Wednesday, September 24, 2008
This admiration ended today.
I was doing the norm, looking up a few addresses, etc. when I realized how fancy the website had gotten. It now informs you whether the address and phone number listed is the person's work or home number and who else might be residing at their same address. It also lists where else he or she may have lived in previous years, and allows you to purchase (for a small fortune) a brief history of anyone with a social security number.
So I did it. I "whitepaged" myself. At first everything seemed fine. It showed I had a previous address in Collierville, TN (Memphis) and one in Decatur. I trusted their free information was correct and opted not to fork over the $54.99 to be sure.
Then I scrolled down and saw it: "Katherine Klepper.....Age 40." FORTY for craps sake!!! I haven't even celebrated my 30th.
Now, I don't know if this is some kind of sick joke set into motion by a person from my past who works for their company and has it out for me or if it is a legitimate mistake, but no one ages me that many years and screws me out of that many birthday gifts at the same time. Whitepages.com, either fix your misprint by 0400 hours on Thursday or I'm suing your inaccurate booty for defamation of character. In fact, as many people as you have listed on your website I bet we could get a little class action business going.
(ATTENTION READERS: If you have been defamed by whitepages.com please contact us immediately.)
I am serious. This is not a joke. Fix the lies you have listed on your website.
In separate but related news...Today's Lesson: pretty much everything you read on the Internet is false.
Monday, September 15, 2008
I have grown to enjoy some parts of this Saturday ritual, but even after drinking the Kool-Aid for many (many) years Auburn football still doesn't trump a proper fashion show swag bag in my mind. But marriage teaches you things. Just as Carl has learned the importance of Vogue's September issue, I've learned that Auburn in HD fails in comparison to seeing them in the flesh. And so follows a few other things I've learned in the almost two years of marriage to a footballer.
1. Ask before you invite. Although we females enjoy viewing our favorite sporting events (Oscars, Emmys, MTV Music Awards) surrounded by hundreds of our closest friends, oddly, males don't necessarily want to share the big game with them. Some prefer to experience game day solo - so they can blurt expletives and throw chicken wings at their flat panel without judgement.
2. As a person with an appreciation of aesthetics I naturally have a love for fashion. Carl calls it an obsession, whatever, pre-med/pre-law. Anyway, I've learned that kick-off isn't the time to ask your husband's thoughts on 3/4 vs. opera-length gloves. The only thing you will successfully accomplish is raising his blood pressure.
3. Your husband doesn't care (especially during an extra point kick) that the "HeatGear" technology in the team's uniforms, designed to keep players cool and dry in extreme heat, is similar to the moisture-wicking fabric found in a brand of pajamas for menopausal women.
4. If you walk softly and carry a case of your husband's favorite beer he'll be much more inclined to hand over his credit card, sign off on Botox or agree to give you half of his already minuscule closet space.
5. Football season is the best time of year to recover your dining room chairs, purchase new draperies or paint the entire exterior of your home (just don't touch the room that houses your hubby's favorite TV). Your beloved will be so wrapped up with game day he won't even notice the changes until well into February and by then you will have them paid off.
6. It's considered in poor taste, unAmerican even, to suggest your spouse sell his AU/LSU tickets for a hefty profit so you can buy fabric for new throw pillows for your living room sofa.
7. If there is ever an overtime situation it's best to avoid conversations that begin with: "What do you want (insert dog's name here) to be for Halloween?"
With the better part of a football season ahead of us I'm sure there is lots more to learn. Stay tuned...
Please note that this particular bath actually occurred weeks ago so don’t call social services just yet. He’s had several baths since; it has just taken us a while to post pictures. We don’t want anyone thinking we’ve waited this long to bathe the poor guy. What kind of parents do you think we are?!?
We also wanted to share a few photos of Bogey’s latest sleeping position and beautiful new bed. We call it the Spread Eagle Royale. Clearly, he finds his new digs comfy.
Question: When is it appropriate to decorate your pets (and house) for Halloween? Please advise. Bogey really likes sporting his “Trick or Treat” bandanna so we hope we aren’t breaking protocol. I also fished out my “If the broom fits…ride it” tea towel but I don’t think it is Halloween specific.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Carl has a big test coming up so he was unavailable to entertain me. His nose was constantly stuck inside the pages of "The Complete Internal Revenue Code" and as enthralling as that title may sound it's not really my cup of tea. I was forced to amuse myself.
So there WE were: Blue Bell vanilla bean ice cream, DiGorno four cheese rising crust pizza, Sargento string cheese twisters, Jose Ole grilled chicken & three cheese quesadillas, Maizetos Fiesta Pack tortilla chips, Pace chunky salsa (medium), Rold Gold mini pretzel twists, and Me. Clearly, by Sunday evening I was feeling fat, greasy and guilty...but mostly fat.
In a moment of sheer desperation I frantically tried to decide whether it would be easier to exercise the calories off by alternating laps around Delano Park with sets on our Ab Lounge OR convince the weekend staff at Decatur General's ER to prescribe me a super laxative. (Could they surgically remove the food? Would my insurance cover it?) Instead, I decided to call on my favorite superheros for inspiration - Elle Woods and Cher Horowitz, the stars of "Legally Blonde" and "Clueless" respectively.
These ladies have it together. They're smart, funny, beautiful and know exactly what they want. Cher took a less-than-stellar report card situation and turned it into the chance to help her teachers, and eventually herself, find love. Elle handled getting dumped by her boyfriend with poise and grace - by getting into Harvard Law, winning the case and finding new, better love.
After my four hour movie marathon I felt refreshed, renewed and slightly less bloated. Elle inspired me to give myself a manicure and pedicure (OPI Second Honeymoon), and Cher, to exercise, finalize my outfit selections for the week and "do something good for humanity." My peace of mind was restored. Carl even glanced up from the pages of his textbook to compliment me on my nails!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Thursday, September 4, 2008
While Michelle Obama and Cindy McCain share little in common, they both do possess an appreciation of fashion and a smart sense of style. While it's a talking point political analysts often side-step, it may be the one thing that successfully holds my attention for the duration of this year's race for the White House.
Oh the femininity, luscious textures and masterful tailoring...I'm clearing a space on my coffee table for the book right now. These are a few favorites I hope make the cut.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
In case you're unfamiliar, Albany is the beautiful historic district in Decatur in which we live. Every Friday we meet at the home of our Patron Saint of Albany, Margret Ann Templeton, for "8th Ave. Culture Club." This is a tradition that has been alive for 20 plus years and Margret Ann happens to be our across the street neighbor. At one of our regular "Culture Club" sessions the idea of a neighborhood girls softball team was thrown on the table. We, of course, in all our gin-soaked glory, thought it was the greatest idea and immediately agreed to play. The fact that we'd actually have to play softball never occurred to us...we just thought we'd get to buy a pink glove and platform cleats and that would be the end of it.
The following day much of our roster began back-peddling with excuses of work commitments, family obligations and manicure horror stories. Many of the previous night's most enthusiastic signers were one-by-one raining on our estrogen parade. If Albany was to have a team at all (read: if we were going to get to buy pink gloves and platform cleats) we would have to withdraw our "pink skorts only" rule and recruit our husbands, brothers and cubicle mates. We would have to go co-ed.
And so began what will surely prove to be the most stressful four weeks of our husbands', brothers', etc's lives.
Naturally, I immediately volunteered Carl to coach. I figured he didn't have enough on his plate with intense casework, attending classes to earn his legal masters in tax law and studying for tests and exams. Surely the only thing lacking in his already over-packed 24 hour days were holding tutorials on the fundamentals of softball and recruiting enough decent players so he would never actually have to put us on the field.
So Tuesday arrived and the original "Angels" took their designated places on the dugout's bench. We led a few cheers, heckled the other team, snapped a photo or two and discussed the best place to get your eyebrows waxed. All the normal chit-chat one would expect from a serious sports team. Then something unexpected happened, something we weren't prepared for. Carl actually put us in. I hadn't even bought my glove yet. All the pink ones were on back order.
Now, I'm not one to brag but I'm about to...
Of the two points we scored I contributed in great part to one of them. Up at bat, I blindly swung at the first pitch and by some miracle made contact. The ball bounced between the pitcher and second baseman and again, by some miracle, I got to first base faster than my opposition could get the ball there. And while I was running to first, Carl was running from third to home plate. My hit successfully sent Carl home to score our team's second of two points. Shortly thereafter I was thrown out at second base and the game was over but I didn't care. I had earned my very own RBI.
Post-game we toasted with a celebratory beverage at Hard Dock Cafe, our team's sponsor. Everyone was excited, mostly that we had survived our first game with minor injuries but me about my awesome miracle play.
Our next game is Thursday and based on how well we did in Game One, I predict we get to play at least five innings. I guess this means I need to take my name off the wait list and buy a glove, gasp, off-the-rack.