot more orange people walking around.

H2O Pure and Simple

“Would you prefer bottled, still, tap, mineral, vegetable, gas, no-gas?” Your H20 preference is your first decision when you are out for dinner. The next is alcohol preference…double, triple, up, down, rocks, no rocks?

When I dine out, I always choose tap water…no-gas. Tap…because it’s tasty and FREE. No-gas…because we all have enough natural gas already. I suppose if I was in Mexico, it would be a different story. I’d want bottled water with-gas. Bottled…because mucho germ warfare south of the border. And with-gas…because you gotta keep the bandidos away. Nothing like gas warfare as a good defense.

Bottled water has become the rage because it’s very handasy (new word I made up…handy + easy) to take with you on the field, court, course, and in your purse when you’re sneaking it into the movie theatre.

But where does bottled water come from and what makes it so special? If you have a thirst for this information…keep reading.

Believe it or not…Poland Spring does originate from underground water sources in Maine. Other bottled waters…believe it or not…come from municipal water sources…where they take regular tap water and run it through a filter system. That would be Aquafina and Dasani…not exactly the glacier and crystal clear mountain springs we naturally think of. (Never end a sentence with a preposition, Wishy.) There are some bottled waters, however, that don’t even bother with filters…they’re just tap, straight-up. You could be drinking Cleveland’s Finest.

Anywho……

Does bottled water really taste better than tap? If you lined them up and performed a taste test…I think you wouldn’t be able to tell the bottled from the tap. I hear a taste test of tap water from NYC beat out most bottled. Water-on-tap from NYC might be considered the Dom of Waters...but Guinness-on-tap is, by far, my favorite.

Some folks will buy a particular brand of water over another for status and sport it around the soccer field. Who decided FIJI Water has more cachet than the Stop and Shop brand I bought on sale last week?

I realize plastic packaging from bottles harms the environment, so we should probably limit our consumption. But let’s not limit all bottled waters. Especially water cooler bottles. Otherwise, where would office employees hang out and waste valuable company time…and most importantly, how would we keep the rumor mill churning?

April D' First

After posting 587 blogs over two and a half years, I’ve decided to pack it in, pull the plug, close-up shop. “IT’S ABOUT TIME. SAY IT’S FINALLY SO.”

I know what you’re thinking, “Sure you are, Kat. Today is April D' First…you’re trying to play us like fools, with a (lame) April Fool’s prank…ha ha.” Actually I was thinking, “What better day than April Fool’s Day to stop the foolishness and end the madness of this blog, but on a day that honors fools?”

After much soul searching, when I actually prefer salmon, I’ve begun to question the amount of time and attention I’ve given to this blog. Precious time I have squandered away, when I could have been doing something more productive...like putting my Advanced Degree in Macrobatteryology to good use. I could have been working on my invention for a lap top battery that holds power longer than the usual 15 minutes.

Anywho……..


Every now and then, I feel it is important to take stock of how I am spending my time….and to make assessments as to whose benefit this blog is really benefitting. I do admit, however, that I get enjoyment from writing this blog…no matter how foolish…or tongue-in-cheek. And it does give me a voice…although it is scratchy at times. But I’ve reached the conclusion that there is something else out there I need to conquer…a new territory…a new frontier…somewhere around Schenectady.

Have you ever realize how hard it is to bite your tongue when talking tongue-in-cheek?

So if you don’t believe my admission of an impending blog cessation, and think this is just a hoax…and that I could be showering you with an April Fool’s joke…I challenge you to check back tomorrow to see if I’m still wasting my time, blogging my face off. I just DARE you to log on tomorrow to see if I’m still blogging..................................PLEEEEEEEEEASE…..I dare you.