New Sunglasses Make me Squirrely...

So today I obtained yet another pair of sunglasses, pictured above. The events preceding this glorious purchase were as follows: 1. Be awoken by a silly little boy named Travis who deemed it fit to be vertical by 10:15 after being up past 3am. Right. 2. Drag my ass out of bed resume the horizontal position on the couch and watch a few episodes of Californication, which is retarded, but manages to be entertaining. 3. Decide to go to breakfast. 4. Lay around more. 5. Finally go to breakfast. Now this is where things got much more interesting. Travis, for one reason or another, had a duck-hunting-call thing (sorry, I'm not familiar with the appropriate terminology here) which by itself doesn't seem all that interesting. But, and heres number 6. When you blow the duck-caller at bikers on university ave. or any pedestrian, car with a window down, or construction worker, the results prove quite entertaining. Especially when you're listening to gangsta rap. I have never seen such looks of confusion fall upon the sorry faces who got hosed by two douchebags in a car with a duck-caller. HA! I love my life...

Anyway, I ate my food (two enormous pancakes much larger than my head) and some delicious Italian sausage procured at the Key's Cafe in St. Paul and then I bought my rockin' shades. Brent will be Jealous. With a capital J. That's right.

Kitty Becomes a Seamstress... kinda

Here is dress number one. Found this awesome retro fabric at Unique Thrift store (quite possibly one of my favorite places on earth). Then I proceeded to attack it in a very renegade fashion until I got what I wanted. That's how I do things.

Dress number two. Also attacked in a renegade fashion. Yes, I still do things that way.

So anybody wanna commission me? I need money...

This sums things up nicely...

This was actually a couple days before the 4th, but still, it's a good explanation of what cannon falls minnesota and america's/mary's birthday is all about... Gin and tonics in the afternoon. Good times.

Freedom Day

It went something like this:
-oversleep
-help mother with party preparations
-intermittently stop for cigarette breaks and drink refills
-party gets goin'
-realize I'm a little drunker than I should be at 3pm
-leave with Michael and James for a cigarette run - see Johnny on his way to our house on our way to town
-Hannah saves him
-everyone thinks that Johnny is my other Asian friend Julien
-I make a lot of cliche Asian jokes
-the sun sets
-B.A.C.'s rise
-we roast the birthday girl
-hilarious set of awesome music: jazz interpretations of songs such as "jesse's girl", something by Bon Jovi, etc.
-danced so hard and so long that my legs are still sore today
-too drunk to note anything at this point

good times....

Jo Ann Fabrics: The Bane of My Existence

Jo-Ann's. A haven for fat, crafty, middle aged women. The place is frigidly cold, probably because every old-hag working there is going through menopause. There is no music, who needs that distraction while one is trying to count yards? However, what Jo-Ann's is not lacking in is depression and frustration. I swear to god every woman working there is bitter, jaded, and pissed at the world, and as a result, SLOW AS HELL. My theory is, they move at a snail's pace because the longer a customer has to wait, the more important they feel. Instead of being just a fabric cutter they are now in control of someone's schedule. They stand idly by watching the toes tap on the linoleum floor, eyes rolling from the wrist to the ceiling, impatient sighs escaping from shellacked lips, and incessant fidgeting. These actions fill them with the knowledge of their power. The power to make someone wait 30 GODDAMN MINUTES FOR 4 FUCKING YARDS OF WHATEVER THE FUCK IT IS THEY NEED!

I shit you not I stood in a line of 3 PEOPLE, 3, for a half an hour. The woman in front of me only needed a foot of two different kinds of fabric, but (the inevitable but) there was this other bitch (the inevitable other bitch) who needed yards upon yards of linen. Apparently she was already being helped earlier, but had to leave the counter for one reason or another, and just happened to come back right before it was my turn. The sole fabric cutter, a portly, permed, post-menopausal lass, decided it would only be fair to cut her fabric first because she had been "waiting so long"... I watched as she cut six separate two yard segments, all the while chatting away, pausing, finding new spindles of linen because they kept running out, and tapping away on the bar-code scanner. Her loyal customer leaned against the counter occasionally fluffing her trashy femullet and inquiring about her niece's state of famine (which mind you, seemed to be quite the contrary) and if they should run over to "MAC"Donalds. By the time it was my turn I was ready to strangle both of the broads with the lengths of belt material I was about to buy.

Ahh, the joys of crafting.

Sorry, I needed to get that off my chest.

What's Wrong with the World: the new WWW

While very bored and Facebook stalking, I came upon some youtube link someone had left on another someone's wall. It was some stupid audio of Rachel Ray that was all pieced together to make it sound... you know... dirty. Hee hee...

BUT that's not the end of it. On the related videos there was one called "Rachel Ray Farting". Once again, this is not the end. You may be thinking, "But Kitty, how could anything get more repulsive and/or retarded than that?" Well, I'll tell you. Upon clicking on the Rachel Ray farting video (I mean come on, you would've too. It's like watching someone vomit, you want to look away, but you just can't) I found a myriad other fart videos. One, aptly named "Girl Farting", was this girl in a matching cami booty short outfit sitting at a computer desk playing some fucking mystical war computer game with her diet coke and marlboro light 100's with in arms reach.

Now, this is where I started feeling really horrible for actually wasting valuable time (not to mention brain cells) on this doesn't-deserve-oxygen-farting-bitch. Excuse me. The 3+ minute video was entirely comprised of her narrating her video game and shifting into various fart-compatible positions and then proceeding to comment on the, and I quote, "rancid" smells in the room.

The kicker is.......

This video was viewed over 2,000,000 times. Wow.

I thought of a challenge!!!

So! Here it is: what do you believe to be your inner age and why?
You, you, you, and you better answer!

Here's my answer:

I am 4. And here's why:
1. I enjoy the simple things in life such as: ice cream cones, playing little pranks on people (like putting a ball of lint in their hair and not telling them), skipping down the side walk, sleeping, dancing funny dances (usually involves interpreting weird actions or just a lot of unnecessary ass shaking), and, above all else, laughing.

2. I have very immature humor (aka I think poop is funny).

3. I have entered (or realized) a stage of intense nihilism, which I believe is something children do. They have their fun, they don't know why, and frankly they don't care, because they're having fun.

4. When all else fails, I resort to violence. You can hardly call it violence though because I don't think I have enough strength to actually inflict pain on anyone, just like a small child beating on their little sister.

5. Any time that it rains and the sun comes out afterwards, I go searching for rainbows. Oh, and worms.

6. If I could, I would spend all day, every day at the beach, which is the exact same wish that I had as a youngin'.

7. I don't like having responsibility - I'd rather just watch t.v.... well that's a little bit of an exaggeration, but not much...

8. I love being dirty. It makes me feel as if I've accomplished something through hard work. Really though, I just don't like showering.

That little he-she on the right is still the person I am today... ah to be four. Good times. Forever.