Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on June 14, 2007

I learned a big blogging lesson today. Don’t ask teh interweb for assvice on shoes when you only want them to throw insane compliments your way and make you feel good. People, I’m way too insecure to fucking hear your honest opinions!

My shoes are awesome. Period.

But to beat a dead horse, since it’s what I do best, I took some more photos. Because yes, I wore those shoes to work today. And because apparently you guys needed a better “idea” of the awesomeness that is my bedazzled shoes! (Shoes. Awesome. Period. Remember?)

(It also gave me an excuse to go through the photos that have been on my camera since 2006, which we’ll get to later.) (I also have zero creativity and am feeling very blah and cranky and photos cheer everyone up, right?)

X-Zibit A (see what I did there? Like the wrapper rapper?)

Besides learning that I’m a lazy whore who could clean her damn mirrors every NOW AND THEN, here’s what they looked like with my pants today. (And by the way, that mirror is old and most of that is like permanently etched in dirt. I swear.)

X-Zibit B

Strike a pose. This is with today’s suburban soccer mom outfit. Which as I told Jenn, is why I bought the shoes. To stop dressing like a suburbanite. Also? Notice Simba in the background. And my gut about to break free from my pants.

X-Zibit C

From the side. Simba has finished his biznass. And I need to lose some weight.

X-Zibit D

I tried to tug the pants up a little to show the bling. But not too far since I haven’t shaved in awhile.

And by the way, these were the shoes I wanted to emulate when I bought this bejeweled mess. Because these shoes I heart. But I broke the heel off when I was drunk in Orlando and they aren’t on Zappos.com anymore. Sad, pouty face.

Damn! Even my feet are chubby. But see how cute? And not over the top shiny? Maybe I should have spent that money on fixing these instead of buying the other ones? Yeah, hindsight and 20s and numbers and all that.

But anyway, while taking all these totally unnecessary photos of my feet! And shoes! And me in pants bursting at the seams! The memory card on my camera was full. So I had to delete some photos. Which caused me to find some photos from Christmas with my mom and her grandkids. And one of my niece back when she had less hair and couldn’t walk. Enjoying the awesome present her Auntie got for her. And non-verbally telling Auntie to go fuck herself and put the damn camera down for fuck’s sake. (My niece inherited her potty mouth from her Mahnee.)

Some photos from Schwerer’s birthday. This, by the way, is about 3 pitchers before I fell out of my chair. Even though Jenn was driving, not drinking, and still managed to fall way before any of us. Black ice my ass. (And why are we so shiny? My flash is too good. Or we could all use some decent-ass face powder.)

A LOT of photos of me drunk, taking photos of my hair. Which we don’t need to see again. Click as you see fit. You’ve been warned.

And finally, the photos I took last night. Of Simba. lolcats.

What be this? I is ate teh bakon?

Bacon, I are spinning u. Should I go puke on her slippers? What would you do Bacon?

Well, you know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat. Bacon will have none of this insubordination.

(Gawd, people. I’m kidding. He was just badly injured. I don’t know how that hot grease spit halfway across the room at him.) (By the way, this will never get old, in case you’re wondering.)

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, General | 12 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on June 13, 2007

So I have like all these little things to mention. And since I’m tired and a lazy whore, you’re getting them all in the same post. Because these things? Must be written. And you must read them.

Item 1 – It’s still hot at work. Not as bad, but still my fuse is still on the short side. But no paper cutter accidents to speak of just yet.

Item 2 – While attempting to cool off last evening, I decided to treat myself to a refreshing ice cream bar. But apparently charging over $5 a box for Weight Watchers ice cream bars doesn’t cover actually putting the stick through the CENTER of the ice cream bar. Which when it is eleventy hundred degrees in my apartment ends up melting huge ice cream chunk right off the stick. And tumbling onto my damn white shirt. That was new. I should wear it to work and be all “see what this lack of air conditioning turned me in to? A hot mess.”

Item 3 – There’s this weird odor wafting through my house. It smells like wet dog. Or maybe cat ass. I don’t know. It’s not me. Believe me, I’ve smelled myself every which way till Tuesday. But I don’t like it. One bit! It could be the stench of the Cubs. I’m not that far from Wrigley.

Item 4 – I finally moved my gym. From downtown one with no accessible parking to one on my way home with free parking. FREE! Which now means I just have to go. Just so I can justify them taking $64 out of my account each month. I think I was last there in April.

And now! On to the real reason of this fabulous craptastic post!

Do you guys like these shoes? (Damn I have big-ass feet!)

I’m not sure I like them yet. Even though I’ve probably worn them a total of five times so far. Which makes this completely moot.

They are a lot more expensive than what I usually spend on shoes, especially sandals that are going to be tore up and probably smell like cat ass come the end of the summer. From the bare-footedness. Which leads to perspiration. Have I mentioned we have no air conditioning in the office? Or no real semblance of fake cold air? Or that heat makes me angry? (I use feeling words.)

(There’s that smell again. Could the cats have peed on something? What does cat piss smell like? Simba did puke on my slippers today. Which is his way of telling me that he doesn’t like it when I leave and that I need to TURN THE FUCKING HEAT OFF!!!) (See, Beavis, I told you.)

Anyway. We were talking about shoes. (No, it’s not the shoes that smell.) (I checked.) I’m not sure if I like these. They’re really flashy. I mean these are like Liza Minnelli jewels on these shoes. They make noise when I walk. Like I’m wearing 37 bangles on my arms. I’m not even kidding. I have started humming when I walk so people refer to me as “The Humming Girl.” As opposed to “Girl With Jingly Shoes” or “What the Fuck is That Noise?” or they just ask me where Santa and his reindeer are.

I tried asking the guy at work who I’m tight with because he’s also a smart ass and has a big mouth, and who dresses nice and is a clothes snob. And like I mentioned, will tell you what he thinks of these gaudy shoes!

He never gave me a definite answer. I think at one point he said they were kind of sexy. But his lack of praise or hate left me to believe he was trying to be nice. Since we’ve only known each other like 3 weeks. Or maybe he could give two shits about my bedazzled shoes. Probably the latter.

The one girl at work today complimented them. But my pants covered the bejeweledness of it all, so I’m not sure she really saw the bling bling. (I know! You’re having a hard time thinking of me in pants that go over my shoes! Like pants are supposed to! BRILLIANT!)

So I know they are hard to see, but what do you think? (I was going to take a photo with my foot in them, but I got a lot of weirdoes wanting to be my “friends” on Flickr after I took photos of my feet in shoes at the wedding in SF in February.) (And then I thought about giving you the link to Zappos.com but I don’t want my Mom all “you spent HOW much on a pair of tacky sandals???”)

Not that it matters. I can’t return them. This will just give me a guide as to if I should ever be caught dead in public again wearing them. And if I just wasted money on trying to be a flashy whore.

And yes, I already asked Bacon. He said “Boycott Tofu” and frankly, bacon, WTF?

Except he’s probably advising me to not even post this piece of dung since I’m probably going to end up tripping over the damn shoes that are sitting in the middle of the damn floor.

Bacon can also see the future, apparently. Is there nothing Bacon can’t do? Clearly, no.

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, General | 10 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on June 12, 2007

Let the whining commence. Cue the tiny violins…

Because you know why? Because it’s hot. And I don’t have air conditioning in my car. And all I apparently own are dark colored pants that must be made out of wool. Or one of those weird fabrics in the cotton commercials that DON’T BREATHE! And P.S. I drive completely north on my way home, which means Evil Sun and all his hotness are burning holes right into my skin.

(My air conditioner has a leak. My brother re-charged it 2 summers ago and all the coolness that I love in fake air that comes in a can was gone in about 2 months. So basically I have him re-charge it every summer just to get me through the hotter than Hades months. (As opposed to just the warmer months.) But I haven’t gotten around to it yet. But he’s going to do it on Saturday. Whether he knows it or not.) (And no, I’m not going to get it fixed because it costs over a grand. And I’m not sure my car is even worth that. With or without air conditioning.)

What was I saying? Sorry, the heat exhaustion is getting to me.

Oh right. HEAT. And hotness. And not in the appearance of people kind of way (like George Clooney is hot.) (Sorry, Scarlet, hott.) Not ONLY was it hot in my car. And outside. It was hot in the office. Like put your ass to sleep and then make you so fucking cranky you cut someone’s finger off with the paper cutter. ON PURPOSE!

Now, I’ve always worked at places that were freezing. At the Niners, I wore a fleece jacket every day. Until John York finally noticed, coming over to my cube and remarking at the ice box qualities. I think that’s the only time I agreed with him. Although he probably called me Cindy.

At the dirt place, I wore the same Niners fleece every day. Even when it was 100 degrees outside. Which makes you look like the world’s biggest asshat when you go to lunch with a fleece on. Zipped up to your neck. Like a flasher or something. (Sometimes I thought about purposely wearing something that totally didn’t match my pants since no one saw it anyway. But that would be the day the air conditioning would break. And then they’d probably lock me up, thinking I was an escaped mental patient from down the road.) 

New Job has been comfortable. Other people complain, but since I’m always cold, I’m always A-OK. Righty-oh! Until today. And first, heat makes you a little uncomfortable. You start to notice things more. Like how uncomfortable your chair is. And how some people do not look good until fluorescent lighting. Then it starts to make you sleepy. Usually right after a big lunch. And then by mid-afternoon, when you’ve sweat through your $12 New York and Company T-shirt, you get a little fucking cranky. Because someone turn the damn A/C on for fuck’s sake!!! (That should have been in all CAPS! It was YELLING in my head. But I didn’t want to scare you.) (It’s the heat. It makes me cranky.) (I’m better now. I’m so tired I can only get mad for like a sentence’s worth.)

On top of this, I’ve gone from bored to insane-crazy-busy in .00006 seconds. I am now Girl Who Does Everything For Conference Next Week. (And also Girl Who Tells It Like It Is) (Can you tell I’m reading  a Harry Potter book right now? So that I’m all set for the final installment?) Anyway, doing everything for conference is fine. But that’s just one part of my job. And other part of job has things for me to do, seeing as I was out of the office all last week! And I have no room for those boxes! Me = small cube! Durr!

So now I have to go to bed. Because thankfully I installed my window A/C unit yesterday. So I can cool off already. And I’m totally going to set it to the “Nipples That Can Cut Glass” setting.

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, General, Rants & Rants, Worky Work | 8 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on June 11, 2007

I have the most awesomest friends ever!

After getting home from the longest sales conference ever, after having a not so good ending on the whole thing, and Jesus Christ it didn’t even start well, I came home to a package. (And who doesn’t love mail? Of the non-billular kind?)

I initially thought it was my used book I ordered off Amazon. And since I was carrying enough luggage and bags for a small family to use to travel to Peru. For eight months. I had no time to take notice. All energy was focused on getting everything up three flights of stairs in one goddamn trip! (I’m exhausted just thinking about it.)

When I finally dropped all the family’s luggage, I opened said package. Only because I saw another envelope that was clearly holding my book so what was this? An extra box? A present? Anthrax?

When I opened it, I read the receipt, telling me it was from Amber. (Who, if I actually could remember anything, asked for my address so I knew something was coming.) (And maybe if I had looked at the return address or something. But fuck, after 8 days of drinking, logical thinking goes out the window.) (What’s your excuse every other time?) (Shut up, self!)

And here is what I received (You’re so NEVER going to guess, so don’t even bother):

It’s a folder. With a spinny thing that looks like a piece of bacon. For which I will use to make all life’s important decisions.

For instance, tonight while cooking dinner I was unsure of the recipe and thought “What Would Bacon Do?” Bacon said “Raise Cholesterol” so I added lard to my pasta.

I later debated about actually changing the cats’ litter box. And pondered, “What Would Bacon Do?” Bacon said “Hang Out With Hash Browns” and so I went to the diner across the street.

This is by far the best gift I have ever gotten. Apparently all my talk of bacon in these posts (even though Adam Levine never got the hint and came over for a sammich. Fucktard.) got Amber to thinking. I’m not sure how one goes about finding bacon folders, I’m guessing Google probably helps in that effort.

It’s actually from a company called Archie McPhee, which has a lot of bacon stuff. And some other weird shit. And I’m so getting my mom the bacon wallet for her birthday!

And now my life is complete. All those years that I had no guide for big, life-changing decisions. Now? No more. I’m thinking it’s about time to post this motherfucker. But WWBD?

Spit Hot Grease.

Nuff said.

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, General | 10 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on June 10, 2007

First off, I’d like to say thanks to everyone for the nice comments (not Rich) about my job thingy. Y’all are right and I’m giving them Work KJ. They aren’t worthy of anything more. I think things are fine. I may tend to overreact. But like my mom pointed out, who wouldn’t after what I went through with the consulting place and getting fired for a blog. Seriously, nothing shocks me anymore. I don’t put anything past anyone.

Secondly, I’d like to give the first blog welcome to a new addition to The Jens’ family. She gave birth to a little boy named Casey on Friday evening. Congrats to The Jens and her family! He’s a very lucky little guy! And super cute!

Thirdly, I have not really left the house all weekend. I got a pizza on Saturday night for dinner and had to walk a block to pick it up. And today I did a little grocery shopping. That’s it. And that is fine. (I also put my window air conditioner in. Don’t get me started on that.)

I’d have left the house more except for the fact that I was sleeping for like 80% of those hours. (When not watching the Game Show Network. People I need 2 others to join me as contestants on Chain Reaction. I would school those fools!) The conference out in the ‘burbs last week really wore me down. It was long days with few breaks. And then since we’re the ones putting it on, we don’t get much of a break in the evening before we have to head to the activity for the night or just eat to give us energy. You know to keep going. And to soak up the wine.

Now, of course I could have gone to bed at a reasonable time each night. Could being the key word. But I am Company Girl. And need to socialize and be a good host to sales managers. Although, I’m sure this didn’t mean drinking a case of wine each night. But hey, what can you do?

It was very fun. The first official night we went bowling. There was a small bowling alley on site and we rented it out. There were only about 5 lanes, so I ended up sitting out the first game. I hung around behind a few of the guys and just chit-chatted and played a perfect corporate host. (Read: drinking beers and going to the bar.)

When I finally got around to playing, I had like my best game of bowling ever. I bowled a 132. Seriously, I bowl for beer and good times. Not to break 100. Otherwise I’d always be disappointed.

But I happened to mention to these guys that I took bowling in gym class in high school. (Since my high school was right around the corner from the hotel. Which I pointed out 483 times.) (Yes, apparently I went to an affluent high school. Which is weird, since we were not affluent.) And I told them the one piece of knowledge I remember: “Shake hands with the pins.”

I know what you’re thinking? “What the fuck? How drunk is she right now?”

Hang with me kids. For Average Joe bowler, you have to throw it straight, right down the middle at the front pin to get them all down. So when you release the ball, you need to shake hands with that 10 pin (or is it the 1 pin?) Any twisting of your wrist will send that ball whichever way you turned your wrist towards. And it’s usually towards the gutter.

Now, like I said, a 132 is like the best I’ve ever done. But shaking hands with the pins works. According to Mr. Bergen. (Also in this gym class was golf and fencing. And then second semester was cross county skiing, archery and badminton. If you’re going to make gym mandatory, at least get to do fun shit, right?) (Again, high school not in ghetto.)

After telling all the guys this “wisdom” they actually used it. And were shocked as shit that it worked. (HA!) Which then earned me the nickname Bowling School. Or B.S. for short. Seriously. These 3 guys called me Bowling School all week. It was pretty funny.

And then I proceeded to drink 11 beers and got a 69 in the second game. (Heh heh.) The students became the teachers and they wiped the floor with me. And I will be known as Bowling School forever more.

Yet another nickname to add to the list. I can think of a lot worse.

By the end of the conference I ended up drinking for 8 days straight and getting about 4 hours of sleep a night. (No, it was not an 8-day conference. But add the weekend into a whole week and viola! Eight days straight.) And having a bad case of the head bobs during most of the presentations. (Which? Really good when you know nothing about the company. Asshat.)

And also? Didn’t watch any TV and wasn’t allowed to read the paper during the meetings (boo) so I was all out of touch. Billy Donovan punked the Magic? Paris got out of jail and then went back? The Ocean’s 13 cast came to a premiere in CHICAGO?? And I didn’t find out about it until like 2 hours before? WTF? Conferences blow. If it wasn’t for free booze, I would not like them. One. Bit.

So yeah, that would explain why I slept for about 16 hours on Saturday. Because you know what? I have to do it all over again next week. Maybe I’ll have learned my lesson and not sustain on red wine and prime rib. With a few hotel cookies thrown in. (Why is it that my pants don’t fit?)

But, probably not. That’s not Bowling School’s way.

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, General, Hooch Hilarity, Worky Work | 2 Comments »
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