Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on April 30, 2007

Sometimes I worry that I might possibly overshare a little on here. But I figure, it’s no different than me in normal life. I’m a open book. I tell people everything.

(OK, fine, maybe I didn’t tell work people about the blog. But that’s because I wanted to call Tom Brokaw a pompous ass as much as possible. Because, well, he’s a pompous ass. And I’m sure a lot of people don’t necessarily disagree.) (And now it’s fun to do because I know they’re checking the site. And they can’t. Do. Anything. About. It.)

But otherwise, I’m pretty open. Mostly because I can’t lie. And can’t really keep secrets. And I like to gossip. And what’s the fun of you being the only one knowing something?

This post might cross that line just a little. So I’m throwing out the disclaimer. Especially to the guys. Because I’m going to be talking about boobs. On second thought, you might want to keep reading.

At the end of March (oddly, the day before all this blog shit went down), I went to the lady doctor for the annual check-up of my lady parts. And she found a small lump in my breast. (I’m fine.) She wasn’t too concerned about it, but better to be safe than sorry in these days. There are too many people who know this all too well. (If you’re so inclined, you can donate some money to The Pink Ladies and their walk this weekend in DC. And Amalah dyes her hair if they get to $10,000. Any color the Internet says! That’s worth $20. Plus you can help kick cancer in the balls.)

Last Friday I had a scheduled ultrasound just to check it out and make sure it was indeed nothing. (It is.) And also experienced my first mammogram. And it’s just like having your boob in a vice. Everything you’ve heard about it is true. And not in a good way like everything you hear about ice cream is true.

Today, I had a follow-up appointment with a breast specialist just to make sure no further steps were needed. So basically, in the last few days, I’ve had a lot of people grabbing and poking and squishing my boob. And NOT in the way we would like. And by WE, I mean me and the girls.

At the appointment this morning, I was sitting in the room waiting for the lady doctor to come in. I try to always see lady doctors, especially when it comes to the lady parts. Mostly because, dude, if you don’t have the parts, how the hell do you know what I’m feeling? Books can’t teach you everything about the va-jay-jay.

I also try and see lady doctors because really, I don’t need a hot man touching the lady parts. At least at a doctor’s appointment. That would be all kinds of awkward.

(Side note, my mom had a little crush on her OB/GYN that delivered all three of us. And that still creeps me out.)

So, right, this morning. Sitting in the little room. With the gown. Open in the front. I’m getting far too comfortable flashing doctors my bazooms. The door opens and I think it’s going to be the doctor. It’s not. It’s an assistant. A resident maybe? Oh and did I mention he was a man? Yep. And he just wasn’t a man. He was a smoking hot man. He looked a lot like this:

Except without the unibrow, a little lighter skinned, and much taller and leaner. So basically, a man you’d want touching your lady parts. But not in the sterilized confines of a doctor’s office.

(Oh, and he was young and an excellent dresser!) (And did I mention yumilicious?) (And I almost asked him if anyone ever told him he looked like Tiki Barber to impress him with my sports knowledge. And then I thought “we don’t need to add any more levels of awkwardness to this situation.”)

First thought: He’s just here to help. He’ll just get my medical history and all that and be on his way to get lady doctor to do the touchy touchy.

Second thought: Maybe I should have showered this morning and done my hair. And would it kill you to put some make-up on? Unemployed doesn’t mean homeless, dumbass.

Third thought: I really hope I put deodorant on.

It was fine. He was very professional.

And I’m fine. I got the all clear, so yeah. Relief is spelled T-I-K-I.

Also? This is why I have the lady doctor for the lady parts.

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, General | 12 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on April 29, 2007

I have nothing to say. But I should post. So I thought “Hmmm…” (yes, I thought Hmmmm…) “I’ll write about the weekend. Oh, and am so clever, will write title as what you call weekend in Spanish.”

What the fuck is weekend in Spanish? I know it translates to End of the Weekend (those Spanish speakers are so gosh darn clever.) But I’m drawing a blank as to what that exactly translates to.

Sabado Gigante? No. That’s Giant Saturday. Or Big Saturday. Whatever. It’s some show on Univision that I claimed to watch in high school Spanish class for homework. (Actually, I’m so fucking lazy that since we had to watch 30 minutes of Spanish television a week and translate, I’d watch 30 minutes of a soccer game. My essay was all “green grass, soccer players, Gooooooooaaaaaaaaallllllll!” Seriously.)

Anyway, as you can see, my weekend was all kinds of exciting. No, really.

Actually, I got my hair did on Saturday. I’d take photos, because it’s super cute, but you know how when you try to do your hair the first day after getting it done, it ends up all flat and nasty? No? Just me then? Well, anyway, it’s all flat and not looking super cute. So photos to come. But it’s muy cute-o.

(Why can’t I remember any Spanish? I took like 7 fucking years of the damn language. What is pretty?)

(Durr. BONITA! That I actually should know. Since it was Mr. Weiner’s award in marching band. Bow-neeeeeett-aaaahhh!)

EL FIN DE LA SEMANA!!!!! I knew I’d remember it. Must be all the beer I consumed tonight.

So, on with my fin de la semana. Saturday, hair. And I finally, FINALLY saw Borat. I rented it on pay-per-view. And boy howdy, am I glad I did. I really liked it. High-larious.

Today, it was summer in Chicago. It was in the 80s and sunny and that means any non-lazy person should get their non-lazy ass outside to enjoy the weather. FINE! I sat on my back porch in the sun, sunnin’ if you will, reading my book, readin’ if you will. I was out there for like almost 4 hours. And have the tan line to prove it!

Again, I’d take the photos. But bad hair. No makeup. Bad tan lines.

And then, I went to dinner. Because Kirk and Teri were in town! Yay! Beer! (Hi Matty!)

It was very low key, seeing as it was Sunday and all. And Kirk is here to work so he has to get up early tomorrow. Unlike Teri and I. We rule.

The highlight was when we were sitting at the bar and Kirk says to me, he says, “do you have a pen?” And I says “what did you always teach me? Every good PR person always has a pen on their person.”

OK, I mostly have a pen in my purse/bag to write things down to blog about. But it doesn’t matter. Still ingrained in my brain.

And if my weekend couldn’t get any better, I have some feline follies for you! I know! Ex. Citing!

So I bought the cats a cat bed. (Yes, I’m unemployed and not bringing in a steady income. This is not for you to judge, bitches.) Because I have hardwood floors all throughout the apartment (jealous, much?) (probably not if you live in the City because everyone has hardwood floors) and the one little rug I have in the kitchen, the cats are always sleeping on. (Probably would have been a better investment to purchase an area rug. But, bygones.)

And me, being the best cat owner ever was all, “I’ll get them a bed to sleep in. Keep those fuckers off my bed and the couch. Am genius.”

Here it is:

Me does hearted new bed

It matches my couch. See? Awesome.

UR Silly Bed Done Never Git Us Off Couch

Anyway, when I brought said bed (hee!) home, these cats wanted nothing to do with it. They hissed at it. Hissed! And I thought “Hmmm…that’s $15 down the drain. But at least it matches the day-core.”

An hour later, they lurved the new bed. And were fighting over it. And one point, Kitty Kitty (pictured above, minding her own biznass in the bed) was sleeping. Simba came over and started licking her. I thought “Awww…how cute, and also weird.”

But then! Then! Simba bit her! On the back! Like right at the spot that was all awkward and shit for her to reach and bite back. And he kept biting! And she kept flailing. Until she jumped out of the bed.

And then he calmly marched his happy ass into the bed and called it his own.

This is why I need to get a new job. Or starting walking the street. Something.

But I must go now. It is storming. And this computer, is all right up next to a window. And I’m pretty sure the scary lightning is going to jump right through and electrocute my ass.

Tomorrow: Photos of hair. And maybe tan line. But? Probably not. That would require showering and trying to do new do. Again. And we’re lucky if I change out of the PJs.

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, General | 6 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on April 25, 2007

Or, I Have No Ideas For A Post So I’m Going To Combine Random Things Together And Viola! A Post.

• Say what you will about American Idol, but this whole Idol Gives Back thing was really well done. This season they’ve had some A-list celebrities on there (Gwen Stefani, Jennifer Lopez (Hey! I like her! She can’t sing, but that’s neither here nor there. Maid in Manhattan is a quality picture.), and maybe some others) I’ve lost a little respect for those people this year for selling out and trying to make a quick buck. I mean, it’s smart, but come on! If Sir Paul McCartney isn’t selling out, neither should any of you!
• But tonight they had a lot of celebrities join together to make this an event to remember. A loooong two-hour event to remember, but nonetheless. On the singing part of it on Tuesday, all the votes meant money raised to end poverty in Africa and here in the US. There were over 70 million votes on Tuesday night. (I even voted 20 times.) (It was Blake, to answer your next question.) (Is it bad that I have a not-so-secret crush on him? Yum.)
• So they had some clips and all these great artists singing and taking donations and raising a whole hell of a lot of money. It was really over the top. In the best way possible. Entertaining. And tugged on the heart strings. At the end of the show here in the Midwest and on the East Coast, they had raised more than $30 million. Again, Idol may be the downfall of American society as we know it, but that is just awesome. Kudos to you Fox.
• If you want to donate, you can go here. If Ellen DeGeneres can give $100,000, I think you can spare $10.
• I probably could have made that a whole post, huh? Am stoopid.
• I am addicted to sugar-free Kool-Aid. Siriously. I mean, I’m averaging about a pitcher a day. I’m tired of water and all it’s bland, no-flavor ass. Kool-Aid is where it is at. In the words of the famous Kool-Aid Man, Oh Yeah!
• It’s Huxta-palooza on Nick at Nite. Officially. Awesome. It’s Vanessa’s favorite episodes. I’m crossing my fingers for that one where they played the drinking game and made Rudy pretend-drink.
• I watch entirely way too many reality TV shows. Not that I’m going to change, but why am I still watching the Real World? It’s been on like 20 seasons or more. You shouldn’t be able to watch when you are too old to even be on it. At least this season the ASU dude (Alex) has showed we’re not all anorexic (Paula) crazy people (Wes).
• People, if you don’t watch Lost, you need to get on it. Tonight’s episode? Blown away. No survivors? Holy. Fucking. Shit!
• I went running today. Me! Running! I never talk about that! And since this site was down for almost three weeks because certain people get way too offended because you’re new company name is stupid, I will let you know that this was pretty much the first attempt at running since the Shuffle. Which was at the end of March. Am lazy. Do you understand now?
• Actually, I had a nagging cold for about 3 weeks. Probably since I wasn’t getting any sleep. Since I was losing my job. Over a blog.
• So my one attempt to run during that period ended up being a lot of walking. And a lot of wheezing. And then I took the bus back home.
• OK, now I’m just making shit up.
• Last Friday, I went for a leisurely jog. Because let’s be honest. Snails run faster than me. But it’s still running. Still activity! That “jog” ended up in a 4-mile walk because it felt like Fat Bastard was sitting on my chest.
• Today, though. Today. I was back to normal. Obviously not in peak running form like before (Ha!) but still, I went 4 miles and I felt good. There was some walking in between, but overall? Good.
• There’s the 10-mile race at the end of May I’m supposed to run. Bad.
• While I was running, minding my own biznass, rocking out to Boy George, I ran jogged walked slowly past this really old woman. She was lopsided. And it wasn’t from carrying too many groceries on one side. I may have been staring. But at my lightening speed, it wouldn’t have been for too long. As I passed, she yelled something at me. Boy George was too loud, so I didn’t quite get it.
• I spent the entire rest of the run wondering what this crotchety old woman yelled at me.
• Was there something on my face?
• Was I really naked?
• Was she mad I was wearing white pants in April?
• Does she hate Boy George?
• I was wearing my sweatshirt from Stuffy Ass Think I’m The Most Important People Ever Consulting Company. Does she hate the CEO too?
• Did she not know I was rooting for Martha, the short, old lady on Card Sharks today? I’ve got mad props for the short, old, crazy ladies, yo.
• And then I realized I was at Kimball and wasn’t sure it was the best neighborhood to be running in. So I focused on not getting shot. Or pulled into an alley.
• Dudes, Soap Net rules. Re-runs of The O.C. and 90210. Today’s was the one where Kelly got shot in the airport parking lot. Classic. Simply a classic.
• I’ve gotten so stupid that if I think of something to blog, I’ve resorted to sending myself text messages. And then finding them weeks later. Because what? I’m going to reply to myself? Right.
• I haven’t gotten a lot of comments this week. And that makes me all self-conscious. Am I not funny? Have I turned into bitter, old unemployed girl that can talk about nothing more than “unemployment sucks. Is boring” or “my cats do funny things during the day” or “running! It’s more than just right, left, right, left!”?

Must go now. I’m jonesing for Kool-Aid. If I go too long, that weird pitcher dude crashes through the wall. And that ain’t cheap to fix, bitches.

Oh Yeah!

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, General | 17 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on April 24, 2007

I don’t know if I’ve ever had that distinct feeling of deja vu. I’ve never had that feeling just grab you by the innards and shake you to the core like “I’ve been here/done this before.” And I’m not sure it really exists. I mean isn’t it only possible if you’re Bill Murray? Or in Woodstock? Or Taye Diggs on that show that lasted two episodes?

Well today I had two interviews. And it’s like I went back in time to last fall because it is happening all over again. More interviews! More talking about myself! (Which, isn’t much of a stretch!) More selling myself! For. Sale. I will say, this time around is going far more smoothly. And I’m all for that because swiftness would be a good thing this time.

From March to June of 2005, before I got my job in mulch, I had plenty of interviews. A lot of them were with headhunters. But since I hadn’t interviewed since college, I was all kinds of rusty. I mean, my interviews in college consisted of talking to my at the time current boss at ASU, shooting the shit with a dude from UCLA during the Pac-10 Track & Field Championships and talking to Kirk about wrestling. I never really interviewed until 10 years after graduating from high school. In sports, you either have the experience or you don’t. And you either get it, or you don’t. And dudes, I get it. Durr.

I remember my first phone interview after getting the boot from the Niners and moving back to Chicago. I was at a loss for words. Me! The talky talky one! But as I did a few more and figured out the “right” answers, I got a lot better. And then POOF! I finally got a job. Pushing dirt.

I started looking for a new job back in July. Again, lots of interviews. Some more bad, bad ones. Like the one I was late for because it took me over an hour to go 5 miles. And the dude says “yeah, I know, I live in far away suburb that has no real straight shot to get to and from and it takes me an hour too.” And I sat there, looked at him, punched him in the face and said “I live five miles away, douchebag. Five!” And walked out of the room.

OK, none of that happened. Well, I didn’t punch him. I did try and stress that 5 miles is close. And apparently with his fancy Director title, he forgot that 5 is less than 40!

After that, I flubbed the whole interview. (Durr, again.) And then they asked me to do a hypothetical marketing campaign for people who eat cat litter and how would I bring them in to get checked out by a doctor to make sure they weren’t going to die. My answer? “People are dumb and if they want to eat cat litter, let them.” And I seriously crawled under her desk and asked her to tell me when my half hour was up.

I never heard back from them. Not even the customary “we couldn’t want anyone less” kiss off letter.

That was a bad one. The worst one. Didn’t help that I was hung over because we had our company outing the day before. On a booze cruise. Guess who was in charge of planning that? Oh, and we went to rooftop to watch a Cubs game the year before. Whoever planned those is a fucking genius. (And maybe a tad bit of an alcoholic.)

I think most people have a good idea in an interview if they’re going to at least get a call back. I mean, you never know who you’re up against. You could be up against some idiot savant who got their MBA at age 16. You never know. But you know how well you’ve done. And you can only do your best. (Gag.)

I’ve never had a kick-ass interview and not gotten the job. And now, this will happen to me. And it’s too late to take it back. I’ve been thinking it since this afternoon.

Today’s interviews went really well. I had two. I rule. The morning interview was a second interview. It’s for a job I REALLY want. I’m perfect for it. It’s like everything I’m good at all rolled into one role. And I feel really good about the interviews. I met with four different people. Everyone was awesome and nice. Me = perfect fit. And I was there for almost 3 hours! Good, right?

But then, they still have more people to interview. Enter Idiot Savant, stage left.

This afternoon I had another interview downtown for a different position. Again, it would be a great job for me. I’m totally qualified for it. And it too went really well. It’s some executive assistant duties plus some PR. And they want someone who can handle many tasks, a multi-tasker, if you will. They want Master of All, which it happens to say on my resume.

But again, more people to interview. Still would have to come back in for a second interview. And for reals? Being unemployed just gives you way too much fucking time to sit around and think about it. And nitpick everything you said. And what you forgot to say. And what you should have not said and just kept deep in the recesses of your crazy, messed up head.

And a lot of it is the needing of the swiftness. The requirement, really. The unemployment will help for a bit. But it’s not going to pay all the bills for an extended period of time. Which is fine, because I can go get a part-time job or a temp job if need be. I’m not above that. (Well, I am, but mama needs to pay the rent.) It just has to be the right position that pays more than unemployment per week or really, what is the point?

The point is that I can easily get very used to this not working thing. And I’m afraid of getting even lazier. (Shut up. It’s possible!)

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, General, Job Search | 2 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on April 23, 2007

I would like to preface this with the fact that I do, in fact, really like spring. (and get paid by the word every time I say fact.) If I hadn’t put on about 20 pounds this “winter” I would be liking it a whole lot more. Oh, and if I had a job.

So every few months in the lovely city of Chicago, the side streets get a cleaning. I can’t tell you the last time it happened. It was sometime in the fall. They do it right about the time that all the leaves have fallen off of the trees and are clogging the gutters. Chicago – We Are A Clean City.

I remember the last time they did it. Only because I got an effing parking ticket. (More to come on that.)

So what they do, is they pick like an area of this city (this is all one big guess and I’m just telling you what they do in my neck of the woods. Most people I know that live in the city park in a garage so they are all lucky SOBs.) They do a few blocks at a time. But being the geniuses that they are, those geniuses that run my fair city, they’ll only close one side of the street at a time. (Smrt.)

So they usually give plenty of notice. They tie these orange signs to trees and light posts, etc. telling you “No Parking MONDAY 9 AM to 3 PM THIS side of the street.”

Back with the mulch job, it didn’t matter. I was always gone and off the street well before 9 AM. (Except for this one time. Which, yes, I will get to.) So I paid these signs no mind. In paying no mind, mind you, I didn’t notice the days of the week printed there. Me, being the dumbass that I am, just noticed “orange sign. No parking.”

On this one occasion (see? SEE? I told you’d I’d get there) I was coming home from work (maybe? I have no idea where I was coming back from. A trip? Happy hour?) and it was later than normal (book club, maybe?) and I saw all the orange signs. I drove a good six-block radius (OK, two-block) and these orange signs? They were everywhere! Every block! Both sides of the street! What the FUCK was I going to do? On top of all the orange signs, there was no parking. What the fuck were all these other people going to do?

This is how I remember it was later than normal. Because I remember I didn’t want to have to venture too far out because of the walk by myself in the dark and the side streets with the trees and the lack of ample lighting. (Or it was the laziness.) I also remember that I was pissed because I knew I was going to be gone (or off or not home?) the next day so I wasn’t going to be gone by 9 AM.

So I just parked. And I got a ticket. (Bastards!)

I noticed as I went to my car the next day (obviously I was home. And am now even amazed at my laziness at not just getting up at 8:55 AM and moving the damn car) that I had the ticket. The $50 parking ticket. (The Geniuses are raping us! Raping! Us!)

This was when I also noticed that the sign on the other side of the street said a different day. Altogether! (Am dumbass! Shouldn’t have a license!)

I was actually worried about these things with this most recent job. Because I take took the train, and am not usually parked on the street in front of my place. So how the hell would I know what day they were street cleaning? But whew. Thank God I got fired and am all over that! (Whew is right!)

I noticed the signs late last week. My car was parked on the MONDAY side. So I set my alarm for 8:55 AM (don’t judge me people! I am weary from all the unemployment. And the inactivity.) I got up and went to move my car. With about 1,000 other people from the neighborhood. There was no parking to be found. Anywhere! Within a two-block radius! Oh the horror! And the walking!

I finally found one about 4 blocks away. And therefore, I have walked over a mile today, my friends, because 4 blocks is 1/2 mile. Because I had to go get my car after 3 PM to move it back closer. I mean, come on.

No, I actually went grocery shopping. So there. Walking. AND stairs.

I am active hear me roar. Or groan.

PLEAZ GIT A JOB. WE SIC OF U AT HOME.

(If you have never checked out this site. You’re missing out.)

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, General, Rants & Rants | 4 Comments »
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