Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on March 14, 2010

I used to enjoy blogging on Sunday nights. I wasn’t in a crunch for time because I could start at 3 PM or whenever because I wasn’t at work all day! And usually I’d have some hijinks that I would want to share with you all from my weekend. But lately, it’s been the opposite. Because Sunday means the end of the weekend. And it means that it is back to work. And just another Manic Monday.

I had a really bad week last week. I wish I could go into it here, but it is work related and I have learned my lesson from that. But it was one of the worst weeks that I think I’ve had in my professional career. I’m sure I’m partly making it out to be worse than it is, at least I hope I am, but still. The sting of last week, especially last Friday, it’s still right there at the surface. Makes it hard to get excited and want to come into work on Monday morning.

As I’ve gotten older, there are more than a few things I am sure about in my life. I’ve gained confidence in myself and my abilities so while I know that I suck at certain things, there are things that I’m really good at. I think we all know our strengths and weaknesses, right? For the most part? When I’m questioned on something I feel I do strongly in, it eats away at me. Because if I can’t even be good at the things I’m good at, what hope is there for me?

So yeah, that is where my mind is this Sunday evening. I’m actually quite proud of myself because I’ve managed to put it out of my head for most of the weekend and enjoy myself. Like drinking for almost 12 hours on a Saturday. Because I’m 32 so that is quite a feat! Especially since we started at 7:30 AM. And there was a line at the bar! BEFORE 8 AM! And I was standing by the end of the day too!

Now you should all mark your calendars to make a trip out to Chicago for St. Patty’s weekend! We do it right!

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In other news, the best thing about day drinking, or morning drinking as the case may be, is that by 8 PM you’re home tucked into bed and fast asleep. Which means that even with the time change, I got plenty of sleep and woke up rested and actually accomplished something more than lying around on the couch all day moaning about how my head hurt! I actually didn’t do much more than that, actually, except I wasn’t in pain. I even got my taxes done! Thank you Barack Obama for your first-time homebuyer’s tax credit! I can’t wait for my refund! That will got towards buying fancy things like…a lower credit card balance! Woo hoo!

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Plus, I got to wear my favorite shirt. And make up for the fact that I’ll be in Pittsburgh for work, at a dinner with co-workers, on actual St. Patty’s Day on Wednesday.

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So, tell me all about your fancy weekends! Tell me anything, really, to take my mind someplace else!

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, Lensolution 2010 | 10 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on March 10, 2010

The other day I was having a conversation on Google Wave with my fellow Waverlies (we have a name for our online gang. We’re bad ass.) and Crist mentioned that she doesn’t like goats. (Don’t ask me how goats came up. We talk about the most random things ever.) Anyway, the goats made me remember the restaurant in Door County, Wisconsin that had goats on the roof in the summer. Which led me to recall that I did a guest post on that particular thing, over here. Which then led me to clicking links and finding one of the funniest things I’ve ever written, which was also a guest post over at Jodi’s blog.

So because I’ve had a shittastic week at work (IT IS ONLY WEDNESDAY, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!) and know that we can all use a laugh these days, I’m re-posting it here. Because even if you read it almost 2 years ago, it is still pretty funny. If I do say so myself. And if you don’t laugh, don’t tell me. Because as I mentioned – BAD WEEK!

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(Reposted from July 2008)

Every time one of my fellow bloggers asks about guest posts, I am always one of the first people to be all “pick me, choose me, love me.” Oh wait, that was Meredith Grey.

But I always am totally eager to do it because….well, I’m not sure why. I would already be writing a post for that day on my own site and those people get enough of my inane drivel. Why would I subject others to it as well?

Basically, I’m a shameless famewhore, that’s why. So I decided since Jodi was nice enough to let me take over her site for a day, that I would write an ode to reality television. And how I am lured by its glowing television glow week in and week out.

But I’m not a poet. And I’m not even sure what an Ode entails. And I’m sure it has something to do with iambic pentameter or some poetry nonsense, but the fact is I don’t even remember how many syllables are in each line of a Haiku.

Instead, I figured I would talk about what it would be like to be on one of these reality programs. Because we all know we’ve thought about how we’d kick ass on Amazing Race, or would totally fall in love on The Bachelor or how we would like to make out with Simon on American Idol. What? Oh, just me then.

So I have picked three reality television shows that I would like to be on – The Bachelor, The Mole and Rock of Love with Bret Michaels. And I will tell you exactly how my experience would go if I were to be lucky enough to not have to work and could give up weeks at a time to pimp my famewhore self out on national television.

The Bachelor

Let’s face it, I’m 30 32 now (!), I’m single and I live alone with my two cats. Why shouldn’t I be on The Bachelor? I ask you, who wouldn’t want to date me? Clearly I’m quite a catch.

There are a few things that could go wrong. One, I do not own any dresses with sequins, and I’m sure that would deny me a rose. Two, those bitches are all size zero. I am not. Three, what happens if I make it to the final three and forgo my individual room and go to the fantasy suite with The Bachelor? How could you ever face your co-workers and your family? They will know you are a SLUT.

In reality, I wouldn’t make it past the first episode. Two words – free booze. I’d be a drunken, slurry mess by the time the first rose ceremony rolled around.

The Mole

I never watched this show until this current season and that was mostly because Jodi was all “watch The Mole! It is teh awesome! Even without Anderson Cooper!” And that was all it took for me to watch. Plus it is summer and there is not much else on.

The first time I watched it, I was unsure about the plot. Basically one person is the mole and is sabotaging everyone else. Or something. I still get confused when they reveal who the fake ghosts and mummies are on Scooby Doo. so I’m going to be blown away by whoever the mole is come the end of the show. I just hope there is a mask involved and Velma and Fred are there.

In reality if I was on this show, since I’m not the best secret keeper in the world, all it would take would be one drunken night with all of the contestants and I’d slurringly shout “I’m the MOLE, bitches!” And then giggle and pass out in my vat of wine.

Rock of Love

Who would NOT want to be on this show? And I’m not talking about going on to make out with Bret Michaels and his nasty thinning hair and collection of hideous bandanas. I vomited in my mouth a little just typing that. I’m talking about DRAMA. To the millionth degree!

Although, I’d be in trouble the first night when Bret takes sexy photos of you for your tour badge. Because I’d flash my granny panties and full-length Spanx sucking in all the fat rolls and the sexiness would be gone and I’d be booted before my first can of celebratory Bret’s Brew.

And I’d be OK with it because there’s no need to have to show up all those skanks with my pole sliding-down abilities. Straight from the playground to VH1. Wheee!

Oh wait, that’s not what they use that pole for?

And now you see why I’m a watcher. Not a doer.

Category: All Things Blogging, All Things TV, Laffs | 8 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on March 9, 2010

My weekend last weekend wasn’t just contained to meeting my little leprechaun. (I was just going to write “follow your nose!” and then realized that was Toucan Sam.)

ANYWAY, after my interesting Friday night, I again put my big girl panties on (around 2 PM) and got ready to head out to a pub crawl they were having over near Wrigley. It was for charity! And I’m all about drinking beer for charity! Or for any reason!

We had an OK time, but the pub crawl was crowded and the bars on Southport aren’t really big enough to support a pub crawl. So we ditched it about three bars in and went to a local neighborhood bar. Where we played pool and got colored in chalk. We left there and hopped to another bar and ate pizza from some stranger’s party and then left. We ended up at the craziest dive bar I’ve been to in my life. And I’ve been to some doozys!

This bar is actually closer to my house on the North side. My friend Melissa had read about it and wanted to try it out. She said it was an Eastern European bar. And I was all “whatever that means.” I will never say that again in my life.

We first walked in and the place is small and pitch black. I don’t think there are any lights in there at all. We take a seat at the bar, which is more like a chin rest because it comes up that high. It was like being a little kid at the bar! Complete with bendy straws in our drinks!

I’m pretty sure we were the only people in there who spoke English as a first language. There was some woman singing (karaoke?) in a different language. And there were people sitting around tables, intently listening to her (or staring at us).

My friends got up to go to the restroom and the bartender handed me a plastic cup filled with water and told me that I can smoke in there, but just to drop the ashes in the cup. I don’t smoke, but my two friends do, and let me tell you, they were over the moon! I kind of was too because they go out to smoke and then I have to sit at the bar alone and Twitter. Now we could all be together! Huzzah for bars who break the law!

When they were in the bathroom, I also noticed a few kids. I was a bit out of it since we had been drinking since about 3 and it was, at that point, after 10. So we commented on the fact that there were kids! IN A BAR! You have a baby! IN A BAR!

And then the little one, who couldn’t have been more than 5, got up to go sing! In a bar! At 11 PM!

Right before we left, some man came up and gave us each a flower, a single carnation each. To remember our night at this bar, I guess. All I know is we’re SO going back!

(Flower squished because it has been sitting under a pile of crap on the counter since Saturday night.)

So tell me, do you have any good dive bar stories? Because I probably have enough for a weekly feature!

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, Hooch Hilarity, Lensolution 2010 | 12 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on March 8, 2010

Disclaimer: If you are my mother, related to me, work with me or used to work with me, you might want to skip this post. You have been warned.

On Friday night my friend Lara was having a get together for her birthday. I spent the day whining to anyone who would listen because I am OLD and going out at 9 PM on a Friday night is HARD! And then my friend Melissa was like “suck it up, you fool! You need to get out of your Grandma funk! PUT ON YOUR BIG GIRL PANTIES!”

So I did. I kept myself busy when I got home from work on Friday evening. I made sure that I didn’t take a nap because if I had taken a nap, I would have been down for the count. I made coffee and added some Bailey’s to it. And I love Lara and she helped me celebrate my birthday, so the least I could do was suck it up and be a big girl and go out and have a good time.

And boy, howdy, am I glad I did! Because I am apparently a cougar! And I took a nice, YOUNG, 24-year old Irish lad home to my condo! He was the first one I’ve brought back to my new place. AND I HAVE LIVED HERE ALMOST A YEAR NOW!

24. That is almost nine years younger than me! NINE! I nabbed myself a child! A fetus! A cute fetus, though, no?

I should back up a little because it was a pretty interesting night. So Irishman was 24, originally from Ireland and going to law school here, had a very sexy accent, a twinkle in his eye and a baby face. I was immediately attracted because he could have looked like Mickey Rourke and I would have still loved him. I am a SUCKER for an accent.

Anyway, we talked for a chunk of the night. He was so adorable. Like a little brother. He told us Midwestern women intimidate him because we’re so honest and real. I pinched his cheeks. I honestly thought there was nothing more there than chit chat and him putting up with the old lady chatting him up at a bar. Where there were people his own age! Clearly I was not drunk enough to be overconfident.

I think he was pretty drunk. Which, interesting to note, he talked slower, which was better since it is hard to understand an Irish accent sometimes. At one point, his buddy was talking to Lara and he says “so when are we going back to your place?” And then I laughed and laughed and laughed! Mr. Innocent, “oh-Midwestern-women-frighten-me”, was fixin’ to get into my pants. So I did what any immature 32 year old would do, I told Lara and this other dude how Mr. Innocent isn’t really so innocent! And we laughed….

But the Irishman got MAD! He didn’t like that I was ruining his game! What if people start talking? He’ll never hook up with anyone again with his innocent act! So I apologized because he was really upset and had that sad puppy dog look in his twinkling eyes. Sucker. Right here. (points to self.)

And then? He decided he was heading home because he was a little wobbly. So we all said our goodbyes and that was that. One of Lara’s friends was like “did he get your number?” And I’m like “nope. He just flirted with me all night and then left! Silly kids!” Like I mentioned, he was flirty and touchy-touchy, but I honestly didn’t think he was interested.

About 15 minutes later, Irishman came back into the bar. And we were all “he’s baaaack!” He comes over to me and is all “do you know how long I’ve been outside waiting for you?” And I tell him “well, if you’re wanting someone to go with you, you kind of have to SAY something.” Kids. *eye roll*

So we left. He didn’t want to go to his place. I didn’t really want him at my place, since it was not clean. Also, Aunt Flo was in town, so it wasn’t like we were going to be doing much of anything anyway. I told him this much because why should he come all the way up north to my place when he’s not going to be getting any?

He apparently thought he could change my mind. Oh kids, they are so adorable.

We end up making out in the cab. And I’m not drunk enough at this point to be OK with this. Because I’m the Cab Driver Whisperer. And for some reason, this weirds me out. But whatever, I go with the flow. We get to my place. I drink a huge glass of water and ask him if he wants anything. He wants another beer. And I’m reminded, YET AGAIN, that there is a large age difference between us. (Also, I have a pub crawl I have to get up for the next day, so I need to actually be able to get up.)

We sit on the couch and chat for awhile. Until he gets antsy and wants to “go to bed.” So I remind him that all we’re going to be doing is sleeping. Not “sleeping”. He still thinks he’s going to convince me otherwise.

Yada, yada, yada, after some making out and him getting pissed that I won’t “sleep” with him, he tells me he’s going. Because, and I swear I can’t make this up, he has really nice sheets at home. They are Egyptian cotton. And he can’t sleep on my apparently crappy sheets.*

I just laugh. And I call him a cab. He tries unsuccessfully one more time to woo me, to no avail, and then huffs off, literally like stomps out of my place in a huff, and says he’ll just wait outside for the cab no matter how long it takes.

And then I go to bed laughing and think “THIS is why I have a blog. Because I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.”

*Did you all ever see that movie with Brittany Murphy and Dakota Fanning, where Brittany is the nanny and she dates this rock star who makes up a song about her about “sheets of Egyptian cotton”? I’ve had that song in my head all weekend. (Uptown Girls! You can hear the song here!)

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, Age is Just a Number, Hooch Hilarity, Lensolution 2010 | 26 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on March 7, 2010

I’m currently watching the Oscars and refreshing Twitter a thousand times a minute because then it feels like I am back in college and watching the Oscars with my friend Amber. It’s not as fun to make snarky comments to your cats. They don’t really care and are more amused by licking their assholes.

Anyway, because I love the Oscars and because I did nothing today but sleep and eat a large quantity of Taco Bell, I don’t have time to write a proper blog post. And boy oh boy does this weekend need a proper recap. It needs a post! Or probably two! Because it was that good and kind of ridiculous, but in the most awesome way possible. There was beer! And hot Irish kids! (No really! He was 24! I AM A COUGAR!) And weird dive bars! And karaoke in a different language! And cab drivers! OF COURSE!

But that will have to wait until tomorrow. Until then, I give you a Public Service Announcement: Be wary of a drunk person with a pool stick in hand. You may end up “marked”.

Category: All Things Blogging, Lensolution 2010 | 8 Comments »
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