Melanoma

I think every once in a while we hit lows in our lifetime where we are forced to take a step back and evaluate who we are and who we are becoming. The other day I decided to go to a tanning salon. I won't even beat around the bush and give you some lame excuse like "i need a base tan or I burn", I just simply wanted to rid myself of the gift that winter had given me...pale skin. Upon entering the salon I felt like I was at a travel agency because you have to buy things in "packages". This package comes with a month free, that package comes with lotion. I knew that I wasn't going to be in this for the long term, so I chose the smallest package. My only requirement was to buy a bottle of lotion. All right, whatever. That's when the girl turned around holding a bottle in each hand and said, "We have chocolate diamonds or Chocolate sun"
That's when I had an outer body experience...what had my life come to where I was making decisions between two "chocolate" lotions.
Were there real chunks of chocolate in them?
Why does the woman in front of me resemble a carrot?
Why are there playboy stickers in a cute basket?
Why do all the tanning beds resemble space ships?
Why am I here?
I needed to go. I needed to leave and rid myself of the year round bronze promise. Instead of taking the high road and apologizing for wasting her time, I opted for chocolate diamonds and proceeded to "bed 10", where I inevitably after an impressive 4 minutes, got sunburned.

I was thinking about this the other day, and to be honest, I don't know if this was an original thought. At the time I thought it was, however it may have been just stuck in my subconcious from a movie a long time ago.

The other day I was contemplating the idea if, god forbid, I were to lose a limb. Let's say and arm or a leg in some awful accident. I am completely traumatized by the accident and upon arrival at the doctors office I am notified that my arm cannot be put back on and I will have to get a prosthetic. So here comes my thought; what if they only had black prosthetics left? Or what if a black man went in, and god forbid, had lost his leg and they only had a white prosthetic left? I came to the conclusion that it would suck.

There's strong..and then there's army strong

From what I can gather from the commercials....apparently being in the army means
Being deployed to the grand canyon where you will be handed a flag
Your mission is to rock climb at sunset to the top of this cliff
Once you make it to the top, I want you to salute and everyone will notice how cool your shadow looks in the sunset
Too scared to rock climb? No worries, I will put you in a tent with the coolest computers you have ever seen.
Don't like computers? Not a problem. Why don't you just stand there and we will have a beating drum in the background.
Welcome to the army.

Mother of the Year

If you have yet to encounter true "trashiness", then please by all means turn to VH1 ad watch Flavor of Love. When I haven't had my fill of ass or cellulite for the day, I hit up the ladies of Flavor of Love to fulfill my cravings. I'm not a religious viewer, but I recently caught an episode where Bunz confessed that she was a mother. Not a surprise, considering most of the women on the show are mothers to multiple children, but Bunz said this, "I gotta go home. I can't have Flav playin' with me like this. My kids don't have a babysitter and I've gotta get home to them"
What?
You've been on the show for a while now and your kids don't have a babysitter?
Imagine being six years old and having your mom be a Flavor of Love girl. All the sudden you're left to fend for yourself because Mom's gotta go "shake it" for a man whose eligible for the AARP. Needless to say it would be a rough childhood. Kids, this could happen to you. You could be left behind, so I've come up with some simple indications that you should look for when determining if your mom will abandon you for Flav.
1. She refers to her hair as a "weave"
2. She sounds like she has peanut butter in her mouth when she talks
3. When she wants something she strips for it
4. Her ass is the size of a MACK truck

Depend-able

The other day I was sitting in my apartment craving something sweet. Instead of taking advantage of the flour, sugar and eggs that I had, I opted to hit up Walgreens to purchase cookie dough as a result of pure laziness. I have discovered that while waiting in line to check out, I judge people based on their purchases. I was eyeing the purchases of the gentlemen in front of me; aquafresh toothpaste, dawn dishsoap and oh my god, Depends adult diapers? I immediately sized him up and estimated his age to be roughly 60. I suddenly felt awkward that I was behind this man who was clearly having some difficulty with his plumbing when I thought, "Oh my god. There are probably thousands of people, just like this man, walking around in Dpends diapers!" I was shocked. Have you ever been down the Depends aisle? As if your self esteem wasn't already lowered by your need for adult diapers, Walgreens has conveniently placed every other shitty item imaginable in that same aisle. So as you shamefully walk towards the Depends boxes, you find yourself passing the shitty Walgreens socks and 80's make-up caboodles. I suddenly felt his pain. How terribly embarresing to have to purchase this item. He turned around and looked at me as if to say, "This green Depends box is your destiny." Our ages were suddenly revealed as he purchased Depends and I stood there with a box of cookie dough. Another shopper probably assumed that I was his grandaughter and that grandpa was going to need those Depends after he ate the cookie dough.

Idiot

Someone took this interview WAY too seriously.....

Post Secret

I recently switched academic institutions. I traded in posh St. Thomas for the down and dirty University of Illinois at Chicago. The main difference between the two? Bathroom fun.

The University of Illinois at Chicago has stalls adorned with graffiti. What did St. Thomas have? Stocked toilet paper and clean floors. Boring. I was so excited when I entered my first bathroom on campus. I usually try to hit up a different stall each time so I can really soak in the Universities culture. Some of my favorite quotes include....

"I am falling for her. I love her, but she doesn't know"--Mmm. A little too 21st century Jane Austen for me.

"The rain falling is God crying"--Nope. Sorry, that's a lie.

"Jen Womack is a whore"--Who's Jen Womack? Which one of you is Jen? I'll facebook her.....

"When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us"--How prophetic. Also a little ironic to have on a stall door.

There is also the occasional anti-war message and global warming rampage.

Here's my question--who is sitting on the toilet in between bowel movements thinking, "I am so outraged at George Bush, I'm gonna sharpie on this stall. That will get my message across." On the other hand, what are the chances that someone sits down and thinks, "I know that Jen Womack chick and you're right, she is a total bitch." It makes things interesting at school. I go to the bathroom to wash my hands and come back 2 minutes later with a whole new perspective on life.

Mama Told Me Not To Come

The van has two responses, "Soccer Mom with kids", or the van gets this response "Shady. Probably Rape..if not rape, there is most likely rope in the back of that thing." I love how one vehicle is praised as the epitome of motherhood, and is simultaneously seen as a kidnappers haven. I feel like there is one golden rule you should go by when identifying a safe van from a not so safe van.
Windows.
Every parent should tell their kids this. If a van has windows, please, by all means, enter into it. If a van does not have windows, don't get close to it because that means it's filled with something bad in the back whether that be drugs, immigrants or tons of paint cans. So what happens if you come across a van that has windows in it, but lets say you spot one of the three dangers in the back....drugs, immigrants or paint cans. Then you just wave to that van and go along your merry way

Too Hot to Stop

Do you ever have those "hott" days? It's those days where you wake up feeling like a 5'8'' Brazilian supermodel that just finished a 5k? You know those days? Those days are brilliant for a grand total of 3 hours. After about the 3 hour mark, some divine creation is notified that you think you're a fucking superstar.
"Katie O'Brien thinks she's hot shit...well I'll correct that"
You're going along your merry way winking at every passerby, bumpin' to the tunes of your ipod when,
"I'm hott. I worked out last night..I just got a check back from the government...booya.....OH FUCK!"
Then it happens. You wipe out. It can take a sheet of ice that was invisible 2 seconds ago, or you can chalk it up to clumsiness, but you blow it. Within seconds you return to being frumpy and the woman in front of you no longer has "super cool jeans, maybe I'll compliment her because I feel that great today", but rather she is annoying and you are debating whether or not you should purposely shove her and claim that it was an accident.
We love to throw excuses around..anything so we don't look like an idiot. "God damnit, I just bought these shoes and the soles are still shiny and rubbery and not broken in yet, so that's why I fell. It was not my fault." Or, my personal favorite having grown up with a family of attorneys, "Son of a bitch! Uneven sidewalk...Lane Bryant you're gonna pay for this trip!"
Either way, that 3 hours of hotness escapes you and never returns for the rest of the day. You reassume that role as pathetic. You had it, and then it was gone.

The New and Improved Reformation

Some of the foulest, most inspiring and white trash icons I admire have fallen prey to an epidemic that is getting out of control. Someone needs to stop Christianity before it swoops down and reforms the last few idols I have. Someone needs to stop this new reformation and look at the problem at hand--some of our best, brightest and most worthless stars are giving in to the big guy.

Take Salt for example from the once popular group, "Salt 'n' Pepa"--Salt has traded in inspiring lyrics such as, "you're packed and you're stacked 'specially in the back", for a cross and bible. Salt, Shoop is a song that trail blazed the way for femenism in the 90's letting woman know that they too can describe men as "lollipops to be licked."

Kirk Cameron--Fuck you Kirk. I loved Kirk Cameron as the hormonal, prankster Michael Seaver on "Growing Pains". Now Kirks one with the Lord, and I don't like it. Kirk went from making $50,000 a week on the set of "Growing Pains" to shooting low-budget, straight to video Christian films. Can we say dumb? Kirk, pretty sure eternal salvation is not worth being a part of the Left Behind series.

Gary Busey-My idol. Gary is a self-proclaimed "born again Christian". Gary is the shit when it comes to Christianity because Gary makes Christianity look like Jesus is pouring vodka down the throats of the saved. Gary is the perfect example of a human being who has given into the idea of Christ, but hasn't let that affect his love of cocaine. Cheers Gary.

Hey Omaha

Sometimes I like to keep updated on what's happening in my hometown of Omaha. I went on over to Omaha.com today to get a taste of the daily news when I came across this, and this is directly quoted,

"Omaha buzzes about the ballpark. Accusations ping louder than a ball hit with an aluminum bat."

What kind of shit 4th grade journalism is that? Did someone on staff just finish a boxcar children book? Was Highlights magazine the spring board for this ingenious sentence? I'm just trying to imagine the brainstorming for this sentence....

"accusations swirl like a twist cone about to melt"
"accusations fizzle as if the carbonation has escaped the coke bottle"
"accusations shrivel like an overcooked hot dog waiting to be bought by a fan"

Come on Omaha....I know we're not the New York Times, or the Chicago Tribune....but in all honestly, let's put aside our metaphors. Let's pack up our silliness and get to the news.

Wow. I am sorry. I have competely neglected this. I am back, and will now post reglary. I've been a tad busy lately and well, I'm sorry.

Shit went down this morning. My bus, the 74 fullerton bus, is a bus full of regulars. When I get on at 7:30 am, I know exactly who will be in the back of the bus, and I know exactly who will be driving it. We've all accepted each others tiny quirks. We all know the chick with the corn rows will be talking way to loud on her cell phone about her son. Everyone knows that the elderly gentlemen with the cowboy boots will get on and roam all the way to the back of the bus, only to return to the front of the bus 2 minutes later. We know who belongs, and who doesn't. We are a band of brothers, united in the fact that we do not have cars. There is an unspoken agreement that we all secretly love eachother, but you never talk to the person next to you. We are the morning crowd.
Today, someone interfered with our unit. The bus stopped for a good two minutes. Coats began rustling and sighs became louder and louder as people tried to figure out why we weren't moving. All the sudden, someone revealed that a woman had parked her car in a "No Parking" spot, and the bus could not get past. A robust women in the back set the tone for how this rebellion was going to play out,
"Ah, hell no, this broad ain't gonna make me late!"
Everyone nodded in agreement. No way was this Saab driving bitch going to prevent a good 30 people from arriving to their destinations on time. As if out of a movie, a man in the middle of the bus says, "That's her! She's just standing there!" At this point the bus driver is on the phone freaking out and everyone in the bus is beginning to panick. One guy starts banging on the window hoping to catch this No Parking Bitch's attention. He fails.
We beging rounding 2 minutes and 30 seconds and the everyone on the bus is losing their shit.
People are getting out their cell phones, yelling to the bus driver to just drive over her ass. The bus driver is asking people to calm down. How can we calm down? At no point does someone make the mature decision to just get off and start walking.
Bus Drier: Move your damn car!
Woman: NO!
Our unity grew stronger as we all collectively decided that we hated this woman. Eventually things resolved themselves and the bus began moving again.

I shoulda been an Olympian

I had a request.
A dear pal of mine requested that I blog about my swim team days....

I was a natural born swimmer. As a baby, my babysitter was the bathtub. I had mastered underwater breathing before the age of 8 months and the breast stroke had been perfected by the age of 2. A baby pool was not in my vocabulary...I needed depth; I needed at least 12 feet of water before I could have fun. My mom enrolled me in swim team at the age of 8. As a youngster, I was in the bathtub one day when I perfected a perfect streamline stroke. My mom burst into tears and screamed, "Michael! Our baby is going to be an Olympian!"....Okay so maybe thats an exaggeration. It was more like my parents were annoyed with me and swim team was a great way to get me out of the house for an hour. I took the sport seriously. When we went to Swimwear Unlimited to pick up my regulation suit I peppered the saleswomen with questions,
Are these goggles resistant to fogging up? Do they have proper suction?
Does this swim cap allow for optimum speed?
It was no joke to me. I knew I had talent and I laughed at the other jack ass kids at swim team.
"Hellllooooooo, pretty sure free style consists of getting your arm completely out of the water Mitch.....idiot."
"Hey Danny, when was the last time you saw an Olympian doing the doggy style?"
"Nice swimsuit Patrick, I had no idea Tommy Bahama made regulation racing suits"

I was that kind of kid. So at our first meet, I was told that I was in the "exhibition" round. Exhibition? What the hell was that? I was informed that it was where you raced alone.......you know, to gain more points for your team.
Ooo, I get it. I'm so good that they don't want to subject the other kids to my talent. I gotcha. So I would pack my swim bag with Jello packets and pixie sticks. Right before it was my time to shine, I would rub my limbs furiously, "warming them up" and literally chug straight sugar from these Jello packets. I was a fucking lunatic. A force to reckoned with. I had my mom write things like "Eat my bubbles" and "Hurricane" on my back in permanent marker. I walked around the pool, heading to the starting blocks growling at little kids as I pumped myself up. Up on the blocks I got into tunnel vision mode. Winning was all I cared about. Then it dawned on me. Wait, why was no one else swimming against me again?
How was this going to gain points for the team?
Wait a minute..........Oh my god.
Oh my god!
I'm racing against myself!
My mom stood at the end of the pool with two thumbs up screaming "Go kitten!"
How embarrassing. I'm swimming against myself and my mom is referring to me as a cat.
On the blocks I use to get so excited that I constantly false started. I would wait for the gun shot, but the sugar rushing through my body was screaming "Go you maniac! Go!"
Splash
Damn. I also received like fuscia colored ribbons, which basically meant that I sucked so bad, that they ran out of proper colors. It always went something like this,
"And in our Exhibition round, Katie receives the teal ribbon"

Know Your Gangs

Moving past the periodic table and Shakespeare's sonnets, I feel like we have barely scratched the surface of knowledge.

Todays Lesson: Know Your Gangs

Kids, you may live in a city where not everyone is super "friendly". It's safe to assume that anyone who does not wave, or smile at you is in a gang. That's the easy part of today's lesson. Now, the challenge is to decipher what gang they might be a part of.

The bloods: One of my personal favorites. Members of the bloods typically wear red and contort their hands in a way that spells "blood". The color red is a source of power...nice job on selecting a color bloods. The hand symbol shows creativity and most likely a familiarity with sign language, therefore we can assume that there are good number of deaf bloods.

The Crips: Contrary to their rivals, the bloods, the Crips prefer the color blue. What does this say about the Crips? The color blue symbolizes trust and stability. Kids, if your parents kick you out of the house, kick it with the Crips. They will supplement your old lifestyle with a new, trusting and stable home. The Crips have also been known to rearrange words that contain the letter B, and replace them with the letter C, due to their rivalry with the bloods. This is a clear indication of intelligence and a familiarity with alphabet soup.

The Vice Lords: Clearly the most sophisticated of all gangs, the Vice Lords are a Chicago gang that are identified by a top hat, a cane and a martini glass. It's safe to say that if you see anyone, with any of these items, go ahead and assume that they are a part of the Vice Lords and start to run.

Well ,that concludes today's lesson. Take this knowledge, plant it and let it grow.

I heart Huckabee

I'm not a huge political fanatic. I don't Tivo debates, nor do I advocate flimsy yard signs. I understand the importance of the upcoming election, I really do. The one guy who has completely stumped me is this Huckabee character. He's this wide-eyed goofy looking guy with these chicklet teeth who is apparently convinced that he's got God in his pocket. I read today that this Huckabee character said,

"to amend the Constitution so it's in God's standards rather than try to change God's standards so it lines up with some contemporary view"

Finally, someone has recognized that the separation of church and state needs to be rid of. We are a melting pot my friends...a giant pot of fondue. We are a nation composed of bananas, oranges, strawberries and sponge cake that are to be dipped into the chocolate of christianity. We need to come together as a nation and wrap ourselves in the blanket known as God's love.
Fuck the bill of rights....the ten commandments were issued and chizzled by the hands of God, therefore we should adhere to His rules. For all we know George Washington is as false as that whole "landing on the moon" bull.
Immigration laws should be changed and re-worked. Line the border with kiddie pools filled with water. A quick little dunk and bam...you're baptized...welcome to the land of purple mountain majesties.
This nation needs a makeover....a Jesus makeover.

----This message has been approved by Huckabee

Man On Bus Hints at Normalcy

I take the bus. Go ahead and judge me. Public Transportation is all the rave here in the windy city for the simple fact that there's more poor people here, gas is exspensive and traffic sucks. The first time you take the bus you feel like a champion. You're slapping everyone on the knees, throwing casual winks ooing and ahhing at the fact that you don't have to buckle up. That honeymoon faded real quickly when I was stuck rubbing up against people who were missing teeth and my nose was having trouble identifying certain smells. Then there is this bull shit rule "If a senior citizen or handicapped person gets on, you must give up your seat." How about...No. First of all, handicapped people are already sitting down, and if a senior citizen cannot fend for themselves, then they should be put in a home. It's a tough squeeze on the bus during rush hour, but today a man hinted at normalcy. He had a briefcase, had gotten his hair cut in the last 6 months and was reading a newspaper. Bingo. I wanted to stand up and make an example of this man to the rest of the passengers. "See this man....you should all strive to be this bus passenger. That means not bringing your entire home on the bus with you and waiting to poop your pants until you get off the bus."

Mmmm Sorry?

Sometimes I am faced with moments where I feel like a giant ass hole. It's those Larry David moments where you just cannot believe you have stooped this low as a human being. That happened to me once in a Target. I will never forget it.

I roamed carelessly through the women's section, grabbing random crap that I consciously knew I would never wear. Ponchos, jean shorts, raincoats; I was on a shopping rampage determined to get everything I needed in one short trip. I walked into the dressing room and a row of dressing stalls lay before me completely empty. Excellent, I had the whole place to myself. Naturally, like any normal human being, I snagged the handicapped dressing room.
Bigger mirror and more room.
I feel cramped and claustrophobic in the smaller ones.
I had 8 items.
Like always, I was dissatisfied with everything.
I took my time climbing in and out of jeans, swapping t-shirts, spinning around to catch a glimpse of my back side in the raincoat.
Nope.
Don't need any of it.
So I take my time re-hanging all of the garments. I grab them in a heap and open the door.
Oh no.
Oh god. There was a handicapped girl waiting to get into the dressing room.
"Whoops, sorry"
But was sorry going to cut it? Absolutely not. While I could have easily changed in one of the other 25 stalls, I selfishly chose the handicapped one. This girl had been deprived of her right to try on clothes. I might as well have poked a blind person in the eye.