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Category Archives: me me me

This post seemed to need a super sexy title, so I decided to go with “Dispatches from Fatty Pregnancyland.”

trans fat cake frosting yum

This past weekend, I attended the bridal shower of one of my college roommates. I was seated at table mostly filled with people I knew. At some point, the subject of possible names for our upcoming bundle of terrifying joy was broached. “Oh!” said the one woman at the table whom I didn’t know. “You’re…

I’m thinking there’s got to be some kind of taxi service for this sort of thing.

alarm clock insomnia

Morning person (n.) 1. individual who unfathomably enjoys rising early in the day 2. individual known for frustratingly sunny behavior and generally cheerful comportment at ungodly hours 3. NOT KATE How do you people do this, you people with outside-the-home jobs and children other than mine? I mean, it wasn’t like I was sleeping all…

This is the point in life when purple highlights might be in order. That or deep, deep depression.

gray hair first

I’m writing this at the same exact time I should be preparing the final deliverables for our business trip on Wednesday. (You see what I did there, yes? I used the word “deliverables” and I implied that our business has grown important enough for an actual trip. Give me another six months and I will…

If they leave a chocolate on the pillow, I’m moving in.

I’m not sure any of you have seen one of these before, but let’s try it on for size, shall we? Yes! Indeed! It is what you suspect: that rare, elusive thing called a “hotel room all to oneself.” It has the usual suspects: a bed, a chair, a desk, a bathroom. But do you…

Give me enough Jerry Springer and I think I might make it to Australia.

Ahoy, friends! I write to you with ever so slightly tanned fingers, freshly returned as I am from Key West. A good time was had by all, what with the parasailing and copious inhaling of Cuban food and my not infrequent hissed whispers to Adam that went something along the lines of “Wait! I was…

Laugh all you want, but I can recite every single sale poster backwards. In pig latin.

I’m loath to admit this, so I’ll just say it really fast: Istartedwalkingthemall. THERE. Satisfied? I’M A DAMN MALL WALKER. It’s too icy and sidewalk-buried-y to take my usual outside routes, and let us not even speak of that torture device known as The Elliptical in the Basement. So I’ve moved to the mall, earlyish…

“The peace of blogging is equalled only by the comfort of chocolate-covered pretzels.” ―Someone smart

I hesitate even bringing up with I am about to bring up. I predict that a few readers will rally to my side. But I also predict that a large number of readers will take issue with the subject. Some debates just seem to naturally raise the ire of the blogosphere–just look at the fierce…

And it’s not even like you can braid those suckers. Or use a curling iron.

Now that I’m entrenched in my thirties, it occurs to me–with ever-increasing frequency–that they totally screwed us over in sex ed class.  To be fair, I went to Catholic school, so it wasn’t an actual class, more like a blink-and-you’d-miss-it week of lessons about menstruation and hormones. Boys snorted at penis, girls blushed crimson at…

That being said, the sweatpants come in three different colors.

One day many moons ago, when I was probably around 11 or 12, my truly beloved grandmother decided to impart some wisdom. “When you are married, you should always make sure you look nice when your husband comes home,” she told me, tidying up the kitchen, which was always spotless and the scene of innumerable…

In this case, I shall totally blame the impulse purchase of cheese.

So, this happened: Aura woke up, got dressed in her first-day-back frock, dribbled syrup on it, lived through threats of beheading, then bounced into her new classroom and waved goodbye. Considering this is her second year of preschool, one might think that I would have wrapped my brain around the concept of having a kid…