This is a post

Ricky wants me to keep blogging even though I am clearly a little tipsy (one margarita on an empty stomach) and am having trouble spelling things properly. I already failed at my first attempt at a post in which I recounted how I blew-out the power in our apartment by simply making breakfast. (I over-estimated our old buildings electrical abilities and used the microwave, toaster oven, and electric kettle at the same time. The result? Luke-warm waffles, turkey sausage and tea, plus no internet for four hours.)

I am instead going to show these vanity pictures I have just taken of myself.

So. Attractive.

May I reiterate the fact that the reason I am staring off into the distance is less about good angles and more about the fact that six months after I bought this computer I dropped it on the tile bathroom floor at my parents house and broke the screen? Because it is. In fact, I now can only use this computer when it is hooked up ghetto-style to a huge desktop monitor. But, on the plus side, my macbook now doubles as an intriguing modern art piece. 

Which is why, after almost two years of torture and suffering, I am buying a new computer next month. 

So. That's it. I'm too inebriated to write anything else even remotely coherent. (This sentence originally read "I'm too inmebreaited to write anything else ieven remotnles xob=ehernt." Proof.)

I promise I will be back with vigor and witty-ness tomorrow.

Boom boom pow

Blog blog blog
Busy busy busy
Stress stress stress
Cookies for breakfast.

Full disclosure: writing this in the bathroom in between getting ready and waiting for cake to cool. This cake to be exact.

Happy Easter, Zombie Jesus Day, Passover, Rainy Seattle Sunday to one and all.

I have more scheduling conflicts at work and it's making me angry because I have been nothing but accommodating. Argh.

Ricky bought me my favorite cookie ever from Specialties Cafe and bakery as a surprise. Let's review: my boyfriend is the best.

I have not a lot else to say.

Internet Killed the Video Star

Sad news. I'm not getting a camera this week. I was going to buy a pretty nice one off of a friend, but things didn't end up working out, so it looks like I won't be getting one for a month or two. Getting a new computer and car are the first things on my list, so I'll have to make do with taking pictures on my phone for a little while longer.

Bummer.

In happier news, check out this video Ricky made me. I was working late last night and would be home after he went to bed, but he wanted to wish me goodnight anyways. So he sang me a song, posted it to youtube, and I downloaded it onto my phone and listened to it on repeat on the drive home (oh the wonders of technology!). My boyfriend is dreamy.

Feeling a little snarky.

Quick post today. Just the important stuff, guys.

I finally figured out some pet peeves (See April 11th, letter "p"). They include people who refer to their medication, or medicine in general, as "meds". I believe I find this annoying because no one in my family ever used this term, so I heard it for the first time in late elementary school. Hearing this new slang for something that I had been using for the occasional head cold and stomach flu my whole life made it seem like they were cool with medicine in ways that I weren't. They took their meds every day. For really awesome things like ADHD and allergies. They were almost cooler than the kids with broken bones (casts!) because their ailments were permanent. They were worldly and hip and were on a nickname basis with inanimate objects. They made me feel dumb. They made me look clueless. They needed to shut the eff up about their meds already.

Also, people who begin statements about themselves with the phrase with "I'm the type of person who...". For obvious reasons.

That's about all I gots for right now. I'm going to to continue my recent streak of posting totally unrelated pictures from my facebook profile because A.) I like having pictures on my blog and B.) I'm not getting my camera until next week so this just has to suffice.

I'm just the type of person who needs meds, okay?

P.S. I'm not actually, nor have I ever been, pregnant.

Winners!

I'm happy to report that my first giveaway was a big success. Not only did I feel super loved, but I now have the fun task of creating beautiful art for the following five commenters:

Geneva
Monique
Monica
Melanie
Stephanie

If you are one of these people, please e-mail your mailing address to katemosbarger@gmail.com so I can send you your prize!

Also, as an extra special bonus in honor of the "Stop Being A Creepy Lurker and Say Hi to Me Giveaway", I'm posting my favorite picture of yours truly being - what else - a creepy lurker.

You're welcome.

Here's What's Up and a Giveaway

I have some exciting new features for my little blog in mind. In addition to me blathering on about God knows what, I'll be featuring recipes I cook, fashion spreads, and interviews with people I like/find interesting. A new camera and computer are in store for me within the next few weeks, so things are about to get fancy. And kind of girlie. But mostly just fancy.

I'm currently wrapping up the show I'm choreographing, so with only two other shows on my plate plus work plus voice lessons, I'm CLEARLY in need of a new project. (That was originally meant as sarcasm, but it's actually true. I'm a workaholic.)

SO. What does that mean for you? Well I'll tell you. A normal post here at Blatheration gets zero comments. Zero love. However, according to my blog stats, I'm averaging about 20 pageviews per day. Not record numbers, but obviously SOMEONE IS READING. You guys, I know you're out there.

In an effort to get my readers to stop being creepy lurkers and say hello to me, I'm doing this new thing. It's called "Stop Being Creepy Lurkers and Say Hi to Me Giveaway".

The first five readers to comment either here or on facebook get a personalized art project made my me. That I will mail you in the mail. It will be pretty and you can frame it and it will smell like me you can cuddle with it. Sound good?

Kay.

Go.

Tax Day

I had to pay taxes this year.

I am angry.

I honestly hesitated when I saw the amount I had to pay and thought somewhat seriously about not paying. But, in the end I decided I should probably be a responsible adult about the whole situation. However, when I think about the frustration and crying and angry phone calls and storming into Kent School District headquarters I had to do to even get paid in the first place (and by "storming" I mean timidly going into to talk to the financial ladies and then more crying), it just seems all very futile and hopeless. This is the problem with being somewhat self-employed.

I realize I shouldn't really be surprised that I had to pay taxes on my choreography income since I had to do it last year. And the year before. But, you know, it's never a pleasant thing to do. Also, I choreographed the most shows in a year this tax year than I ever have before, so naturally I owed more than ever before. Blerg.

*A note on the crying: I am normally not easily moved to tears about these sorts of matters, but the lack of payment occurred about a week after Three Days of Torture '10 that I posted about a few days ago. I had no car, plus a ticket from the accident and tow truck fees. I didn't even have enough money to buy food. These were trying times.

This was a very interesting blog post about my finances that I'm sure everyone was really excited to read.

Here is a picture of me, my mom, and Maggie in Italy last year. Why the date says 2004, I have no idea.

I wish I was there right now.

Things My Little Sister Teaches Me

I was hanging out with my little sister Maggie last week and she taught me some vital information about a facial expression that up until this point I was unaware existed.

It's called Biker Face.

Biker Face: Adj. "The face made by an old, leathery, chain-smoking, biker chick when attempting to be uber sexy. 

Biker Face is achieved by sucking in your cheeks, pouting your lips, and smizing (a la Tyra Banks).

Hilarious.

P.S. The shirt my sister is wearing is self-produced and features a picture of her eating some green beans with the words "Corduroy Skirts Are A Sin" printed below. She also made one for me in gray. What a kid. If only I could be half as cool. 

That time I broke everything

I realized I casually mentioned that I was in the process of buying a car a few posts back, but I never elaborated on why this was a necessity. And boy, is THAT a good story.

So, without further adieu -

The Three Days in Which I Slowly Destroyed Everything I Owned (Including My Own Body):

It started innocently enough. February 2010. I was lending my choreographic skills to a group of Microsoft nerds who had formed an acapella group and needed some smooth moves and stage presence tips to help them wow the judges. I had driven my trusty Honda Accord, acquired my Junior year of high school and the only car I've ever owned, to their rehearsal space in Queen Anne. The house they rehearsed in was in a twisty, hard to find, neighborhood. It was dark. It was rainy. And, as the sole woman in a rehearsal full of four nervous computer geeks, it was awkward.

I finally escaped the rehearsal unscathed and grateful that the experience was over. I hopped into my car ready to speed off into the night when, as I was backing out of the driveway, I felt a little tug on the front of my car. My bumper was caught on a bush. For a brief second I considered going out there and untangling it, but, you guys, it was rainy and my night had been so awkward and I just wanted to go home and eat the cookies Alli had baked. So I figured my car could dominate that bush and decided to just pull out and let my bumper rip off that stupid little twig.

Well, that was a stupid idea.

I heard a loud 'clunk' and felt a very fast wooshy sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I scurried out of my car only to confirm my worst fears. That stupid twig had succeeded in ripping my bumper off my car.

But only half of it. The half that had engaged in Twig Battle '10 was laying defeated in the mud, but the other side was still steadfastly attached to my little Honda, ready to valiantly protect my car from rain and curbs and other cars. My first thought was to just hop back in flee the scene, but my front bumper hanging off obviously prevented that. BUT those Microsoft guys were getting ready to leave and I didn't want them to witness my embarrassing predicament (because they would mock me?) so I managed to back my car into a little tree covered alcove where I could hide my shame.

First I called my mom. Her advice?

"Go ask those guys to help you! They would be so excited to help a damsel in distress!".

No. Mom, no.

So then I called Ricky. His advice? Pretty much the same.

 OH MY GOD WHY DID NO ONE UNDERSTAND THE AWKWARDNESS OF THIS SITUATION.

Steadfast in my refusal to go back in there, I did what any normal person would do. I stood the freezing February Seattle rain and ripped off the bumper with my bare hands. It took ten minutes, but in the end I was victorious.

That victory was short lived, however, when after my victory dance was over I realized that I couldn't abandon my bumper with the licence plate on it. So then there were ten more minutes of struggling while I wedged the bumper into the backseat of my car.

The next day, still sad about my car's mishap but trying to stay optimistic, I found myself in my 8:30am Music for Dancers class. The class was just ending and I was on my way downstairs to the locker room to change for ballet. I stepped into the hallway and saw that the doors on the huge industrial elevator were closing on it's riders. Not wanting to be left behind and wait a whole three minutes for it to come back, I yelled "WAIIIIIIT" and took a running leap into the elevator. Normally it's sensors would have sensed me and opened the doors back up. But they didn't. The doors shut on my knee and slammed me to the ground.

Blood covered my jeans within seconds. The elevator gave a grating moan and shut down. Everyone walked to the locker room.

The puncture on my knee was small, but since it was on a joint it wasn't able to scab since I kept moving it to walk and stuff. After rinsing the blood out of my pants twice, I gave up and just rocked the bloody leg look the rest of the day.

Finally, class and rehearsals were finished and I made my way back to my sad car that I had parked near-by. Eager to go home and change out of blood-soaked clothes, I started pulling out of my parallel parking spot, when I car I didn't see came speeding around the corner. I stopped in time. She didn't.

The drivers side was destroyed. There was screaming. There was crying. The cops showed up within minutes.

After they assessed the damage one of the cops looked down and said with surprise,

"Oh my gosh! Do you need an ambulance?"

*Through tears* "Huh? No....I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Finally realizing he was looking at my bloody leg - "Oh! No, this was EARLIER. Different accident! It's cool!"

They continued to go about their business.

A few minutes later he exclaimed - "Wait! Where is your bumper?"

By this point I was just getting exasperated.

"It's in the backseat! DON'T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT."

Finally, a ticket and tow truck fee later, I made it home. I hopped into the shower hoping to relax - and shaved and inch and a half of skin off my ankle. Which slowly swelled to twice it's normal size. And turned into a staph infection. That forced me into the hospital and resulted in much pain, a reprimand from the nurse for continuing to dance on it it "because it could spread to the bone and force us to possibly amputate", and a tetanus shot.

I still have the scar.

A few days later my ipod inexplicably died.

To this day I have a sneaking suspicion that somebody cursed me.

You better work

I have some exciting news. I got asked to be the female model for the Value Village Halloween marketing campaign. For those of you poor souls who don't have this magical store in your area, Value Village is chain of super awesome thrift stores. I did some research and found out that it also goes by the name "Savers" in some parts of the U.S. and Canada.

Anyways, Value Village headquarters is here in Washington and one of the women involved in the marketing division also happens to be the stage manager for the show I'm choreographing, proving once again that it really is all about who you know. Anyways, the reason they're asking me to do this is because they have no budget to hire real models. Which basically is just lucky for me. I don't think I could make a professional modeling career work for me, but I am more than happy to be the budget-friendly, recession-version model for the odd bike catalog and thrift store advertisements.

I'm actually really excited about this. The theme is "Alter Your Ego" and they're shooting four different models (Man, Woman, Boy, Girl) in about ten costumes each to represent the many sides of a persons ego. Plus the photos will be used in advertising, print, and internet and in stores across the US and Canada (international!). PLUS I get a $50 gift certificate, which if you use on a 50% off day is actually like $100. So, basically really exciting.

REALLY EXCITING.

The shoot is in May, so more on this when it actually happens.

Some thoughts

I really hate confrontation. Let me rephrase that: I really hate the possibility that someone could or would be mad or upset with me for any reason. So, if I know that I have to tell someone something that is going to make them upset in any way, I avoid doing so as long as possible. Mostly this revolves around scheduling issues as I am a very busy person.

I like being busy, but it inevitably results in the occasional scheduling conflict.

This issue started in high school, when I was heavily involved in my school's drama department and dancing at an outside studio. I often had to miss dance class for rehearsals and vice versa and it seemed like teachers from both places were constantly upset with me.

Anyways, the reason I mention this now is that I've had a scheduling issue with work and rehearsals for a couple weeks now that I've avoided dealing with. Because I don't want anyone to get mad at me. Of course, the longer I avoid it, the bigger the problem becomes and the more mad at me everyone will end up being.

Sigh.

Good news is, I called today and got everything worked out and I'm not getting fired. Which probably was never a possibility, but IN MY MIND IT WAS.

I seriously stress myself out so much.

Gah.

Also, I like coffee.

I've been obsessively reading about Kurt Cobain on Wikipedia since last night.

I am still discouraged that the car I almost bought tried to kill me.

I miss dancing every day.

I like when mornings are sunny and smell like breakfast.

I would like to learn more about my family heritage.

I like the shape of my hands and feet.

I'm in the market for a good book. Am actively seeking suggestions.

I didn't buy a car today

I almost bought a car today. I've been searching for awhile for a car of my own and finally found one that fit my criteria on craigslist. I went with Ricky on Sunday to test drive it, it seemed great. Went with my mom to the bank today to get a loan, then went back to see the car again and take it for one more drive just to be sure. We were out on the road for literally two minutes when the car basically exploded. Accelerated when the brakes were being pressed, unexplainable shaking, weird engine noises, the whole nine yards. 

So. Yeah.

Not getting that car. 

I'm disappointed. This blog post was going to be about how I felt like such a grown-up buying my first car and all that. Now it's about me feeling like a turd because I nearly bought a disaster. I am now going to take a survey that's been floating around the blogosphere to make myself feel better. Because if you were friends with me on Myspace circa 2005, you would know there is nothing I like better than a good survey.


This is called the ABC's of me, or something fancy like that.

Age: 23

Bed Size: The technical word for the size of my bed is "full", but that does not describe the depth of awesomeness that is my bed. A brief history is as follows: I bought the vintage-looking cast iron bed frame at Ikea in 2008 but could not afford a mattress. I slept on a mattress pad laid across the slats for almost a year. Then one day my roommate Alli, casually mentioned that someone had thrown away a full size mattress in our apartment complex's dumpster, so naturally Ricky and I rescued it, dragging it through grass and mud to the safety of my room. So then it was mattress plus mattress pad. Then Ricky and I moved in together and he added his mattress pad. so now it's mattress from dumpster plus two mattress pads. It now shines like a heavenly beacon of comfort and luxury.  

Chore you hate: Laundry. I never minded this until I moved into this apartment that doesn't have a laundry machine in it with a boy who has lots of dirty clothes. Now I lug huge amounts of laundry around with a pocket full of quarters and I hate it. 

Dogs: I have never owned a dog. My madre is not a fan and Ricky is allergic. Also, I'm very apathetic when it comes to animals.

Essential start of your day: Breakfast. I have to eat right away or I get woozy and headachey. Also, on most days I work out in the morning. I feel really blah if I don't work out and getting it done right away seems to be the most productive way to do it.

Favorite Color:  Eh, I don't think I have one. I don't really like orange though, if that helps. But wait, no, I kind of do. Ah! I don't think I can not like colors. Or pick a fave.

Gold or silver: Silver for wedding rings. Gold for most other jewelry. And pirate booty.

Height: 5'6.5” Almost tall enough to qualify for ANTM, but not tall enough that I feel like an Amazon woman.

Instruments I play (or have played): I played flute all the way through high school. I also play a mean kazoo.

Job Title: cocktail waitress, freelance choreographer, dancer, actress, singer, bike model.

Kids: None, for the moment. I don't foresee myself having kids of quite a few years still, but someday I will and they will RULE.

Live: Seattle, WA

Mom's Name: Cecile 

Nickname: Technically "Kate" is a nickname since my actual name is Katherine, but I've always gone by Kate since forever so I don't really count that. Musical theater friends often call me Kate Monster. My mommy used to call me Kate-the-Great-on-Rollerskates.

Overnight hospital stays: I've never had to stay overnight for a personal ailment, but me and Ansley used to have some pretty rockin' hospital sleepovers in which we ate Pringles, watched Friends marathons, and I slept on the fold-out armchair. 

Pet Peeve: Er, I feel like I have so many, and yet I cannot think of any right now. I'll get back to you.

Quote from a movie:  I can't think of one. But I love 30 Rock desperately. Here is quote:

"The writers can't take a car service at night anymore. I've crunched the numbers and it's cheaper for us to just replace anyone who gets murdered."

Right or left handed: right

Siblings: Ahh, always an awkward question. I have two. Ansley, who passed in 2008, and Maggie, who is 16.

Time you wake up: Anywhere between 9:45 and 1:00pm, depending on how late I worked the night before.

Underwear: I buy the Victoria's Secret 5 for $25 panty deal all the time. ALL THE TIME. I really love having new underwear.

Vegetables you dislike: I like everything except olives. And I'm actually pretty okay with olives.

What makes you run late: Normal stuff. Waking up late, lolly-gagging on facebook, putting together the perfect outfit, staring at myself in the mirror...

X-rays you've had done: Both arms, chest, and teeth.

Yummy food you make: I love cooking, so I make lots of yummy things. But I think my favorite things are slow-cooked pulled brisket and the passed-down family recipe for spaghetti sauce.

Zoo animal: As I mentioned before, I am pretty apathetic about animals and therefore have not been to a zoo in many years. I think I like monkeys.

Spring Shopping Spree

I did a thing today, you guys. Not necessarily a bad thing, but a thing nonetheless. It was kind of reckless, probably unwise, and entirely premeditated.  

I bought a bottle of J'Adore Dior perfume.

But, okay, here is my rational. I have never, ever in my life bought designer anything. Not a single Coach purse, no Betsey Johnson dresses, never a Tiffany's bracelet, and not once a pair of Louboutin shoes. Heck, I've never even bought Uggs (although HA HA why would I ever? Jay Kay, as fugly as they are and as much as I would be embarrassed to own Uggs, I often sneakily wore a pair belonging to my old roommate because they are so comfy and nice to wear to and from dance classes. I also sometimes wore her Northface but SHH DON'T TELL ANYONE.)

More rational: I've been really good at not spending crazy amounts of money now that I have a steady income. I've been faithfully putting ten percent of my wages and tips into savings and, for the most part, I haven't  bought anything outrageously outlandish. So, I think I deserve it. Right? Right.

Good, I'm glad you agree, because LOOK WHAT ELSE I BOUGHT THIS WEEK!

I may have gone a little overboard.

But my spring shopping is done and I'm very satisfied with my purchases. Very satisfied.

Okay, no more spending money. For real.

What's on your spring wishlist? Do you ever go overboard when shopping? Aren't my dresses pretty?

Happy Spring!

More thoughts on happiness

I feel like a lot of my posts of late have been dedicated to things that make me happy. Which is obviously not a bad thing. I think that actively thinking about things that make me happy helps me appreciate those things and therefore makes me happier. Because not only am I happy, I'm aware of why I'm happy, and that makes me happy. Ya dig?

Anyways, I'm going to try and make those happiness lists a regular feature here. Mostly for my benefit, but hopefully I can inspire other people to be more aware of when and why they're happy. And that would make me happy.

Speaking of happy, when I was applying for colleges I went to an NYU college-fair thingy (I actually applied to NYU and went to New York to interview, but that is another story. That I might write about tomorrow.) they talked about how they allow you to design your own major if your interests don't fit into one of the typical college degree paths and there was this girl a few years back who majored in Happiness. I think that is beyond cool.

Ricky bought me flowers yesterday, for no reason except for that he loves me. Super happy.

Okay, subject change. I was thinking today about direction and where I'm going and why I want to go there. And I realized that with my profession it's hard to have much of a plan beyond work hard and audition and hope and pray and see where you wind up. Because although there are so many amazing parts and shows and dance companies and choreography gigs out there, the chances of getting all of them are slim, and the ones that you do get are unpredictable. And unplanned. And I'm really, really okay with that. I think that not having a plan is really scary for a lot of people. But I just realized that I have no idea where I'll be this time next year, and that is really exciting.

So. Yeah.

I have a cute boyfriend. I have a cozy apartment. I have rehearsal tonight. And a glass of wine when I get home. And a new book to peruse.

That's what makes me happy.

The Bike

Before I dive into this little story, I have to explain something about our apartment. It's not an apartment in an apartment building or complex but is, in fact, a huge turn-of-the-century house on Capitol Hill. I just did a little google-sleuthing and found out that when our place was built in 1901 it was a lumber baron's mansion. I'm not sure when the building was remodeled to be individual apartments, but I love thinking about all the people who may have lived here before me. My little bedroom has been sitting here in Seattle through the Roaring Twenties, the Great Depression, both World Wars, landing on the moon, Kennedy's assassination, and obviously so much more. All the things that could have possibly happened in these rooms astounds me.

 The outside.

Our bedroom, pre-stuff. Also, I adored the tree outside the window until one unfortunate day last summer when we woke up to the sounds of the city cutting it down. It was a sad day indeed.

So where am I going with this? Well, a couple of years ago I modeled in the Raleigh America bike catalogue and in addition to having an all expenses paid trip to the Oregon coast for the shoot, I was awarded a free bike for my efforts (my life is series of very random events). I was allowed to choose any bike I wanted and I went for one of the ones I enjoyed riding during the shoot, a 2007 Beach Cruiser.

Mine is green with a white seat. More vintage looking.

Long story short, I never rode it. It's kind of big and bulky and not really meant for city transportation, and since I'm not a seasoned bicyclist, I always got really nervous and feared for my life whenever I took it for a spin. I wanted to sell it when Ricky and I moved into this apartment but both he and my mom flipped out and said I would obviously ride it all the time. So I locked it up outside and forgot about it.

Months went by and every time my bike crept into my head I was overwhelmed with worries about it being either rusted beyond belief or stolen, and the more time passed the more sure I was it was gone for good. And the more sure I became, the less I wanted to go out there to check on it and confirm my beliefs. 

Finally, I mentioned to Ricky's sister Kristine while she was here that I had a really cool bike that may or may not have been stolen. She is a rational person and therefore forced me to go check on it, and lo behold, there it was. A little dirty, but perfectly intact, and is now chilling in the really scary basement in the bike graveyard. (Why our building has a basement room full of abandoned bikes surrounded by mousetraps I do not know.) Also, when I thought about writing this post I think I had a reason for explaining the way our apartment looks, but now I have to idea what it was. Those two thoughts are totally unrelated. Whatever, I'm keeping it.

BUT YAY YOU GUYS I HAVE A BIKE!

So, that's that. Really awesome story.

Also completely unrelated - I was scheduled to work until midnight last night and they ended up making me stay till two. Not a big deal, but it made me realize that with this job you can't be like "Oh, uh, sorry I can't. I got a thing." Because it's two in the morning and what thing could anyone possibly have at two in the morning that isn't working or sleeping?