The Shortest Date Ever (No Pun Intended)

This is a story about a young girl-brained moron, out there trying to find true love. The heroine of this story was no stranger to Man eBay and had quickly learned the ups and downs of meeting men online... yet, she was always still hopeful.

Sure, she came across a few frogs along the way...

Yet, still, days she would spend, clicking away on the various nudges, ice breakers and poorly-edited emails that would come her way from the darkest pits of the online dating jungle.

Finally, one day a young man struck her fancy. He was smart, liked kids, had a good job and looked pretty smokin' in his head shots. They shared emails, then texts and then the first big phone call.She was sure, in her little girl-brained mind that this was MEANT TO BE.

She quickly got to work, preparing for the date.

When the night of the date came around, she sat nervously, waiting for the knock on her door.

She gathered all her courage, adjusted her cleavage and went to open the door for the their first face to face. Would it be love at first sight??? She took a deep breath and reached to pull open the door... And there he was...

All 5'2" of him.

Remembering her manners and that any free meal is one less she doesn't have to pay for herself, she walked out to the street where he had parked his car. His eyes gleamed as he opened the door for her and began telling her about the classic 1954 Mustang he owned and completely rebuilt all on his own. He explained he'd been working on the car for about 5 years with his father and had only driven it on the street twice before tonight.

The girl cared nothing about cars but could tell this was something special to him.

As he climbed with his little legs into the drivers seat of the car, she fought back an outward cringe as tiny hand slipped onto her leg. Her nails dug into the worn leather of the front seat as she tried to focus on tall things: basketball players, trees, giraffes...

Suddenly: CRUNCH.

After quickly assessing that no one was bleeding or missing any miniature limbs, she climbed out of the car and looked down on the wee lad and his t-boned car. Realizing that his misfortune was her treasure, she quickly called her roommate, who was simply 2 miles away in their apartment, and quickly offered her condolences, threw in a 'call me' and made a quick exit.

The next day, the girl thought about the little man and his crunchy car. Poor guy. She supposed the only thing that would make him feel any better would be if she agreed to a mercy date. Perhaps some time with this glamazon could make him temporarily forget his woes.

So she waited for the phone to ring with him calling to ask her back out.

And waited.

And waited.

To Only Further My Point...

... I'm starting to believe I might actually really suck at this blogging thing. If it's not bad enough that I mentioned fowl in a majority of my first posts (I refuse to say 'chicks' in this one... wait. sonofabiscuit... *melodramatic sigh) I'm now questioning my artistic abilities as well.

Take the following pictures for example. One I spent about 20 minutes on and was slightly buzzed down at my parent's boat when I doodled it.... the other was crafted by my brother. My 10 year old brother who I had to explain how to drag and click on the laptop before he could start.

Also extremely telling this this photo: my dear baby bro draws himself holding a baseball glove (or maybe it's a human head... who knows) and my self portrait is of me drinking a Bud at 7am in the morning. Also, I think his cursive is better than mine.

My mom would be so proud.

Dreams DO Come True

There is a man with a mother-f'ing machete in a tree outside my window at work. I kid you not. And if there's one thing mommy likes it's a big, sweaty alpha male performing death-defying acts of bravery and hottness.

It's going to be a good day.

Why I'm Going to Hard-Core Suck at Blogging

Um, has anyone else noticed that 3 of my last 4 entries have involved poultry in some way? And in the spirit of full disclosure, the only other post was me being lazy and posting a Second City video that makes me laugh. I'm sorry, but best line EVER: 'What do I think? I think you're 15 and a moron. You took rufies from a priest. Look at you. Look at your life. Look at your decisions'

Juliet was definitely a girl-brained moron... just goes to prove that we ALL could use a sassy gay friend around to snap us back to reality now and again.

Because lets be real, love can make us girl-brained morons do some pretty crazy stuff.

Wednesday, June 23 : Welcome to my world famous mother-lovin' blog!

"That's right, I've always been one to count my chicks before the hatch... " and "Chicks, you've been counted. Consider this your notice."

Wednesday, June 23: How fluffy little drops of adorableness sent me to the brink

I don't think I need to provide examples here of when chickens were mentioned, considering the whole experience of having 3 dozen chirping, blood-craving chicks running around my office and under my feet was bad enough and accurately described in this entry.

Thursday, June 24: Winner, Winner Chicken Dinner, This is God Talking

It takes a really special person to find God in George-Foreman-cooked chicken. "Chickens aren't so different from you and me... they're just out there trying to survive... trying to take care of their children'. Um, excuse me what what fecking chicken are YOU talking about? Do you imagine the chickens out in the forest, hunting for berries to bring back to their chicks or defending their nest from mountain lions or something? Hate to break it to you, dear Crazy Town Boy, but that chicken you're eating? Yeah, it probably grew up in a wire box about 9"x9" and ate discarded chicken parts for meals. Dummy.

Anyway, the completion of this post will bring my chick count up to 4 out of 5... not pretty. I mean, I could have at least picked something cool to carry as a theme throughout the site... like ninjas or wolverines or raptors or rabid hamsters or something. Dang.

Winner, Winner Chicken Dinner, This is God Talking!

I once dated a guy who I thought was just a GEM. Tall, athletic, funny and hottttttttt.

I was full of swirly, girly, gooey, unicorn-magic kind of love.




Where there a few red flags? Well sure... a few.


But aren't there always a few? I mean, if they guy is super hot and has ripped abs, doesn't he deserve just a little bit of consideration?




But one night, the shit hit the fan. Like really hit it. Like blew chunks of poo all over my unicorn of happiness.




The rest of the conversation when a little something like this:

Crazy Town Boy: And, Kate... listen. I know we've talked about how you need a man of God to get you into heaven. And I'm your man, baby. But I'm going to start referring to you as 'my sister in Christ' and we should probably stop having sex too.

Kate: Come again?

Crazy Town Boy: It's just that, I really love you. I do. But I had this great conversation with God and now I just -

Kate: I'm sorry. What?

Crazy Town Boy: Now, Kate... don't get -

Kate: So you're basically dumping me.

Crazy Town Boy: I'm not dumping you, I'm just -

Kate: You're introducing me to your friends as your sister and we're not having sex? All for Jesus... because... your chicken.... told you to be a vegetarian?

Crazy Town Boy: No, Kate. Not the chicken. Chickens don't talk. That's just silly. It was GOD talking to me through the chicken.

Kate: I see.

Last time I ran into Crazy Town Boy, he looked a little something like this...

This is what being a girl-brained moron can get you.

Every Girl-Brained Moron Needs a Sassy Gay Friend- Case in Point:

How Fluffly Little Drops of Adorableness Sent Me to the Brink.

Let me begin by saying I work in an office. Like an office with computers and spreadsheets and fax machines and other boring office stuff. I do NOT work someplace cool, like a vet's office, a farm or a top secret animal testing lab where they make rats have penises on their heads or anything. I wish.



So I really should have stopped to think a bit more when I received this package the other day.

But no. I was just excited to get a package at work. What could it be? WHAT COULD IT BE!?!?!? Flowers from a secret admirer? A gift from the members of the Board who felt bad about being such tools at last weeks meeting.

But then... wait..

Huh?

It was like a magical unicorn came into my office and took a big rainbow poo of happiness on my day!

Did I care that a delivery of 3 dozen live chicks was a little odd to get in the office? Hellz to the niz-zo! They were A.D.O.R.A.B.L.E. ... all fluffy and chirppy and chicky-like.

And they obviously loved me and needed me.

Loving. Loving. Loving.

Wait... what the... what the fuck? Um...

They were just gone. As quickly as they'd fluffed into my heart, they were... gone. Broken hearted, I held on to my last remaining friend.

And then there they were. Everywhere. Under my desk, on my chairs, in the corners, pooping on my super important grant proposal that I spent weeks working on... EVERYWHERE!

Swarms of them. FUCKING SWARMS OF PRECIOUS CHICKS (which are not so precious when they are surrounding you and probably getting ready to peck your eyeballs out... yeah, that's right. I saw 'Birds'... I know what happens. Evil little feathered spawns of Satan!!!!) Closing in. I can't even express the horror of what I experienced with those blasted little chicks.

Eventually, I had to call in reinforcement.

Maintenance guy on phone: You need me to come into your office to what???

Me: What are you not hearing me say? I'm being attacked by fluffly little baby chicks and they're trying to peck my eyeballs out!!! GET HERE NOW!

It's been 4 days and I'm still finding chicken poop everywhere.

Welcome to my WORLD FAMOUS MOTHER-LOVIN' BLOG!

That's right, I've always been one to count my chicks before the hatch... you know, like that time I bought 12 lottery tickets and through my crazy-good math skills decided that statistically I HAD to win, right? So then it made perfect sense to use all my rent money that month on a new 50" flat screen and a couple of hot outfits. Or that one time when I was dating the oompa loompa and thought it'd be a great idea to go pick out my own engagment ring because that was on his agenda, right? Oh, or maybe just yesterday when I was so pumped about the great workout I was sure to have after work and was so full of pride and awesomeness that I had like 3 value meals for lunch from McDonalds.

Okay, maybe those are all bad examples because strangely enough, none really worked out as I had planned.

But. This.

This is a winner. I can feel it in my boooooones!

This blog is going to be funny, entertaining, enlightning and educational. And most importantly, I really think it's going to make me famous. Like, really famous. Like Madonna-famous. And probably all by Thursday of next week.

People will read, they'll laugh, they'll send me little messages like 'Kate, it's like you're speaking to my SOUL' and I'll be gracious and send them back a message like 'Thanks, I would be nothing if it weren't for my fans'. And they'll be all like 'Wow, Kate. I have this cousin who's a 6'4" triathlete, 32 years old, never married, no kids, definitely un-crazy, super funny and rich. Do you think you'd like to meet him?' And I'd respond 'Well, I don't know... I have lots of admirers from this site... I'll think about it'. And eventually that fan will wear me down and I'll meet her cousin and it'll be love at first site and we'll immediately get to some hot humping and then start planning our wedding and move into his ginormous house with a pool and start thinking about having kids and deciding that our first little girl should be named Emery and that we'll totally pull a Brad and Angie and adopt like 12 more kids from all over the world and we'll be totally global.

Anyway, so yeah. I tend to be pretty positive. And as you can probably tell I'm also a bit of a girl-brained moron at times.

So, this is my blog. You're lucky to be starting with me this early in the journey- you can be all like 'What?!? You're just now hearing about the girl-brained moron blog? Ha. I've been following her for like 2 days already, sucker!'

I'm not really sure what this blog will be about yet... probably stupid stories that only I think are funny and stuff about my cats. But whatev.

Chicks, you've been counted. Consider this your notice.