Legendary Music Video

Okay, so I created this song using my mad Garageband skillz… also, by using a Media Converter to grab the karaoke version of the song off YouTube, but whatever. Still cool!

A legendary music video is in the works. I’m hoping to enter it in a contest and win some sweet prizes. Because I’m a huge geek?

Enjoy!

Or not. Whatev.

(BTW: Any thoughts on how to MAKE said Legendary Music Video would be much appreciated! I’m envisioning RockBand instruments… oh, AND a strobe light. Because, AWESOME?)

Videos Before Ho’s

“Hey, Momma, since you’ve never seen it, we should go see ‘Horton Hears a Ho’ tonight!”

*snorts of laughter*

“What did I say?”

………………………………………………..

And speaking of ho’s, Chassy Pimp makes an appearance on the latest episode of TechnoGeekery. And she RAPS, yo? Right?! I’m sayin’. Sweet.

TechnoGeekery Show #16 (actual #26): Blog Books and Blurb Raps

Please note that the latest episode of TechnoGeekery is also available in the DWM sidebar. Right over there –>. And by clicking on the “Toggle Full Screen” icon in the lower right-hand corner of the sidebar’s Podango player, you can watch the video–wait for it… wait for it– full screen! Just so’s ya know.

Street Cred

Crap.

I may have just been spotted–at work!–air guitaring along with the (wicked awesome) song playing on my iPod.

Hey! I can’t help it! The music is in my SOUL, so kindly step OFF me, yo?

Well. This can’t be good for my street cred with the urban cubicleland demographic.

Royally Screwed

As I sat at a traffic signal a few moments ago, stopped at a green light, my feelings quickly descended from the heady heights of annoyance– I mean, STOPPED! at a GREEN LIGHT!– into the realm of somber thoughtfulness, which was most likely a natural progression of thought due to the mile-long funeral procession crossing in front of me through the light.

And as I watched the cavalcade of mourners roll slowly by, preceded by motorcycle police officers with their sirens and lights providing guaranteed right-of-way to the hearse containing the casketed remains which followed closely behind, something pretty earth-shattering occurred to me.

See, I suddenly realized the only time I will ever be treated even remotely like royalty– with cavalcades equipped with sirens and lights and special flashers, and adoring family and friends following me around– I will be totally DEAD. And thus, completely unable to enjoy the experience. And heaven knows that my family and friends won’t have a good time, what with being all wrecked with sadness and whatnot over the tragedy of their loss. You know, of me. Right? Right?! Dude, I’m saying.

In what universe is that fair?

Benjamin Franklin once said, “Certainty? In this world nothing is certain but death and taxes.” And today I suddenly realized that in both? Well, I get totally gypped.

Washington Improv Theater, Free To Me, and Other Confessions

I remember the moment– the exact moment– I realized what it was I wanted to do with my life.

Ah, yes… how could I forget? It was summer and I was at recess with my friend Natalie. We were on the monkey bars… but, wait… it must have been spring, rather than summer, if we were at recess, right? But whatever! The moment is tattooed on my brain! Natalie and I were on the slide… except it must have been Dominique because Natalie didn’t like the slide… and… oh, hell, I may as well burst into a soulful rendition of “I Remember It Well” from Gigi, the 1958 Academy Award winning musical film starring Leslie Caron, Louis Jourdan, and Maurice Chevalier, and be done with it! GOSH. I didn’t say I could focus clearly on the minutiae of the moment! I just said I remember the moment! The having of it! So step OFF me.

*ahem*

So, Dominique asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up.

Well, this was a deep question in the sixth grade, I tell you what. We’d gone way beyond, “Do you like me? Check yes, no, or maybe.” And as an aside, why “maybe”? Had no one taught us that “maybe” was the new “no, but I don’t want you to cry or hit me at recess”? Honestly.

I remember thinking very seriously about Dominique’s question. Probably for more than a minute, even. No one had ever asked me that question before, you see. And then, I just knew.

“I want to make people laugh,” I said with conviction. “You know, like Erma Bombeck!” (Shut up. I was eleven.)

Oh, the folly of youth! There I was, thinking there was a career to be had in making people laugh! Ha! There Dominique was, asking “Who the heck is Erma Bombeck?” Double ha!

Dominique and I drifted apart in junior high.

So, there it is. I’ve always wanted to be a comedian. Or a lawyer. And for a short while, there was that dream of becoming a professional Orca trainer at Sea World. (Hey! They get to swim with Shamu. And ride the dolphins!) Sadly, not one of these careers has ever panned out.

That being said, guess what?! Give up? Okay! I have been invited to attend some (free!) improv classes at Washington Improv Theater, that’s what! But, hello? Scary. I mean, I’m not sure what to expect. For instance, will I be required to take part in any type of miming activities? Because I don’t mind saying that mimes? Give me the wiggins. With their imaginary glass boxes and drinking from cups that aren’t there and whatnot! Good LORD! It’s just not RIGHT!

On the other hand, I’m pretty sure I already mentioned the free-to-me part. No cost whatsoever. Totally free.

I’m torn. Should I set aside my Metamfiezomaiophobia and sign up? Well? Should I?!

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m going in, y’all, the possibility of being trapped in a glass box be damned! I’ll see you on the other side.

(Any one in the DC Metro area who has a wild a hair and wants to join me, give me a holler! Or an email! Whichever!)

Girls’ Night Out

What I learned last night during Girls’ Night Out:

1. Boboli pizza crust RULES.

2. Lots of bowlers have never seen a person do the Strike Dance or the I Picked Up a Spare Jive, which… weird?

3. It IS possible to bowl a 33.

4. Wii Bowling is WAY different from bowling at an actual bowling alley.

5. Lobbing the bowling ball down the alley is frowned upon. Even if it is accidental, which is so unfair.

6. I really, REALLY suck at bowling. Like a LOT.

7. If you really, REALLY suck at bowling, random people will stop by to tell you so, and to offer helpful pointers on how to handle your bowling ball.

8. It is considered bad bowling etiquette to suggest appropriate places for said random people to shove their own bowling balls.

9. Beading Necklaces Night will probably beat out Bowling Night next Girls’ Night Out.

I’m Taking a Stand

Pockets are handy. You know? You can put stuff in them. You can keep your hands warm in them. Sometimes you find money in them. See? Handy! I am going to take a stand and say that pockets are good.

So yesterday, when I found myself pocketless– don’t ask how this happened, I have no idea what craziness compelled me to buy pocketless pants– I was at a loss. Where was I supposed to put stuff? And what if my hands got cold?! Huh? What then? And I’m not going to lie, a little windfall of forgotten change for a Diet Dr. Pepper would not have been unwelcome, thank you VERY much William Willet. (Damn you, Daylight Savings Time! DAMN YOU.)

So when I realized it was imperative to my workday productivity– and quite honestly, my usefulness as a human being in general– that I get caffeine in my system, like, STAT, I was like, “Oh, NO!” Right out loud, just like that. Because of the pockets? That weren’t there? Hello? Where was I supposed to put my MONEY? Honestly. I can’t just walk around clutching a dollar. Do you know how often I misplace my belongings? Do you?! Do you know how often I absently set things down and walk away? DO YOU?! Well, it is OFTEN, I tell you what. Which is very inconvenient, I must say, especially when that thing I set down is my wallet (in a grocery cart) or my child (also in a grocery cart). Oh, that last part was a joke. Clearly! I would never misplace my children! As far as you know!

And then, as so often happens when one’s back is pressed to the wall, I had a moment of epiphany. Heart hammering, I checked to see if the coast was clear– ohmygosh!– it was– ohmygoodness!– so without further hesitation I folded up that dollar bill and tucked it right into my bra. DUDE! I know, right?! I employed the classic bra stash! And let me tell you, that is not something I had ever considered. Not even remotely. I mean, as far as I’m concerned, the bra? Not exactly sartorially relevant in my life. Hey, I’m just saying that it doesn’t have to work very hard for me, and seems more of a nuisance than a help, what with the slipping straps and the stress of coordinating colors and whatnot. And let’s just say that the women who regularly bra stash as portrayed in TV and film are not exactly my peers in the *ahem* boobilicious department. Yet, here I was, actually getting some mileage from my heretofore irrelevant undergarments! SWEET.

Well, let me tell you, once I realized that my money was safely stowed away, safe from being misplaced, I felt pretty good. Sassy, even. I had MONEY in my BRA. How cool is that?! As I strolled with a bit of a jaunty air– hey, don’t judge– to the employee lounge, I imagined all sorts of other items that could be stowed away… business cards, sticks of gum, credit cards, notes with passwords or phone numbers… oh, the possibilities!

As I approached the vending machine, I decided that loose change was out of the question, clearly, but was a price I was willing to pay for peace of mind when I am caught pocketless and unawares. Coming out of my pleasant reverie, I nodded hello to the person standing at the next vending machine. Then I noticed the fifteen or so other people in the lounge, milling about. I could feel their eyes on me. Watching. Waiting. It’s like they KNEW or something! And they were judging me for my wanton ways! I mean, there was MONEY in my BRA! And, what? Was I just going to reach in and brazenly pull my dollar out of my bra, just like that?! Good LORD! I hadn’t thought this through!

STOP STARING AT ME! I thought, my heart beating wildly…

As a line began to form behind me, I realized I would have to suck it up or remain in my present state of decaffeinated non-productivity.

Caffeine won.

I slowly turned back to the machine, took a deep breath, and with my flushed face proudly held aloft I reached into my shirt, fished out my folded dollar bill, and snapped it open with a flourish. Ha! I thought. Take THAT, judgmental bystanders! And when that can of Diet Dr. Pepper finally dropped– thunk thunk! – I calmly retrieved it… and I got the hell out of there, vowing to donate my pocketless pants to the needy and leave bra stashing to the experts, by golly.

So… yeah. Pockets are handy. I’m taking a stand.

Random Thoughts on a Dreary Thursday Afternoon

Okay, I’m not sure if any of you have ever lost consciousness before, so let me just say very quickly here: Don’t do it.

No, seriously. If you can avoid a situation in which there is a possibility you might lose consciousness, by all means, do so. Whatever you do, do not pass out. Especially if you have foolishly locked yourself in an ER restroom where no one can find you until you come to, drag yourself up from the floor, and stagger out to find a nurse. Or, you know, anyone who will make the world stop spinning. It is NOT fun. Not fun at all. Trust me.

Just FYI.

Also, this? This right here is exactly what happens when you send a man to get support supplies after you bust your ass. Wait. I have to say, it seems like there should be something after that, doesn’t it? Like, “I busted my ass doing this report and this is the thanks I get?!” Or, “Hey, don’t bust your ass trying to get this done, it’s not that big a deal, yo?” You know? But whatever. Hee. I said “but.” Which totally sounds exactly like butt! Because it is a homonym?! Or more specifically, a homophone?! Hee! BUT.

What?

Oh yes… THIS is exactly what happens!

I know, right?! It’s like he just walked into CVS and grabbed the biggest, brightest, most gosh-awfulest butt-support-donut EVER and was like, “Dude. Cat will so totally love me for this. I am the best husband in the entire universe. I wonder if my bike pump will fit this bad boy?” And I was like, “Oh, the HELL you say?!”

I mean, guys? It smells like those kickballs you used to check out from the P.E. teachers at recess! Yeah. Like that. And I can totally bounce it and it makes that rubbery BOING! sound, which I demonstrated to several of my very impressed co-workers. Well, once they recovered from the blinding shock of the Manic Panic Orange, that is.

Honestly.

Thank goodness for my spare office hoodie, that’s all I’m saying.

So… think anyone will notice?

Nathan Bransford’s Surprisingly Essential First Page Challenge

Oh, Bente… Have I told you lately that I love you? Hmm?

So, yeah. Yesterday I got an email from an Aussie/Canadian friend o’ mine, Bente, regarding a literary agent dude by the name of Bransford. Nathan Bransford. Apparently, said literary agent dude opened a contest looking for up-to-500-word submissions of a person’s manuscript’s first page. Right?! RIGHT?! Dude, I’m SAYING. I mean, limiting myself to 500 words? HARD.

However, hundreds and hundreds of aspiring writers had already bombarded the blog by the time I heard about this contest, so it is fortunate that said literary agent dude had the prescience to solicit the assistance of a co-judge– a non-publishing-industry type by the name of Holly Burns (author of the Nothing But Bonfires blog)– who, incidentally, has a British accent, but not like Gwyneth’s or Madonna’s or Britney’s, but a REAL British accent, having been born English and whatnot.

Wait. What?

Oh! Contest! Shut up. I’m totally focused.

So, without much more than a cursory glimpse at Bransford’s– Nathan Bransford’s– website, I proclaimed him legit, threw caution to the wind, took my chances, threw myself in headfirst, pinned my hopes on a cloud, took the leap, jumped in with both feet, grabbed the bull by the horns and freaking wrassled that sucker to the GROUND… er, okay, I’m out.

I submitted an entry.

Yay! *sarcastic jazz hands*

What can I tell you? I’m a crazy person. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you. CRAZY. PERSON.

And now? NOW? Well, I’m all aquiver with anxiety and self-doubt.

So thanks for that, Bente. No, really.

(No, really.)

Take a peek at my 498-word-entry (and feel free to critique) after the cut:
[Read more]

Ponderings and Musings

1. Should I put all the old baggage– the disappointment, the acrimony– behind me and reconcile with American Idol? As much as I hate to admit it, I miss our times together– the laughter, the tears, the recaps– and there’s just so much HISTORY there, you know? It is a tough call… should I throw caution to the wind and jump back in?

2. In this fierce political environment, what is the proper response in casual conversation when a person suddenly makes a vulgar or disparaging remark about a political party as a whole– such as “Democrats are so [choose an expletive]!” or “All Republicans are complete [insert vulgarity here]!”– presented as a statement of fact, with the assumption that everyone else in the group totally agrees? Pushing aside the obvious inadvisability of gross generalizations, not everyone is interested in turning a watercooler discussion about the latest episode of Gossip Girl into a political debate. Hrm… how to diffuse? Must think of witty, all-purpose comeback…

3. When did pom pons get so small? When did that happen? Cheerleaders at televised sporting events look as if they are clutching candy wrappers and waving them at the crowd with their twiggy little arms, all, “See? I eat! See?! I’m not starving myself to fit into my size 0 cheer ’skirt’! Take THAT, biznitches! Wooooooo! Number OOOONE! YEAH!” Right? Weird.

Just Wondering

I’m just wondering if it is kosher to sneak walk into a lounge super early in the morning and buy several cans of soda from the vending machine. You know, at one time. Like, “Do de do de do, I’m just dropping quarter after quarter after quarter into this machine and buying up all the soda– clink, clink, clink, THUNK… clink, clink, clink, THUNK– even though this isn’t even my floor and why on earth do I even need six cans of soda at 6:00 a.m. anyway, do de do de do…”

Oh, I’m not judging. I’m just throwing it out there. Because what if lunch time rolls around and someone is craving, say, I don’t know, a Diet Dr. Pepper, for instance, and some person who doesn’t even work on the 3rd floor has already snuck gone into the 3rd floor lounge super early in the morning– you know, before any sane normal person has even thought of indulging in a tasty soda beverage– and bought all the cans? Can you imagine the disappointment? Especially when it is discovered that all that remains in the vending machine is grape soda? GRAPE SODA?!

I mean, that kind of sneaky behavior just seems like it might be selfish. And bad manners. To me, anyway. But I don’t know. I could be totally wrong. I’m just saying that other people may want some Diet Dr. Pepper, too, but they have been taught from an early age that it isn’t polite to hoard the soda that is purportedly intended to be shared in an equitable manner by everyone on the 3rd floor– a floor on which some people who are stealing purchasing all the good soda may not even work, I might add. I’m just asking. I realize I could be completely wrong here.

In any event, all of this is not to even mention the fiscal ramifications of such greediness behavior. I mean, why do we have access to wholesale warehouses like Costco or BJ’s, if not to supply selfish people consumers with cases and cases of any type of soda they desire? All at a reasonable price designed to fit any budget? Hey, I just think a membership at a wholesale warehouse seems like a more fiscally responsible choice if a person is looking to buy in bulk. All those quarters add up, you know. That’s all I’m saying. But who am I to say? I’m not the soda police.

I was just wondering, is all.

TechnoGeekery Quickies and Other Random Stuff

So, another TG Quickie coming at’cha:

TechnGeekery Quickie #5: Chores and Allowance… Taking it Techno

In this quick episode I discover that tiny mints and newly-applied lip gloss do not mix. Among other things, naturally.

In other news, TGIM came across this very familiar-looking verification code as he was surfing Ticketmaster for tickets to some– oh, I don’t know, sporting event of some sort, I guess?– so he got all excited (a little too excited if you ask me, come to think of it) and took a screenshot and shot it on over to me via email, all “Look! Look! Look what I came across! Kelly would like it because she’s awesome and I love her and did you read her blog today because she is so SO funny and hilarious and man IwishyouweremorelikeKellybecauseshe’ssoawesome, so check it out!” But maybe I might have hyperbole-ed up that last part, but he may as well have said it because it is what he MEANT. Don’t think I don’t know it. Because I know.

What? Oh! The verification code! Right. Focused now.

(click to enlarge)

Gosh, Kelly, even Ticketmaster has a thing for you.

Oh, and speaking of hyperbole, I NEED this t-shirt. Like… NOW, please:

New Year’s Resolutions for 2008

As many of you know, it is a time-honored American tradition to thoughtfully contemplate how best to challenge and better oneself in the coming year, after which one lists several well-meaning resolutions that one has no intention of ever keeping, not even in a million billion years. In this spirit, I offer my humble resolve to become a valuable, more productive member of my family and society by adhering to the following guidelines:

#1: Stop procrastinating. No, but this time I mean it.

#2: Perfect Stairway to Heaven on my guitar. Because it is TRADITION. Duh. Oh, and Give a Little Bit. Um, because Supertramp is way cool, that’s why!

#3: Loosen up, be more flexible. Life is too short, right? So… I should probably stretch out every day. Oh, and take up yoga, perhaps. Yes, yoga. That should limber me up. I mean, you don’t see too many stiff yogis or yoginis wandering around, now do you?

#4: Write and publish a lengthy, involved dissertation proving once and for all that cheerleading is a sport. It is SO. Shut up.

#5: Find creative ways to integrate Buffy the Vampire Slayer and monkeys into everyday conversations. I just think it would be neat to make somebody’s day a little more surreal.

#6: Buy more boots. Self-explanatory.

There. I feel more valuable to society already.

Ear Infections, Flu Bugs, and Stress… Oh MY!

Sick Kids + Sick Momma + Too Many Things I Feel Unnecessarily Compelled To Do = NO FUN AT ALL!

Just sayin’.

In other news, TechnoGeekery Show #11: Google Calendar… and SMS Commands is up at TechnoGeekery.com. I had originally planned for it to be a TechnoGeekery Quickie, but as can sometimes happen, the Quickie turned into a… you know… Longie.

My bad.

When People Get Too Comfortable Together: A Cautionary Tale

TGIM: You know what, Cat? I’m not going to wear my contacts today. I’m going to give my eyes a rest… you know, free eyeball it.

Cat: You’re… wait, what?

TGIM: Oh, hey, that was witty! Write that down.

Cat: Oh, good lord.

Ha Ha Ha? Really?

In Australia, street Santas are being encouraged to replace “ho ho ho!” with “ha ha ha!” You know, because all that deep “ho ho ho!”-ing scares the children? Not to mention the blatant sexist connotations inherent in the traditional phraseology?

Well, what a super idea!

Then again, potentially, any large man in a red velvet suit with a scraggly white beard could scare the bejeebies out of a child, especially when said child is coerced into sitting on the man’s lap while music with the lyrics “He sees you when you’re sleeping, he know’s when you’re awake…” blares in the background.

But that is totally beside the point. Belting out “ho ho ho!” at all those poor, unsuspecting children? All they want is a stinking candy cane, after all. Hey, that could totally damage a child’s psyche, that’s all I’m saying. GOSH.

Triennial Wild Hair… Cut

The cutting… the coloring…

I can’t help myself. It’s a compulsion, I tell you! A COMPULSION!

I cannot be held responsible for my coiffuring compulsions. Just so’s ya know.

DWM Internet Outage, Day 10

OR

“I Hate Verizon with a Flaming Passion.” Whichever.

That being said…

PNME 2007 concert
Originally uploaded by Scott Stys

Man. Paige and I frakkin’ KNOW how to work the booty voodoo, I tell you what. (Sorry, no video… yet. Ooooh! That’s what you call a teaser, y’all!)

Why, yes I DO realize we are big dorks. Why do you ask?

*sigh*

And HA!

Lee Coulter totally loves my booty shaking.

Okay, so highlight of my trip out to Cali? Where I travelled to network and generally Pimp My TechnoGeekery Vidcast at the PNME? Watching Lee Coulter perform Booty Voodoo (and all his other songs o’ course) LIVE, that’s what! So Paige and I could get down. You know, with the booty shaking and whatnot?

Obviously, we made an impression.

“Keep Shaking Da Booty”

Strangely enough, one time all the girls DO say, “Ho!”

Hey. This love ain’t for the faint-hearted.

(More to come…)

TechnoGeekery, and I’m going back to Cali, to Cali, to Cali…

Not that all y’all need any more reasons to mock me, but my new TechnoGeekery podcast is up.

TechnoGeekery Show #7: Breaking Up With Blogger

This week, the question du jour asks about transferring all of one’s posts from one blog host to another. Well, you know how the song goes: They say that breaking up is hard to do…

But it doesn’t have to be like that, and this week’s episode of TechnoGeekery shows you how to break up with Blogger–and move right in with Wordpress.com–in a snap.

Plus, there’s singing! And “Leave Wordpress ALONE” gal! And did I mention the singing?! Super bad singing?! Because there’s that.

That being said, I’m off to California! I’m going back to Cali, to Cali, to Cali… Will I have time to blog? Huh! I don’t think so.

Oh, I kid! I’m attending the Podcast and New Media Expo in sunny CA with my Mommycast BFF’s (TechnoGeekery is part of their new Mommycast and Friends channel at Podango! Woo!) this weekend, so there will be bunches and bunches of technogeeks around playing with techno gadgets and vidcasting and blogging and stuff. I know, right?! Heaven on earth.

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