Get In the Car, Loser
I'm Katie with a K. Catherine with a C.
I'm a writer and personal trainer and I live in New York City.

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June 23rd
10:31 AM EST

I Don’t Care If You Don’t Care

I’m from New York. I know you didn’t ask, but I figured you’d want to know anyway.

See, this is a problem I’ve recently developed since moving to a new state. I find myself injecting the fact that I am from New York into conversations that have nothing to do with one’s state of origin. It doesn’t matter what I’m talking about. I have an unprecedented talent for starting off any sentence with the words, “Well, I’m from New York…” especially when it is almost completely irrelevant.

Talking to the librarian while signing up for a library card: “Do you have proof of your address in Loudoun County?” she asks. “Well, I’m actually from New York (Wink, wink. Nudge, Nudge. Talk to me about New York.) and here’s an envelop my mom sent me with my new address on it.” She didn’t care.

Talking to the lady at the farmer’s market who started to tell me about her daughter who was coming home from New York for the weekend: “Oh my god, New York! I’m from New York! (Please, talk to me about New York!)" I said. Not a chance.

Talking to the instructor at the yoga studio: He asked me if I was interested in signing up for a package of classes. “Well, I’m from New York (Isn’t New York SO cool!?), I just moved here and I’m not sure if I definitely want to do it yet.” Nothing.

But, the day that I ordered lunch from the German restaurant and randomly interjected into my conversation with the cashier that I was from New York, I found out the secret to being from New York. Only people who are from New York will care if you are from New York.

"Get out! Get outta here," he said as he lifted up his arm to show me his New York Yankees tattoo. He didn’t have to say anything else. We proceeded to have a thirty minute long conversation. About New York, of course.

June 16th
7:05 PM EST

My bottle of facewash is stuck on the floor in my shower.

Well, ok it’s not literally stuck, but there is an enormous bug with a plethora of legs underneath it, so figuratively, yes it is “stuck.” The terror in my mind will hold it tightly in its place until Wednesday when it will become the cleaning lady’s problem.

All I can say is that I am eternally grateful I did not have my contacts in while I was showering this morning, because if I had actually been able to see what this thing really looks like, I think I would be dead right now. I don’t know how I would have died, but I just suspect that I would somehow be dead.

What I did see was some sort of large blob squirm from one spot to another. Naturally, my reaction was to immediately squish myself into the farthest corner from the blob and grab the closest thing I could find to be utilized in the ending of it’s life; in this case my bottle of face wash. For the rest of my time in the shower after that I stared nervously at the bottle out of the corner of my eyes to ensure that the blob didn’t escape, sneak up on me, and bite my head off. (A rational fear, obviously.)

I don’t feel bad that the cleaning lady might have a heart attack when she lifts the bottle to clean the shower on Wednesday, because I nearly had one myself when I lifted the bottle to sneak a curious look at it after I got home from work. This thing has more legs than any living thing should ever legally be allowed to have and antennae, oh my god, I don’t even want to describe the antennae. It’s too horrendous to recall.

All I know, is that I will be living in fear of my face wash bottle until Wednesday and that the cleaning lady better get rid of The Thing underneath it because someone needs to dispose of it permanently and it’s not going to be me.

Add to the list of things I loathe:

*Edit* Since I sound like a complete spoiled brat talking about this cleaning lady, I just want to point out, that it’s not my cleaning lady. It’s my roommate’s cleaning lady and she just happens to clean my stuff too. Sweet life. I’m enjoying it while it lasts because the next time that I will have hired help to dispose of dead bugs after I move out of this apartment will probably be never.

10:00 AM EST

Popular Opinion: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is SO Good

This is my second time reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and I’ve chosen to do so now so that I can particiapte in the One Book One Tumblr Project. (And because it’s one of my all time favorites.) So, definitely expect that several future blog posts (including this one) will be dedicated to reviewing the book. Since today is Lazy Thursday, I’m going to be lazy and start by pointing out my  Top 5 Favorite Quotes from the first (approximately) 50 pages. Tell me which is your favorite or if you think I missed any other good ones!

5.) "A lot of times I’d get that feeling like I was in the middle of a huge black ocean, or deep in space, but not in the fascinating way. It’s just that everything was incredibly far away from me. It was worst at night. I started inventing things and then I couldn’t stop, like beavers, which I know about. People think they cut down trees so they can build dams, but in reality it’s because their teeth never stop growing, and if they didn’t constantly file them down by cutting through all of those trees, their teeth would start to grow into their own faces, which would kill them. That’s how my brain was." (p. 36)

4.) “‘Why do beautiful songs make you sad?’ ‘Because they aren’t true.’ ‘Never?’ ‘Nothing is beautiful and true.’” (p. 43)

3.) “…and instead of singing in the shower I would write out the lyrics of my favorite songs, the ink would turn the water blue or red or green, and the music would run down my legs…” (p. 18)

2.) “What about microphones? What if everyone swallowed them, and they played the sounds of our hearts through little speakers, which could be in the pouches of our overalls? When you skateboarded down the street at night you could hear everyone’s heartbeat, and they could hear yours, sort of like sonar.” (p. 1)

1.) “‘Well what I don’t get is why do we exist? I don’t mean how, but why.’ I watched the fireflies of his thoughts orbit his head. He said, ‘We exist because we exist.’ ‘What the?’ ‘We could imagine all sorts of universes unlike this one, but this is the one that happened.’” (p. 13)

June 9th
3:31 PM EST

Unpopular Opinion of the Week

I hate cats. I hate them. I do. I used to think they were ok, but that was before I had to live with them.

Before I knew what it was like to really have a cat, and when the only time I ever had to interact with them was at a friends house or on the Internet, I thought they were tolerable. I would sometimes even seek them out and gush about their cuteness.

Now that I live in a house with roommates who have cats, I’ve come to learn what annoying little shits they really are, and I’m done. My relationship with cats is over. They can delete my number and say goodbye to ever receiving any affection from me ever again.

This isn’t an unprecedented hatred. I have evidence to support my loathing. For one thing, who walks across the goddam kitchen table while people are trying to eat? Get off the table, you’re a cat. And even if you were a human or some other life form, still, get your dirty paws off the table. We don’t walk on tables here.

Another thing, don’t hide under my bed and then come out and scare the shit out of me after I sit on it. Why were you under my bed? Get out! Go do annoying cat things to someone else. I don’t want you here ever.

So, let it be set in digital print that I am a dog person. A dog would never walk on top of a kitchen table. A dog would never come out of nowhere and scare the crap out of you. A dog will be your best friend and only ever ask you to throw the ball or scratch their head. Cats don’t do any of that stuff and they’re stupid. I hate cats. Dogs forever.

10:30 AM EST

Why You Will Hate Ironing

One of the first things that you will realize after you graduate college and get a job, is that you hate ironing.

I was one of the first of all of my friends to graduate and start working at a real person job in a real person office, and therefore the first of all my friends to come to this realization. But it wasn’t until recently that my hatred for the heated, de-wrinkling device was affirmed!

Kevin’s first day at his new job after graduation was on Monday. One of the first things that he said to me when I asked him how it went was, “I’ve also decided that ironing is the worst thing in the world.”

My response: Laughter and “I Know!!”

And this is why: If you get dressed and realize your clothes are wrinkled, ironing them will add at least 20 minutes to your morning routine that you probably don’t have. So, unless you planned on ironing your clothes, which, you never will, your only option is to pick a new outfit that does not require ironing. Unfortunately, sometimes picking a new outfit can take just as long. So actually, you can never win.