How's this for a Back-From-Holiday Post?

And by holiday, I mean hanging out in my living room playing computer games and dancing like MJ on the Wii.

It was probably way scarier than this movie.

So last night at around 1AM, I decided that I should probably go to bed like normal people. So I started to go through my whole go to bed routine; check the doors to make sure that Andrew locked them, check to make sure that Andrew fed the cats, wash face, brush teeth, pass out. After the face washing and before the teeth brushing, I realized that Lucy wasn't following me around like she usually does at night. I called her, nothing. So I go to check what was going on. The night of terror started there.

I found Lucy in the living room, staring under our piano. (Yes, we have a piano. Cause we're awesome. I'm just proud of owning a piano.) Both of the cats we're staring under the piano too. I'm thinking they probably just lost one of their toys, so I grab a flashlight and look with them. I find their toy mouse, which is extremely realistic. I then distinctly remember thinking "Wow, I don't remember it having shiny eyes." As I stand up, I see that their mouse toy is on the couch.

Reasoning quickly helps me figure out that oh my God, it's a real mouse under the piano.

She must have Misunderstood the Meaning of "Lunch Date"...

I went on a lunch date with Cow Eyes today at a local Indian restaurant. The waitress was acting really awkward the whole time; really fake smile, fumbling over words, eyes darting between Cow Eyes and I. Seriously, I've never seen someone act so awkward, especially someone working in the service industry.

Cause this is exactly what every single lesbian couple looks like.

I eventually put two and two together. Cow Eyes was rocking the fabulous short hair, androgynous look. We had little personal space and ate off each other's plates. Miss Stereotype-Believing Waitress thought we were lesbians!

I later asked Cow Eyes, and she thought the same thing.

Way to go, Waitress! She probably thought we listened to lots of Melissa Etheridge, moved in together after the second date, wear fanny packs and don't wear bras. And we that we were a P.E. Teacher and a pro golfer who had seven cats.

It obviously ain't a diamond that's this girl's best friend! *double snap*

God must be Punishing me.

Although I have no idea why.

I left the dog in the house for the day because it was so cold outside. So how do I get rewarded? With this.

As soon as I finished making this video, the shock melted away and I cried. A lot.

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Update: I can now laugh about it. God and I are on good terms again; we fist-bumped and everything.

I turn Friends into Lesbians

Or so think their moms. (You know you just saw the title and said LESBIAN WHAT?!)

Way back before I met my Hick man, I was hanging out with his cousin Miss Love all the time. I slept over at her house all the time, we danced our asses off at house parties, heck, we were "married" on Facebook. So you know that shit was official.


More like this.

One of those times, I had stayed the night and the next day was spent outside so by the end of the day, we were disgusting. So we decided to take a quick shower. So she lent me her old one peice tie dye swimsuit, put on her other swimsuit and we hopped in together.

Lucy the Bird.

My dog just spent 10 minutes pawing at the blankets on my bed, moving them around to make a big nest. She then proceeded to lay down right next to the nest. Go figure.

Parents at the Mall

Ok, so this is basically a rant against certain parents I see with their children at the mall. I saw all of this last weekend and it pissed me off so much that I didn't stop complaining for days. Andrew told me to leave him alone and to just write it on my blog. So TA-DA!

Acceptable for the mall?  Uh, no.

1. Clean your children. I saw a kid at the mall with a face full of dried up chocolate and ice cream. Was he currently eating? No. It was dried up. It looked like he ate an entire Dairy Queen for breakfast, and it was 2 pm at that point. Is it really that hard to clean your kid? Keep a few baby wipes on hand? Bring your kid to the restroom to clean them up? Hell, even do that gross grandma thing where you lick your thumb then rub the dirty off with it. Cause letting your 6 year old kid run around the mall with a dirty face makes us wonder how bad is the rest of the family's hygiene. Body odor? Skid marks?! (Yeah, I went there. You're welcome for the mental image.)

2. Dress your kids. This is also a hygiene issue, but is mostly a laziness thing. Why can't you dress your kids before going out in public? Really, why? I saw what looked to be a 9 year old in FULL PAJAMAS. It may have even been a onesie. But it wasn't only him. He appeared to have two younger siblings, all decked in pajamas. These were clearly from the night before (cause really, why would you make your kids start the day out in fresh pajamas?) and like I said, it was around 2 in the afternoon. The mom was all decked out like she was Victoria Beckham. Cause clearly, she had to look her best for the paparazzi. Stupid Posh-Spice wannabe (if you wanna be my lover.. )

I totally had this picture as a poster when I was a kid.

3. DON'T LEASH YOUR KID! I'm going to try real hard to not turn this into an angry rampage. But I can't make any promises. I saw multiple parents at the mall with their toddlers and young children on leashes, walking them like a dog.

For Godsake, just don't make them sing.

Now why in the world do you need to leash your child?! Unless you need a walker or cane to walk, you're child is mentally disabled or disturbed, or you have 5+ kids like the Wharvey Girls in "O Brother, Where Art Thou?", you have absolutely no excuse for using a leash. Are you really so lazy that you can't keep an eye on your child, hold its hand or carry it? Is it really so difficult to keep an eye on your child that you have to put them in a cute backpack that has a rope attached to it? These women only had one child, or if two, the second one was much older and able to take care of itself at the mall.

Seriously, I've seen women with more kids than the Von Trapp Family Singers deal with their children in public without restraining them in halters. So what makes the other woman so incapable to deal with one child? If you want to use a leash so bad, buy a goldfish! CAUSE CLEARLY YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE THE CAPABILITIES TO HANDLE A DOG!

Now that I've resorted to "yelling", I'm gonna stop myself now. But c'mon people, don't leash your child. Don't. Do not. Okay, I'm acutally done now.

An Hour-long Photoshoot and this was the Best we Got.

Happy Holidays!

From our family to yours... you know, your family... or just you, if you're an attention whore.

Anyways, eat lots of sweets and hug a jolly fat man.

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P.S. Got some hilarious outtakes from that photoshoot. Will be posting them later.

P.P.S. Thanks mom for being our patient photographer!

Overheard at Work III

Boss, to the other Boss: Hey Kara, can I take a picture of your box?.. I mean a box, not your box!

Both burst out laughing.

I work in a mature environment.

To Redecorate or not to Redecorate?

What, I can't stuff a pillow in them?!

That is the question.

And when I'm talking about redecorating, I'm talking about my blog design. Cause Lord knows I can't afford to do anything to my house. We're wayyyyyyyyy too broke for that. The last thing I bought for our house was gorgeous new red pillow covers for the living room way back in the summer. But then it turns out I actually bought placemats. So I ended up with two placemats that didn't match our kitchen. And so, not wasting the $14 I had just spent, I attempted to drape them over the armrests on the couch. Which means they fall to the floor in ten minutes and stay there for weeks. But damn it, I'm not giving up on them!

Woah, tangent. Getting back on track now.

I'm not sure if I still like the colour scheme and background. I don't know. I know that when I go to a blog regularly and it suddenly switches looks, I'm like "WOAH! I'm a creature of habit! I CAN'T HANDLE THIS!" so I don't want to inflict that confusion and anxiety on anyone else. But I also want people to open my blog and automatically think "Wow! This site makes me feel like a magical unicorn! I must read this blog so that I can feel even awesomer! I'M SO EXCITED, I'M MAKING UP WORDS!" I want it make people euphoric; like a good LSD trip. But better.

Yes, I am asking for alot from my background pattern. A ridiculous amount, in fact. I realize I can be kinda intense. But that's just how I roll.

Lucy has distorted self-perception. I can say that, because I have a BA in Psych. Which means absolutely nothing.

So this morning, I'm sitting at the dinning room table, eating my breakfast and getting ready to go to work, when my dog Lucy decides to climb on my lap. She starts with just climbing the top half onto me, but after a few minutes, she tries to inconspicuously get all of her 61 pound body onto my 14 inch wide lap.


This is the dog spread out over my queen size bed. I am not a
 queen-sized person. Also, notice the use of Tika as a pillow.



Needless to say, I noticed. But after a minute of struggling, we actually managed to get her to lay down on my lap.

And that, my friends, is a Christmastime miracle.





The Knight is a Metaphor for what?!?!

Warning. This post is messed up. Andrew thinks I should delete it. I probably will. But it just shows what sleep deprivation does to me.

Last month, I felt like absolute crap. One night, I had gotten up at around 3 a.m. so I could have a one-hour date with my toilet playing Spin-the-Nausea and Seven Minutes in Disgust. It was lovely, really. Also, while feeling sick, I have the weirdest bad dreams, like people chasing after me and some guy being hit in the head by a pocket watch, which then somehow melts his face. Yeah, I'm not even going to question it at all.

So the night after, my tired brain was determined not to have weird-ass dreams and thoughts. My brain decided it was going to be kept busy while trying to fall asleep so it would have less chance of having messed up dreams. (Apparently, that night I thought that the bad dreams were causing the nausea, and not the other way around. Proof of my declining common sense as the hour grows later. Really. Now that I think about it, it's the stupidest reasoning ever.)

So, how did my brain keep busy? By deciding to invent a Fairy Tale. Based on the biological happenings during conception. Yeah, I'm actually serious.

It's Christinetime! Damn, I mean Christmastime!

I always write my name instead. It makes for very confusing Christmas cards.

Last weekend, I finally realized that we were into December. So we decorated our place for Christmas. Ish. We don't have much for decorations, it's basically just a tree and.. well actually, it's just the tree. Here is a summary of the event through photos, captions and the piece de resistance, the video.

Andrew preparing the tree. Notice Sako's
head next to the big box on the left.

AND Sako's in the box now. Big surprise.

LET THERE BE LIGHT! Now onto decorating.

I'm BACK!

Sorry I've been MIA for so long. I was hard at work on my thesis presentation that was presented to the other thesis students and the whole of my university psychology faculty. And I literally just finished my presentation. And I AM RUNNING ON ADRENALINE RIGHT NOW! AHHHHHHH

It's like someone just stuck an epipen into my heart. Minus the hives or swelling up or something. Seriously. One of the professors commented afterwards on how energetic I was throughout my presentation. I don't know if he's saying I was being bubbly, or manic.

HEART GOING SO FAST!

I'm going shopping soon. Because my current high will make me impervious to my usual cheapness (financially). I will also be using big words, because THAT'S WHAT INTELLIGENT PEOPLE DO! I'm chronically smart and currently GENIUS. No filter. I have no filter right now.

I could do anything right now. I usually suck at skating, but I feel like I could compete in a figure skating competition. Or wrestle a bear. I want to go to an arcade and play Dance Dance Revolution.



Put me on expert, cause I'm about TO
CREATE A REVOLUTION WITH MY FEET.

The girl sitting next to me is a total Hipster condescending Debby Downer. She's on her cell using big words. Shopping now. Screw editing.

Tika Love

Here's some recent photos of Tika the cuddler. Here's a bad photo of me, while Tika is always adorable.

Woah, bad angle. My child hands look like giant hands.
You're looking at the hands now, aren't you? 

Andrew needs some Tika lovin' too.

Here's some more pictures of her.

She's a tubby Rockstar.

Getting Lucy II - (Or, "Thank God I Have a Box of Old Clothes in the Trunk!")

Chapter 2

So off we went to get Lucy, the newly-named dog. We drove to the sound of my Beatles anothology blasting. I sang along (i.e., yelled at the top of my lungs), Andrew occasionally grumbled.

We met Lucy's old owner in a parking lot of Wal*Mart (she was a classy woman). She said Lucy came with a doggy bed and toys, but apparently she ate too much and got sick on all her stuff (the dog, that is) so the woman threw it all out. That was fine, I just bought another bed and some toys at Wal*Mart.

The first picture of Lucy I ever took.

And so began the drive for hell. What should have been a one and a half hour drive became three hours. At first it was great; she happily sat on my lap, as cute as can be.

But after 15 minutes, she started drooling a lot, then gagging. Eyes wide, I screamed "SHE'S GONNA HUUUUUUURL!" as I frantically grabbed a plastic shopping bag and held it in front of her face. She then vomited in the bag.

Hardly detered, I turned to Andrew and said "I caught it! I actually caught it! We are so going to rock at this!". He gagged in response, although I didn't need to put a bag in front of his face. We stopped somewhere and threw out the bag.

The Blair Sako Project

Those are the eyes of a heartless cut-throat.

This is a video of Sako under the couch, being a ninja killer to Lucy's pterodactyl toy. Drama is increased through the use of nightime filming.

She's a Prehistoric Predator. SHE'S A SABER TOOTHED TIGER!

We support her choices as a nocturnal assassin.

Meow.

Manchu Wok with Booster Juice Makes us Crazy

Or at least, I assume it's that combination Andrew and I had for supper today that turned us both into basket cases. Many little things happened while Christmas shopping after our delicious food court date, but the highlight was definitely when we hit PetSmart.

I was walking around with Andrew following behind me when I spotted ginormous dino bones. They were too expensive, because Andrew and I are cheap and broke. That is when I heard a sort of crashing noise behind me. I turned around to find a big cardboard box displaying giant dog beds, and Andrew's legs sticking out of it, kicking like a drunk can-can dancer. It turns out Andrew thought he could just sit on the pile of pillows without them all collapsing. Turns out he was wrong, because he fell back in the box and temporarily disappeared, minus the legs.

It was beautiful.

Like this, but in a giant box of dog beds. And no cigarette.

I immediately burst out laughing, to the point of almost heaving. He got himself out and stated "It looked a lot sturdier. Like a couch or something."

Then, wanting to replay the moment over and over again, I ran to ask the checkout girl if the store had security cameras. She asked me why (probably thinking I was the dumbest thief in the world.) I explained the situation. She asked me when it happened and in what corner of the store so she could watch it later. Andrew got embarrassed.

I hope Andrew gets known as the Box Crasher by the PetSmart staff.

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In other news, I GOT ELF COSTUMES FOR THE CATS. Pictures will appear shortly.

Bi-weekly Time with Andrew

I like to call this special time "When I start yelling, it means they wrote it in Caps."

Pretty much everyday, I get bored answering phones. So one of my go-to websites for a little pick me up is damnyouautocorrect.com, where the proof is presented that iPhones like to make you send inappropriate messages to your parents and pastor by changing your words, like this:

HahahahahaBLURGH!

I then read approximately 5 pages of these texts, trying extremely hard not to laugh outloud. This results in shaking, crying, occasional snorts, and finally the feeling that I'm going to throw up. Right before I start heaving, I change websites to something more tame, because throwing up in public is so 7th Grade.

Okay, back-story ended.

This is what happens. Every other week or so, I'm sitting on the couch with Andrew when I suddenly remember autocorrects, how they rock my world and how Andrew avoids reading like the plague, and so wouldn't have read any lately. I turn to Andrew and say "Hey, do you want to read some damnyouautocorrects?!" He answer "Ok". His facial expression rarely matches the manic joy on mine.

My Kittens turn me into a Four Year Old

Here's the thing. Before these little fuzzballs, I had never really had cats in my life. My mom had a cat flip shit on her and jump on her head when she was a kid, so she's hated them/been terrified of them ever since. She'll totally deny it, but she does.

HOLY SHIT WATCH OUT MORGAN FREEMAN!

 Because of this, the only cat I knew growing up was my aunts' cat called Souris. And he was an asshole. He was fat, orange, and had a vendetta against me for some reason. Every time we went to visit, I would try to convince him that I was a great person and that we could be best friends and I would give him cat nip and toys IF HE WOULD ONLY LOVE ME GODDAMN IT! But he would only hiss at me and I would run away.

He looked like this, but I swear I never threw him in the water.

But even in this practically nonexistant relationship with cats, punctuated by bad experiences with an ironically-named cat (look it up, non-French people), I still felt like we could have a wonderful connection.

So after Andrew and I got Lucy, a black lab/border collie puppy on cocaine, I felt like I could totally handle a cat. I mean, you really just have to water them every once in a while and keep them in the sun, right? So I pestered Andrew non-stop to get one. After all, me being a good girlfriend, I wasn't going to just go and get one without his consent. Although I could get one against his will.

Point: I'm very, very persistent. I do not give up or back down. Andrew is neither strong willed, nor stubborn enough to win against me. So after three weeks of Andrew holding out, I could see he was starting to crack. So I took advantage.
We got Tika one day, and got her sibling Sako the next. I named them after guns in an attempt to appease the Hick Gods.

And ever since then, I have been in a permanent state of amazement.