I wasn't spawned from a computer, just raised by one.

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Nice Knowing You, Self Esteem

Almost everytime I use my Myspace account this ad invariably appears on my sidebar.

I will be the first to admit that I am anything but the ideal, but come on people! Let's take advantage of a site who's target demographic includes an insane number of young and often very impressionable, teenage girls to run an ad that pairs the above image and the word "over-weight". (Personally, I would die of happiness if I could fit into this chick's above designated "fat pants".) Body image bombs away!

Chocolate anyone?

Friday, November 28, 2008

The Reason God Gave Us Friends

So they can send us sthuff like this:

Ya' buy one unicorn t'shirt...and have one unicorn key chain...and draw one unicorn tattoo (not even for you)...and it's like an issue or something.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Thanksgiving Recap

I hope everyone had a great holiday. All in all, ours turned out better than expected.

Wednesday: I ended up meeting with some friends for a teenager only Thanksgiving. Four girls, one turkey, one massive food fight.

I'm not sure how it started exactly. One moment everyone was sitting at the table enjoying their pecan pie and arguing over how well the cool whip was being dispensed when Nikki decided that Megan's face needed some. Megan ran outside carrying a full tub of cool whip as we tried to figure out what we could chase her down with. I scooped the whip cream off the top of my pie and lead the charge outside...leading Meg to dump half the tub directly on to my chest. Not exactly a smart idea seeing as I now had half her ammo (and what a convenient little shelf for it too! :P). Next thing I know everyone is scooping whip cream off each other and smashing each other in the face with it.

The end? Of course not.

Megan went to take a shower, leaving the three of us messy and alone to plot. Nikki had opened the bathroom door and had socked Megan right in the back with the last of the whip cream, but it just wasn't enough. Nikki said that we should wait until she got out and then jump her, but with what? That's when I saw the jar of peanut butter sitting on the counter. just then we heard the water cut off. What we didn't count on was that she was armed, too: shaving cream. The smelly kind. As she creamed Cora in the face I smashed two giant handfuls of peanut butter on head. Leading her to come at me with the rest of the pecan pie, despite my attempts to hide behind Nikki. (She ducked - traitor.)

Thursday: For dinner we went to Carmela's, a small Italian restaurant. I was a little wary... turkey ravioli? stuffing lasagna? It was actually really good.

On a more serious note: My sister and her family came down. It was good to see them, I just wish it had been under better circumstances. My brother in law's honorary grandmother passed away, the funeral is tomorrow so they drove down to be with his mom. They stopped and had lunch with us before continuing South. If anyone reading this is in the habit of taking prayer requests, it would be much appreciated if you could pass some their way. I know today must have been very hard for their family. Hopefully, we should see them again before they head back to Georgia.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008


I've never been a big fan of perfume. I don't wear it personally. I figure my shampoo and soap do the job. Maybe it comes from having really bad allergies as a kid or from my mother's overpowering love of Obsession by Calvin Klein. Or possibly because my skin's so sensitive I don't bother to run the risk of buying something that may just end up making me itch. Whatever the reason, I prefer to go without. This being said, gentleman, when I drive by you...in my car...with the windows up...I should not be able to smell you and I sure as hell should not be able to smell you so well that I can decipher not only that you've drowned your self in cologne, but that your poison brand of choice is AXE Essence. The prefered amount is spritz spritz, not glug glug. No?

Also, I was reading LemonySarah's blog and she had a thing up where you are suppossed to post the sixth photo from your sixth photo album . So here goes:

It just so happens that my sixth album in my Pictures album is intitled "Avvie Love" and is a collection of adorable pictures/avatars that I have collected off the interwebs. Now it's your turn. If you do so, leave me a comment so I can check your blog post out.

Monday, November 24, 2008


I really should be working on my sketch for tomorrow's class, but in a last ditch effort to procrastinate I've been surfing the blog world. I'll undoubtedly end up polishing it off over reruns of Fraiser, The Golden Girls, and The Nanny far into the wee hours of the morning. In the mean time I'll write here.

It's been an odd couple days. On a high note I spent an amicable day with my mom surfing the isles of my hometown’s Seafood Festival. Where I bought part of what will become my niece’s birthday/Christmas present pack extravaganza (I’d post what it is, but I don’t want her to happen across this and ruin the surprise), approximately 20 new books for about 8 bucks, a crab cake burger, a super cool ring that’s shaped like a bird taking flight, and some very pretty bracelets.

On an extremely low note I lost one of my little girls, Penelope. For those of you who don't know, i.e. everyone, Penelope was a very sickly hairless rat, and despite the fact that she had stopped growing in size months ago and that her weight fluctuated constantly I was still sort of blindsighted. She's been sick pretty much the entire time that I had her so I guess I just figured she'd continue to pull through. She was always very active and so affectionate. She will be missed. I just wish that I had taken some pictures of her.

I can't believe this year is almost over. It doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving to me. It’s weird. I remember when I was a kid, there was always this big to do, unorthodox sure, but it was a big deal. All the relatives would come to my parent’s restaurant, which would have closed after the last of the afternoon coffee drinkers filed out, and we would set up this huge buffet in the back with all this amazing food and we’d spread out all across the dining room, and Uncle Albert would say grace and we’d all eat Aunt Shirley’s cherry cheesecake and lather absolutely everything in my Dad’s special ham sauce.

This year we’re going to a restaurant. Just me and the ‘rents. Enough said.

As God is my witness someday, my family, I’ll have a Thanksgiving that would make the most desperate of the housewives blush with shame. I’ll even let people watch football if they must. The perfect stereotypical holiday will be mine I say!

Okay, so it’ll never happen, but I’m damn sure going to buy myself a can of cranberry sauce even if I won’t have anything to put it on this year.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

These Are The Moments That Make The Other Moments...

I've been super sick the last couple days, and though I won't bore you with all the gory details it's needless to say that when I heard my phone ring this morning I was not a happy camper. I had that brief moment in which I debated even answering it, but luckily I did. This is basically what happened.

Me: Hello?
Chance: AUNT KATIE!!!
Me: Chancey?
Chance: Aunt Katie, will you come for Christmas and make us a gingerbread house? You have to make a gingerbread house with us.
Me: Sure, of course I'll come.
Chance: Okay. Aunt Katie, but you have to wait for Christmas. You have to wait and come and make it on Christmas because then it will be snowing.
Me: Okay.
Chance: I love you, Aunt Katie. Do you want to talk to Steven?
Which I did, but he couldn't understand what I was saying so he said he loved me and then handed the phone to my sister.

Steven and Chance

Last Christmas I decided to make a gingerbread house with my nephews for Christmas and it didn't turn out the way that I had intended. I was called into work on Christmas night and was unable to organize the way that I had wanted. So when I did get home, I was on a time crunch, (the boys were only going to be at our house for the night and then they were going to spend Christmas Day with "the other grandma"), I didn't have all the stuff that I wanted, and was genuinely stressed out. I had wanted to do something special for them and it looked like everything was going to turn out the direct opposite of how I planned it. I decided to make the best of it and not give in to my black cloud that had been circling my head for the last several hours as I had numbly ran last minute Christmas presents under the scanner and reshelved all the things that the shoppers didn't realize they didn't need until they reached the front of the service line. So I sucked it up and we forged on and in the end everything worked out, even if the high saliva content made the whole thing inedible:

Chance, Steven, and Me: Ginger Ewww...

Well, apparently he was in the car flipping through a magazine and saw a gingerbread house, he then told Charlem, ma big sister/his mommy, that he had to call me and remind me that we had to make another one this Christmas. I couldn't help but feel all warm and fuzzy that my five year old, four at the time, nephew now equates me with cake frosting and ice cream cone Christmas trees and for the moment let me forget I've lost all ability to feel my nose. :)

It sort of makes you think. What to me was a very muffed up day had still, at least in one respect, gone exactly as planned.

My niece Emily with the finished product

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

It Happened One Night: Clark Gable Was The Shiz.

Now this, gentlemen, is what a real pimp looks like. :D

Gene Harlowe, Claudette Colbert, Jeanette MacDonald, Joan Crawford, Greta Garbo, and of course Carole Lombard. Weep my friends, weep.

Lazy day today. Woke up late, read some short stories and then rented It Happened One Night. Super cute movie, starring - you guessed it- Clark Gable and the adorable Claudette Colbert. It swept the Oscars in 1934. It's about a little rich girl who runs away so she can get back to her "secret" husband before her father can have the wedding annuled, but of course who should she run into along the way but Gable, a newspaper man whom she of course can't help but fall in love with. And vice versa.

Useless Fact: Clark Gable served in the Air Force during World War II, during this time Hitler set up a reward to anyone who could bring him Gable alive: "That sonofabitch'll put me in a cage and charge 10 marks a look all over Germany!" I won't go into what it's rumoured Hitlers true intentions were...*shudders*

Anyway, I love this crap so just go rent the movie. It's a good afternoon.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Remembering My Papa

Yesterday I was looking through some old photographs from when I was a kid and I came across a picture of me when I was a toddler sitting with my Papa Charlie. I thought about him off and on all day and I realized something that made me very sad. I’ve lost a lot of my memories of my Papa. He died when I was eight; he was the only grandparent I ever got to know. Everyone else died before I was born except for my maternal grandmother, but I have no memory of her. So I just wanted to take this opportunity to think about him and write down what I can about him while I still can, that way I’ll never be able to forget how amazing he was.

Me and Papa

I remember that he smelled good, even if I can’t remember what he smelled like. When I think about him I think of the colors red and brown. I’m not sure why.

I remember that he wasn’t a big man. He was short and very “furry”. He always wore collared shirts, the kind with the pocket on the chest.

I remember his nose. He had the biggest nose I had ever seen. I convinced myself that if I sat there long enough I could watch it grow, after all he had told me that it grew larger as he got older, and everyone knows that Papas never lie. I was terrified that someday my nose would be as big as his. It's not...yet. ;)

I remember him always asking me “Do you want to hear a dirty joke?” and everyone would grimace and I would of course say yes and his answer would always be “a pig…just fell in the mud!”

Whatever he cooked, it would be mixed together (for example baked beans and hamburger helper stewed together in a giant pot. yum yum - gag.) and whatever he cooked... "it"... would be "goulash". IT'S GOULASH; DON'T QUESTION IT! ;)

Instead of saying I'm going to beat your ass he said "I'm gon' beatdy ass!" Yeah, you go ahead and try to take that seriously.

I remember his lottery tickets and his circus peanuts and his caramels with the white centers. He was always good for a good sugar fix.

I know that he was German, and that his family came to the US and then he enlisted in the Army. I can't imagine having to see your countrymen, family, neighbors, your history cast in the shadow that he must have. I remember that he still had shrapnel in his shoulder from World War II. That if you pushed down on his shoulder blade you could sort of feel it, but he wouldn't talk about it.

I remember that when me and my cousins would play hide and go seek I would always hide at Papa’s and he would never, ever tell on me. I knew I was his favorite... well next to my brother, but whatever. :P

I can remember his record player that set on the table next to his bed and sitting outside his motel room watching the heat lightning. Mom always hated that. She thought we'd both be electrocuted, but she always exaggerated, and I always felt safe.

I just wish I could remember more.

Still, there's one thing I'll never forget: I love you, Papa.

Charles and Emily Vogt

Saturday, November 8, 2008

When Did Illiteracy Become The New Black?

I’ll be the first to admit that I am, and always will be, a first class, top of the line geek. Growing up I constantly went from chubby to lanky in a horrible never ending growth pattern that always left me three inches taller than any boy I ever had a crush on. (I still slouch.) I was always falling down due to my near crippling klutziness. I’ve broken approximately nine bones doing little more than just being little, old me. Take these ingredients add freckles, glasses, a college reading level by the 4th grade, and hitting puberty just a little bit too soon for comfort and you’ve got a recipe for self esteem disaster that I’m not sure I’ll ever completely recover from. That being said, I realize that my particular brand of “cool” has never been cool. What I don’t understand is why ignorance now is.

Now, I understand our education system is slowly circling the drain: schools are overcrowded and under funded, teachers are paid badly and becoming apathetic as they realize that the joy of teaching only happens when you are actually ABLE to “teach”. What I don’t understand is why this is being embraced. Why are kids being taught to idolize people who are morally and intellectually bankrupt? Why is all this trash being regurgitated and served back to us as popular culture?

I guess this rant blog is partially in response to my general outcry and also in part inspired by my own personal experience, for example some instant messages that have been cluttering my inbox. These are actual IM’s I’ve received on my Myspace page from strangers:


“u r so cuti & sexi…..what u gettin at 2nite?”

Oh! My personal favorite: “was good ma ui like u and i wana chill wit u so if u wanna do somenthing 2night o wen ever hit me back up u got a number o som”

The last one is from a guy who’s profile picture is him holding a large liquor bottle in one hand and grabbing his …er…nether regions with the other. Oh yeah, Mr. Sexy. That one always get's me hot. Sigh...

I never reply to these things, just silently die a little inside and scroll forward with my life. I'm just so sick of dudes sending me a message telling me I have pretty eyes and then in varying degrees of disgusting asking me if I want to meet up and have sex with them. Does that actually work on some girls? The part I find truly scary is that I receive these so often; which tells me logically that these guys have to be getting some positive feedback in return. Why else would they continue? Which brings me to my next point:

Dear Girls, WHY????

Why do you allow yourselves to be treated like crap? Why are your myspace backgrounds littered with men who's greatest contributions to this world are "lyrics" - *giggle* lyrics, now that's funny. - like "to the sweat drip down my balls/ all you b****es crawl" and "call me so I can make it juicy for ya"? Why do you want to be with men who act like this? What happened to romance, affection, mutual understanding and respect? Not to go all feminist or anything, but why did our grandmothers fight for equality so our generation can throw it back at them? Why do you idolize women who do nothing more than bask in their own plastic, self admiration? I mean really, do you actually give a flying frick who Paris Hilton's best friend is?

I guess that's really all I have to say. It's enough to make a girl give up.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Gee Willikers, Batman!

This is my puppy Vader right after I bought him a couple of months ago.

This is Vader now:

When I bought him I had no idea that his ears would one day grow to look like this.

Apparently neither did he...

Monday, November 3, 2008

Kaylynn Love Ludo!

What's not to love? I mean really. Is this or is this not the sexiest thing you have ever seen?

Okay...so maybe not. Carrying on:

I finally got to see Ludo live on October 27th at the House of Blues and they did not disappoint. If you've never heard them go buy everything they've ever made immediately. You'll be a better person having done so. I was so bummed when I didn't get to see them with The Spill Canvas but life goes on. This time they were opening up for Relient K (lameos. just kidding...sort of....not really...yeah). I'm just not a big Relient K fan, but it was the only way I'd be able to see Ludo any time soon because they're not headlining a tour until sometime next year and there's no guarantee they'll come to Florida. Long story short, they totally stole the show. Everybody was like "who are these guys, and why do they rock the socks right off my feet?"

Luckily I was there to fill them in and majorly whore them out. "That song's Good Will Hunting by Myself. The clapping one is Hum Along." "You should check out their Youtube page the link is...", etc. I was a very proud, little ninja.

It was seriously the best show ever, they were such hams, and they cracked everybody up. They closed out their set epically. Their last song was the theme to Ghostbusters and they had a guy come out on stage dressed like a Ghostbuster chasing a guy around who had a sheet on his head. It was hilarious. It was so anticlimactic when Relient K had to come out and play after them. :P

We stayed and met them after the show and they were so awesome. They all signed my CD and gave really fantastic hugs. They were just really sweet, funny dudes. We brought my best friend's little sister with us, it was her first concert, and she loooved it. She was so cute, she didn't have anything to sign so she had Andrew sign the back of her cell phone. She's developed a little crush I believe. She's talking about smearing clear nail polish all over it so it stays there forever. Ah, to be twelve. :D Best of all, I think we've even saved her from the evil clutches of Lil' Wayne forever.

Do Raccoons Have Suicide Hotlines?

I think it would be a wise investment on behalf of the American people. The mental health of our woodland friends has obviously been on the decline, and now they are trying to take innocent drivers down with them. Where will this madness end?

This Halloween was one for the record books.

At about 2:30 pm Megan finally succeeded in convincing-slash-guilting me into going out with her and some friends. We were supposed to go to Guavaween, but that didn't pan out so well so she convinced me to go with her and a few friends to take her little sister trick or treating. Being without costume I ended up being a zombie. I highly suggest it, all you need is the makeup since zombies are usually in normal attire. I wish I had taken pictures. I was quite proud of my green blood stained mess of a face.

Let the badness begin…on the way back to Inglis I was pulled over for speeding, 93 to be exact. It was stupid. I wasn't paying attention to the speedometer and it's so easy to do in my car and blah blah blah, excuses, excuses, totally and without a doubt my fault. Now I have a mandatory court appearance at some point in the near future. You think I would take the hint that it just was not going to be my day, but nooooo.

So we went trick or treating, age be damned. I tried to forget for the moment that my mom and dad were going to kill me and that I was living on borrowed time. We dropped off Casey, Megan's little sister, went to Nikki's and then went to Chaz where we went to a bonfire-thingie, which was a lot of fun. Just a lot of chill talking (for the most part) and watching boys do stupid things like throw lighters in the fire and then try to jump over it, etc. On a side note Nikki and her boyfriend are nauseatingly adorable. :)

We left the bonfire at around 3:30 am. Megan and I were supposed to spend the night at Nikki's with another girl, but we opted to just take the drive, deciding that we would rather make the drive that night instead of in the morning when we'd be all groggy and cranky.

So there I was: driving down the Suncoast Parkway towards Tampa, Meg passed out in the back seat, just me and The Spill Canvas to keep me company. In an ironic twist of fate, and quite possibly another one of God's let's all take a good laugh at Kaylynn moments, I was listening to Sunsets and Car Crashes. Oh yeah. Maybe I'll be able to lawlz at that later. I noticed three massive raccoons standing on the side of the road. I didn't think much of their little gathering, that was until one of them looked right at me and then launched it's self full speed at my tire. I, in my infinite wisdom, swerved to try and avoid the deranged little monster in vain. Instead of going under my tire he tore up my under carriage, not that I knew this yet, that would come later when I tried to drive again and realized that I was now dragging "stuff", namely the plastic thing on the bottom that protects other "stuff". At this point I was just horrified that I had hit the thing. So choking back tears, we got out of the car and tried to look for it, swinging are cell phone's around in hopes of seeing something, I don't know what our plan was, probably try and find an animal rescue near by that could come and save it if it survived the impact.. Here's the really weird part. No raccoon. We searched for it and it was gone. We looked a good ways from the car too, thinking it may have been thrown, but their was embankments on both sides and we saw nothing. So basically it attacked my car and then….left? Super raccoon. It reminds me of Scarface, where at the end he's so coked up that he just keeps going and going and going when you know he should by all rights already be dead.

So this Halloween I got a bag of candy, a court date with the potential of having my license taken away, a broken radiator, the opportunity of watching the sun come up over the freeway while I waited for a tow truck to arrive, and nightmares about coked up raccoons wandering the streets with machine guns and fake Cuban accents.

I just can't wait for Christmas.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

You No Touch-y Unless I Like-y


Math class today. I like my teacher. He’s very awkward. He has this way of saying what he thinks we’re thinking, which at least in my case is in no way what I’m thinking, and saying it out loud. "But wait…I don’t like graphing. TOO BAD!" Only his voice gets really high pitched and nasally, like to him we all sound like Fran Drescher. He sort of grumbles during everything, too, like a low pitched growl and sometimes when he writes things on the board his tongue kind of gets stuck, hanging out of his mouth for uncomfortably long stretches of time. He keeps me entertained.

Less entertaining. We had critique in Drawing today. It wasn’t as bad as I had expected, from what everyone says about Jones I was kind of waiting for him to take my picture off the wall and rip it into little pieces and set it on fire. In reality it wasn’t that bad.

Self Realization of the Day:

You No Touch-y Unless Me Like-y

About halfway through class I was standing by the critiquing area listening to Mr. Jones when this guy came up behind me and apparently wanted to get by me so he put his hand on the small of my back and sort of pushed down so I would move forward and out of his way. It made me sort of mad and I didn‘t understand why. In part I knew it was because I don’t like being touched without some invitation for it. God knows I don’t think about it when I’m playing around with friends, when I'm cuddled up on the couch with Emmy or the boys, or when I’m at a concert and there’s twenty people basically grinding against me. So why did this bother me so much? I’m by no means a personal space Nazi, sometimes I even prefer a little personal contact when I’m talking to someone I know intimately, I think it shows full attention, affection even. Maybe that’s why it got to me. So I started to think about it and realized something. I think of touch in the form of gesture. To me placing your hand on the small of someone’s back is an intimate act, not necessarily in a sexual way (but I must say, that’s usually where my mind compartmentalizes it), just that it permit’s a certain closeness, almost possessively so. Not a way to move an unwanted person from blocking your way, an excuse me works for that. Maybe that’s why I’ve never really liked being touched by strangers or maybe I will just add overly sensitive to my ever growing list of neurotic "quirks" and need to stop thinking of touching in such an intimate fashion. Either way…blah.

I better go do some laundry seeing as I’ve now moved from my last clean shirt to Megan’s last clean shirt.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

About Me

I am the space cadet.

Kaylynn [KAY-LEN] (n)

1. prone to obsessions (the kind marked by a flurry of unbridled, but benign intensity before burning out, not the scary, gun wielding kind).

2. tried desperately to get to the center of a tootsie pop once, carried the same lollipop around for a week or so with a sheet of notebook paper full of tallies, but I lost the paper...and temporarily all feeling in my tounge.

3. was sent to the school psychiatrist in second grade because on Valentines Day the class was asked to make cards and Ms. Sanfords didn't find my drawing of an actual heart appropriate. He told me it was surprisingly accurate and gave me a lollipop. It was root beer flavored. Can you say score?

4. Did you know that the first kangaroos were carnivores and lived in trees, launching themselves down on their unsuspecting prey? 'Tis true and a good way to see if you're still paying attention.

5. had every intention of marrying Elvis until realizing that he was dead. I promptly moved on to LaVar Burton. Reading Rainbow, not Star Trek.

6. But then of course met my true love courtesy of vault Disney. Guy Williams:

7. Only real nasty spanking I remember my mother ever giving me, I had drawn Zs all over my bedroom walls. Whip-whip-whip.

8. I have a Lisa Frank diary that I kept when I was six that in the beginning asks what I want to be when I grow up. I wrote: "starving artist". I'm not sure the concept was fully grasped, but it gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling all the same.

: Kaylynn is classified mostly harmless.

Nice to meet cha'.

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