Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on February 26, 2008

I took the day off on Monday. This serious case of the blahs and Seasonal Affective Disorder and whatever else has made me hate getting up for work and wishing that I had a vacation. And not even to a tropical place. Just a vacation to my couch. I also usually tend to wake up thinking it is the wrong day, usually the day after it really is, which means I’m always itching for the work week to be over.

So I took the day off. And gave myself a three-day weekend. Which seemed like a good idea because there were errands to run, laundry to be done, apartment to be cleaned. But all I did was nap, read blogs and go grocery shopping. And also learned that I do not want to go back to work tomorrow. Me thinks this day off had the opposite effect.

Part of the reason I took Monday off was because I had an action-packed weekend. So I knew I was going to need another day of rest. And I was right.

Friday night a bunch of us went out to the burbs to celebrate Schwerer’s birthday. And we saw a great 80s cover band. And there was a sea of cute boys to drool over. And only drool, because they were all clearly under 25. In fact, there were two that I KNOW were not even 21. And I pointed to them every time they passed us. Because I’m obnoxious like that. And they were BREAKING THE LAW! WHO LET THEM IN HERE?

The weirdest thing was that Schwerer got a message on MySpace the next day from some guy who saw her at the bar and wanted to see if she wanted to go out. Let me just point out that this dude didn’t talk to Schwerer at the bar, so he didn’t know her name. He just searched through all the female profiles in the Chicagoland area until he came across her face. Creepy much?

They stamped your hand when you came in, since IL is now no smoking, so people need the in and out privileges. But the stamp was either a picture of Jesus or Charles Manson. It was really a toss up.

Saturday night I headed out to another birthday party. This was a surprise 30th party for my friend Carrie. And it was one of those pay a certain amount of money for all-you-can-drink for three hours kind of parties. Which means I don’t really have much to share from the evening. Because it is erased from my drunken memory. Here is what I maybe know:

• I had a lot of liquor.
• Luis Guzman was there. And he was short. And doesn’t like obnoxious drunk people.
• And all I remembered him from was Free Radio when Lance said he was the guy in Ghost.
• Because my friend was telling everyone after we met him that “he was in Boogie Nights and Ghost.”
• I think the shot of Jameson burned off all of the lining from the inside of my stomach.
• And it also sent me from the edge of remembering most everything to not remembering much.
• I think I made out with some guy.
• But that could be in my head.
• We went to a second bar, closer to our hood, and I think I lasted all of about 20 seconds.
• I really had to vomit and knew I should get home.
• I stood outside and waited for a cab forever.
• All while spitting on the ground.
• Don’t ask me why I remember that.
• FINALLY a cab came. He was a nice man.
• I mentioned to him that I waited forever for a cab and that no one would stop for me.
• This is all I remember telling him, besides my address.
• But it never fails, this cabbie was in love with me too.
• He dropped me off and got out of his car and said “Give me huggy, huggy.”
• No. Really. That’s what he said.
• And then I hugged him.
• That’s apparently my thing because that’s got to be the fifth or sixth time that has happened to me

So needless to say, other than watching the Oscars and coating my lining-less stomach with greasy Mexican food and pizza, I didn’t get much accomplished on Sunday. Except for sleeping. I did a good job with that.

I wish I could somehow find a way to go through work like you are shitfaced so you don’t have to remember how you wanted to be just about any place else.

At least I’m hanging out with some of my favorite bloggers on Tuesday night! 

:::

And finally, even though he doesn’t read, I want to wish a very happy birthday to my brother! Who can be irritating, but whom I still love. Happy Birthday Mike!

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, Hooch Hilarity | 20 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on February 25, 2008

Tonight was The Oscars. It’s like one of my favorite days. It’s the Super Bowl of award shows. I live for the red carpet and all the celebrities in one place. It’s like a snark fest.

Usually. Tonight was horrible. There weren’t any overly horrible dresses. There was some bad hair though. (I’m looking at you Renee Zellweger. That better be for a movie role.) There were no real moments. The best part of the night occurred on the red carpet about an hour before the show when Gary Busey attacked Ryan Seacrest and then Jennifer Garner and it was all very weird. And I’m not sure 1) why Gary Busey gets to go to the Oscars and 2) what the hell that dude was on, but Seacrest was FRIGHTENED.

Last year I did a recap of the show. And it was all long and boring, but people wore pretty dresses. This year I was over at MamaPop Talk starting at 6 PM to share all my comments with someone, anyone, besides my cats. And I didn’t have many. Because for the love of all that is good and holy, those montages were horrible. Can you imagine what it would have been like had there been no writers? It was one of the worst Oscars telecast I can remember.

And seriously, Enchanted? I’ve heard you are a good movie. But after seeing those three crappy songs performed, I don’t think I ever want to see you. And how awesome was it that they had the majority of the nominations and got shut out!

I didn’t see any of the movies. I actually wasn’t even rooting for anyone. I like that a stripper turned blogger turned screenwriter won an Oscar. Even if she dressed like a stripper to the OSCARS. You can’t see it in the photo, but the slit runs right up almost past her hoo hah. I saw more of her thigh than I cared to.

Katherine Heigl had BAD hair. And BAD lipstick (it doesn’t need to match the exact shade of your dress, honey). And a weird circly thing on the shoulder. But it was very flattering. Even if EVERYONE wore red.

Anne Hathaway improved drastically on her craptacular bow dress from last year. I actually liked the flowers on the shoulder thing. And her hair looked great too.

Jennifer Hudson learned from a past mistake and ditched the space jacket. But didn’t really do much better.

There was a disturbing trend of furry boob dresses.

I don’t even know who this person is. And her winning an award for a movie I’ve never heard of doesn’t make me want to know any more about her. Especially after wearing this dress, which we MamaPop betches referred to as the “fish dress.” And I’m pretty sure it must look better in person because on TV it looked hideous. But everyone kept fawning over it on the red carpet.

Heidi Klum looked stupid. And they are giving this dress away. Diet Coke is, according to their commercials. Why would I want to win this? And we won’t even get into the fact that that’s only about enough material to cover one of my legs.

This guy is hot. But he kind of looks like Denny from Grey’s Anatomy. His acceptance speech was great!

This was hands down the worst dress of the evening. It looks like a trash bag. It is ALL WRONG. And it’s cool that she rocked the no make-up, natural look, but still. It’s the Oscars. A little mascara or lipstick wouldn’t kill you. And fire your stylist. NOW.

John Travolta and his spray-on hair made me want to run as far away as I could.

I thought Felicity Keri Russel looked good. Although she should stay away from colors that make her translucent.

And finally my favorite of the night, my new favorite girl crush because I think we’d totally be BFFs and I could go to the park with her and push Violet on the swings too, is Jennifer Garner. Who clearly is not pregnant. Unless she’s like 3 days pregnant.

And it is a good thing I took Monday off from work. Because that six hours I spent watching all this madness sucked the life out of me. And I would kind of like a lot of that time back.

Category: Award Shows | 26 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on February 21, 2008

Death Is Not An Option is on vacation this week. Because Kristabella feels like death because she’s still under the impression that she is 24 years old and is completely capable of drinking bad draft beer until midnight and then getting up EARLY the next morning and being able to function the entire day. Kristabella is not only living in a fantasy world, alcohol has also made her a complete moron. And that’s the part of the brain that takes over when it is 11 PM on a Wednesday night and you order yourself another crappy draft Bud Light because it is ONE DOLLAR. And anyone who turns down ONE DOLLAR beers is a complete jackass.

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I went to go see 27 Dresses tonight. And I thought it was just great. It was a very good romantic comedy. I know it didn’t get good reviews, but as I told my friend, I go by US Weekly’s movie reviews. They review it for entertainment factor. Which is why they gave it 3 stars out of 4. I really liked it. And it was funnier than I thought it would be.

And that James Marsden is one fine piece of man meat. I am going have some good dreams about him tonight. It is a good thing I’m so exhausted, because I want to fall asleep as quickly as possible tonight to get right to the dreaming.

He just earned himself an entry into the next DINAO. And from here on out, depending on how good my dreams are.

And I’m sure I’ll end up dreaming about cats riding bicycles.

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I had dinner with The Hotfessional on Wednesday night. We went to The Reagle Beagle and had some lovely conversation interspersed with cheese, bread, apples, bread and some more cheese. I knew I loved her before last night. But when she said we should order Swiss cheese fondue, some fried breadsticks with a cheese dipping sauce AND a fruit and cheese platter, I thought I would leap over the table and lick her face. Because nothing is better than alcohol than alcohol and cheese.

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Hotfessional gave me my prize from winning a contest of hers. I came up with a witty title for a blog post or something. And my prize will come in handy with this bitterly cold weather that has dried my lips out like they’ve been in that food dehydrator that Ron Popeil shills on infomercials. Plus I heard a rumor that beer drinking isn’t good for the dehydration either.

Yay! I winned!

I bet James Marsden will like my lips kissably soft.

Burt’s Beeswax has another happy customer.

And no, I haven’t been drinking. Must be the leftovers from last night.

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Not only did I decide to go out until the wee hours of the morning yesterday, I also had to get up an hour earlier because we had a Breakfast Club meeting. It’s a super-secret-squirrel club at work. Which consists of 5 people. Because we are the awesomest. We get together once a month to have breakfast. The end.

And I tell ya, nothing will get this lazy, hungover, fat ass out of bed faster than the promise of Mexican food at 7 AM.

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As I was driving to the movie tonight, I had a GREAT idea for a blog post. (No it wasn’t this crap. I said GREAT. With CAPS.) And because I was in the car with a friend, I thought it to be rude to interrupt the story she was telling that I clearly wasn’t paying attention to because the voices inside my head were already busying themselves with this GREAT post, so I didn’t write it down or say it out loud for her to remind me at a later time. And whatever this post was, I was laughing and laughing inside my head.

I have no idea what it was. But it was GREAT. And apparently God damned funny.

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Do you know what one does when one is hungover at work and has the brain capacity for little more that getting the water into her mouth and not all over her shirt? You spend all morning finding people to send ecards to. From this site.

I’m getting this one on a T-shirt. Or as a new blog header.

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, All Things Blogging | 24 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on February 19, 2008

So I was talking with a co-worker today and somehow the subject of dating came up and I sat and realized that “wow, I’m in a dating drought.” (Side note: does it make me an alcoholic that my first inclination was to spell that draught?)

I haven’t been on a date in forever. I was on match.com for a few months this summer and never got as much as an email back. My last date, that I can remember, because the alcohol makes me forgetful, was back in 2006. I think it was either spring or fall. Clearly it was quite a memorable date.

I am what you would call a “late bloomer.” I never had a boyfriend until I was 28. I never dated much. And by much, I mean never. Part of it was that I was always a guy’s girl, so I was always more of a friend than a potential love interest. I was also fat and didn’t love my body and I think my low self-esteem had a lot to do with my lack of dating. Guys can sense that.

So I don’t have a lot of bad date stories. Thankfully. Almost all of them have been pleasant and I have enjoyed the person’s company, even if there was no chemistry. Except for this one time.

Back in 2005, a few months after I moved back to Chicago, a few college friends came into town. We all became friends when we lived on the same dorm floor freshman year at Arizona State. That really has nothing to do with this story, by the by.

We spent the weekend downtown and ended up having pizza at Gino’s East for lunch one afternoon. We end up with a nice waiter, a bit of a smart ass, but as long as he brings me out my deep dish and my friend cheese, he’s golden in my book. His name tag says Geeves. My one friend, who is married, strikes up a conversation with him, asking him if his real name is Geeves and going on and on asking him all about him. And basically just delaying this man from putting our pizza order in. And I am cranky because a girl needs to eat!

So we chat with him. He’s nice. Whatever. Bring me my food, Geeves.

My friends, a married mother and two people from out of state, ask him what he’s doing that evening and then invite him out with us. They get his phone number, to call him later so that we can all rendezvous at the bar around 2. I think nothing of this because I am in this restaurant for one reason. I am here to eat pizza and preferably not get any of it on my white capri pants.

Apparently my friend did all this because she thinks that he is cute and a nice guy and that I should totally date him. I, being the only sane person at the table apparently, think this is a BAD idea and think we should drop this altogether. Because he’s not my type, he’s short and he is a Sox fan. And I’m here for PIZZA!

He ends up meeting us out that night. We end up at Howl at the Moon because I’m apparently drawn to that place like a Hilton to DUIs. We chit chat a little. I make an effort because I am being pressured by my friend, who is about three steps away from declaring me a spinster and dried up because I must date this man! I’m running out of options! There will be no good guys left because you’re almost 30! And you have to take what you can get!

He’s nice. All I remember is that he showed up in a white T-shirt, jeans and matching brand-spanking new white tennis shoes that he did NOT want scuffed up. Which I learned when I drunkenly stepped on his small foot and he got peeved. Oh, and he had a White Sox hat on. On top of it, he was short and he smoked. I had NO feelings for this guy.

I end up giving him my number. Because my friend is pretty persuasive. And I’m starting to think that maybe this is all that is left for me. And maybe I should snatch this up because if it isn’t getting any better, it sure is getting A LOT worse.

At this time, I’m living with my brother and his family way up north in the suburbs. Geeves lives on the South Side. In Bridgeport. A stone’s throw from Mayor Daley, as he tells me. So for our first date, we meet halfway and go to dinner and a movie. The highlight? He got mad when I offered to pay, telling me it was insulting. And we saw Batman Begins, which was awesome. The low-light was when, during the movie, I went to put my jacket on because it was cold in the theater and he said I could “put my hand in his because he could warm me up.”

And then I vomited in my mouth.

We had a second date. We went to dinner down in his hood and then we were going to some dive bar because he was on a pool team and his team was playing pool that night. Or something. On the way to dinner, we started talking about rap music and somehow the subject of marijuana came up. (I think we were listening to Ludacris.) And then, out of the blue, he blurts out “I’ve only done coke twice in my life.”

That sound you heard was my jaw hitting the floor.

It’s not like I asked. I didn’t even ask him if he had ever smoked pot. We went from Ludacris to pot to his trial run with cocaine.

I didn’t know what to say. I was STUNNED. I kept looking for the eject button. I actually debated about how painful it would have been to have tucked and rolled my way right onto Cicero Avenue. Because that would have been less painful. And the date had just STARTED. I had to sit through dinner and some stupid pool match. What. The fuck?

Clearly my mind was made up after this. I went to dinner. And watched him play pool. The whole time he got mad because I was looking around and people watching. Did I mention we were at a dive bar on the South Side of Chicago? Because some of those people, people he KNEW, they didn’t have teeth! It was like I found myself in an episode of The Simpsons with Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel. It was a wonder that these people had shirts and shoes to get service.

That was our last date. Clearly. I had only gone on the second date because of the pressure from my friend. Telling me that you can’t tell everything on a first date. And that you have to give it at least two dates.

It was right then and there that I decided that I would never be pressured into going out with anyone my friends wanted me to. Especially when I knew I didn’t want to. And I also realized that my gut is the only one to trust. And that if someone wanting to hold your hand in a theatre makes you have to swallow your own vomit, it’s not the right place for you to be.

I’ll take spinster cat lady over that any day.

Category: Spinsterville Here I Come | 20 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on February 18, 2008

I have self-diagnosed myself with that Seasonal Affective Disorder. Because I’m always tired and I want to eat. Oh, and I HATE winter. I either have that or I’m secretly a bear and getting ready to hibernate.

It’s made me all blah and not want to blog or watch TV or do anything. And look, if I don’t want to be on the computer or watch Big Brother, than something is wrong. If I’m going to bed at 8:30 PM by choice, then I’m lacking some sort of chemical or something in my brain. Besides brain cells. Because we all know I’m missing brain cells from all the drinking.

So I’ve been kind of neglecting poor old Kristabella. But I figure no post is better than more posts about cat puke. Because the cat puke hasn’t stopped, FYI. And then I thought about writing posts of all questions, but then Candy would seriously fly to Chicago and kick my ass down three fucking flights of stairs. And plus, it’s more fun to irritate her with that over email.

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Also, I missed the Surprise Virtual Engagement Party for Jen at Operation Pink Herring. She just recently got engaged in the rain in Spain mainly on the plain, and bloggers united to offer their congrats! Naturally, I forgot to post, mostly because the Seasonal Disorder is affecting (so that’s why they call it Seasonal Affective Disorder! SAD) my ability to come up with anything creative. See the previous paragraphs.

So congrats Jen and Joel! I am just fashionably late to the party.

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This weekend I babysat for the two cutest kids in the whole world, my niece Skyler and my nephew Noah.

See? Cute. Even if Skyler can’t be bothered to look away from the TV. Do I have to mention again why we’re so alike?

My brother and sister-in-law had a nice romantic night away from home in downtown Chicago. I agreed to do it because it means free dinner and free laundry. Plus my brother just got a new 46-inch flat panel. BONUS!

Here is a run down of my weekend. In true Kristabella fashion. Read: bullets.

• Scott Baio made me cry. AGAIN. Why am I so invested in his life? And why am I feeling as proud as a mother seeing him mature into an honest-to-goodness adult? And when will Johnny V just go away already? The world would be a better place without him.
• My calves are hurting me. Why, you ask? I have no idea. Unless I didn’t properly elevate them on the recliner as I was sitting on my ass and doing nothing. I mean, babysitting.
• Actually, no, sitting on my ass. Because we watched a lot of movies and TV. Because they could ask Auntie to fly around the moon and I’d do it for them.
• Maybe that’s why my calves hurt?
• I’m sticking with atrophy.
• I now know all the words to the songs in the Candy Land movie, Sonic’s Christmas Blast and every Dora the Explorer episode.
• I lie, only the Super Babies Dora episode. Because we watched it 12 times on Sunday alone.
• Don’t tease a two year old with anything by telling her that she can do something in the morning. Because when she wakes up? She’s going to want to do what you promised. It will be the first things she says.
• And then you’ll be watching a movie made from a board game at 7:30 on a Sunday morning.
• Don’t ever see that movie. EVER. The damn gingerbread kid in that movie, Jib, is way too fucking uptight for a kid going to a damn candy festival. Shut the fuck up, Jib! Who cares about your frosting?
• Donuts are the nectar of the gods.
• And nothing will make you happier than your niece telling mom and dad that no, she doesn’t want to go to the hotel with them. She wants “to stay with Auntie and eat donuts.” I’m excited I rank right below donuts, to be quite honest.
• If allowed, Skyler will eat nothing but donuts and peanut butter cups. She’ll even make sure to take a huge bite of the heart-shaped peanut butter cup at the exact moment you turn your back so that she can be all sneaky.
• Except for the fact that she’s two and had chocolate colored drool running down her chin.
• I swear my back was turned for a hot second. That kid is QUICK!
• Any wonder why we’re related?
• Arguing with a five-year old is not a good idea. You may KNOW you are right. But he’s FIVE. So he’s pretty sure he’s right. Because he’s almost SIX.
• And why can’t I just let it go? He’s FIVE!
• Paying attention and not zoning out on the couch on the weekends is very tiring. So tiring I had to take a little snooze during one of the Candy Land showings.
• I will never be good at video games.
• Free laundry is worth its weight in gold. And I had a LOT of laundry this weekend.
• Making silly voices when reading The Gingerbread Man can make a little girl giggle.
• It’s one of the best sounds in the world.
• My sense of humor is not wasted on kids.
• I attract puking cats. It’s like a beacon. Because my brother’s cat puked when I was there.
• Cat puke is harder to clean out of carpet.
• Hardwood floors are the way to go. At least with my cats.
• These kids are the reason I moved back to Chicago. Because who could live 3,000 miles away from this?

Sporty Skyler wearing her “Strawberry Shortcake hat.” Engrossed by Dora and wondering if Dora and Boots and the Super Babies will ever make it across Crocodile Lake! Dun dun dun.

My nephew knows how to spend his Sunday mornings.

I can has cuteness?

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I have a new post up over at Betty Confidential. Go. Read. Register. Speak your mind in the message boards.

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, All in the Family, All Things Blogging | 17 Comments »
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