Just Laying Around

So, what's the deal with the winnings for tipping off a crime? The reward money. Where does that money come from? How is it that you could win $100,000 being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Magic. Ridiculous. Why hasn't anyone started a company invested in putting people in the absolute worst positions to not only rip off the government, but to load up for not doing a f'n' thing (insert any company, federal institute, entertainment job, etc). Is this "reward" money just laying around in a petty cash box or tip jar? It just seems that money kind of comes out of nowhere for witnesses of crimes. I'm sure it's tax dollars, but how do they gage how many people they will need to pay for the possible lies they will tell or not as they case may be. bah. Don't try to explain it to me, I really don't want to know.

"Tom, I'd like for you to pal around with this guy Lenny, who has a history of mental illness and we believe is planning to mail letters with baking soda, used in place of a toxic substance of course, to over 50 banks. We are of the assumption that he is somewhere in Texas. Good luck."

You are a winner!

Please Please Me Beatles IPod

For some of you know that I was the unfortunate victim of car thievary this past week end. It was a loss that I was able to accept and walk away from until less than 24 hours later I realized what I had left in the car: about 80% of my music collection including my ENTIRE Beatles collection. For the past 20 years, I have had a tiny love affair with the Beatles, specifically John Lennon. When I realized the loss, my heart slid down my esophagus and out of my feet towards the front door. I gathered it back up and explained that things can be replaced and to stop believing that rich people get the breaks because they can easily replace a 20 year collection of music (well, except those wicked 90's imports from Japan - Farwell Harry Connick, Jr.'s "Greatest Hits"). Here is a plead for someone to purchase the limited edition Beatles IPod and graciously give it to me. PLEASE!!! Pretty Please Please Me with the box set that I would gladly burn on my own since I have iTunes on my computer, but have never bought or downloaded music courtesy of Apple. If only you would. If only YOU, random generous, amazing, and wonderful individual could be so helpful and loving to gladly purchase the iPod for a wonderfully dedicated Beatles fan and terrific individual. The sheer joy and appreciation YOU could receive from me just by sacrificing less than a grand on little ol' me is up to you. Are you out there, kind, wonderful friend of the Beatles with money to spare, it's me, Kathleen, the one that will promise you a friendship of mountains and possibly a payment plan to get that cash back to you if you really want me to pay for it. There are only 2500! so please pick it up fast and your Karma will be good for life! Much obliged.

The New Petroleum

Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen to the world disclosure of the New Petroleum. It's called corn syrup. Just Google the two things together with no semi-colon, etc. and you'll find quite a few articles and blogs give examples of why the two are deadly in excess and are causing our country to fall apart. Greed helps and it led to both of these problems. Plastic can be used in place of everything non-edible and corn syrup can be added to damn near anything edible to make it taste "better" or sweet. Roughly two years ago I was overcome with a most annoying rash and not one doctor could figure out its root. Over the next two years on my own I would discover yeast and corn syrup to be the main culprits of the reactions, but I still question some of the wheat gluten products that may or may not list them. I've moved my diet to mostly organic foods now and I am trying desperately to not overeat and/or waste this expensive ass food. Gas is something I only get once a month as I take the train and bus to and from work and other times when parking gives me an ulcer. It just goes to show you that it is always a struggle for the lower incomed folks. If I didn't have a car payment, I'd be a little all right, but I also shouldn't have the debt I do and yet I still will put myself in the hole for a trip to the grocery store. Having to bring my lunch to work is difficult because I am lazy and I get bored easily. The days get harder to swallow when all you want to do is eat a juicy delicious hamburger at UFoodGrille, but you is overdrawn in yo' checkin' account and yo' ass only gots $2 in yo' pockit. And you know this, man.

Roller Derby Yeehah!

The legs right at the hip joint are more sore than I remember them ever being even after playing tennis and doing suicides, etc. The knees are trippin' out, too, which is expected, sad to say. Not too bad, but kind of funny that today's pain came just about two hours after we stopped instead of gracefully reminding me tomorrow morning while I attempt to get out of bed. The last time that happened was when I participated in a three day intensive stage combat workshop in '05. I was positive my legs were gonna collapse on the way to the train after only the first day. The burning. JC. Today is not even close to that pain because our health and leg muscles are pretty ok. Just chubby. Conventional gyms are not what I look for in a workout.

My buddy JP and three other skater/punk chicks picked me up and we drove what seemed like ever out to Lombard (a 'burb of Chicago) to the roller rink since Chicago doesn't have any rinks. Sad. The group that hosted tonight's open skate were the Derby Lite team. Super group of gals. It's a commitment, but it's also way fun and different. I'm gonna do it. I bought some damn skates. I also got a lot of encouragement and the pain I feel now is something that will certainly go away with continued efforts and perseverance. And the fact that I bought the daggone skates!!! Wha??? Well, as the 15 year old skates that I was driving started to liquefy and drop shrapnel on the rink endangering everyone, we figured while we were there might as well get some new parts. It turned into buying skates. I cannot express the sheer joy I felt skating again. It was absolutely delightful. I was good, too. It felt so good to put on those skates and find a little confidence I used to have when it was three times a week to the rink in junior high and high school. Great day. Tomorrow I may feel like the 'floor of a taxi cab', but it will have been very worth the continued grunting.

Cancer Breast Poop

About a month ago I had the pleasure of greeting a new doctor with my legs spread. i.e. This is the 5th doctor in my series of doctors since I graduated college that I've met for the first time on my annual pap visit. HELLO \_/!!!! That sad symbol looks nothing like my vagina. Oh, my bad, I meant to say vajayjay. What-ev. Well, during this visit I was a little stressed about the move, having fallen off the smoking wagon for a few weeks (I'm clean again for good), and just the current situation of our world in general. My doc found a lump. Great. The next day, when my mom was to be in town, she was able to go with me to the hospital to get a mammogram and ultrasound. Good fun! I have to tell you, I was pretty calm for what could await me in the viewing room. I've never sat in a room half nekked, waiting for what felt like an eternity for a stranger to tell me I could leave the room. That was awkward and somewhat alarming, but I just chalked it up to routine. I was given clear instructions that my doctor was the only one that could read the results to me. Turns out my doctor was on vacation. I didn't even bother. I waited until after the Labor Day holiday, but before I could question anything, I received a form letter that explained all is clear and that I should get a regular mammogram when I turn 40. Wow. A form letter? I take the good news. Last week, my mother informs me (after she repeatedly asks if I am sitting down) that my sister has breast cancer. Folks, it is the most amazing thing to be cleared of any health disasters, but it does a disservice to our health when our loved ones are touched with scary illnesses especially a highly ironic diagnosis. My sister has some serious treatment coming her way as it is an aggressive strain of breast cancer, but her doctor is of Johns Hopkins and with the advancement of technology these days, I feel she will have the best chance at recovery and lifelong remission. This is optimism. The level of stress in her life, again, I believe, directly results in this heinous infection in her body. Folks, smoke weed, don't marry the hot navy guy until you know he gives a shit about real things, and when you have kids teach them how not to be selfish, superficial, and how to pick up after themselves. It goes beyond that fo' sho', but in my near numb reaction to my own sister's predicament, I am reminded of just how vulnerable we are and for life to turn on us is just a shame.

I consider myself a veteran of cancer interactions: My Godmother died of lung cancer in 1989, my best friend died of cervical cancer at 25 in 2002, a once good friend had Hodgkins twice, a very dear friend had a lump removed from her breast, we're not sure what my mom's mother and/or sister lost their lives from (but we think it may have been Cancer), and let's not count how many of my friends' parents/family members that have and are dealing with cancer (if not the lasting effects of post treatment). Eat organic, breathe, and be grateful for the life you have right now, please.

Home Internet Eludes Me

As the Comcast stiffs, vacates, lies, steals, and tinkers with our lives and our ability to keep abreast of the technoligical world's constant battle, I haven't blogged in two months. Like there is anyone reading this that really cares, but I do. Just to complain about them for another few more minutes to keep you up to speed as to why I still don't have home internet service. Prior to moving at the end of Aug, I had called Comcast to set up a time slot for transfer of service. Three weeks. They had no appointments for 3 weeks. Oh, ok. I can kind of understand the situation for it to the "busiest" moving weekend of the year (?). They were informative to tell me to bring all of my equipment with my move, so that it can be hooked up at the new place and no charges will be added. Ok, so I had a family emergency last week and had to cancel my appt for Sat 9.13, but there was no chance for getting a tech out for the once offered 4-7pm slot during the week. Comcast had no other options even as I asked if there were any 4-7pm appts for Oct and the rep informed me that there were no appts for that time slot available. Why were we still talking about it? Why did she mention the option? I dunno, so instead of having to take yet another day off from my 9-5 job, I am forced to give up another Sat for them to decide whenever they want during some kind of window. I bet you that I could have easily just hooked the damn junk up myself with some basic information considering the prior tenants had the same setup. Comcast could save money if they took advantage of their "smart" users. They could have saved a day of wages for one tech, not to mention his gas and mileage. Am I retarded for wanting to save Comcast time, money, and energy? When will Comcast add an option on their auto attendant that allows their triple play customers to alert them that all three services are down without having to talk to three different representatives? When will Comcast get better customer service and stop treating their smart users like retards? Anyone? Anyone?

Step Away From the Magazines

Recovering chronic People mag buyer. I couldn't subscribe because that would just prove my weakness, so I just kept buying it at newsstand cost. Tard. Upon moving to Chicago, with our new credit card, I got swindled into buying $500 in magazine subscriptions (Rolling Stone, Interview, ESPN, Entertainment Weekly, Reader's Digest, Good Housekeeping{?!!}, Vanity Fair, DETAILS and a sundry of others related to initial credit card purchase and not). Never again. The "mag" company just took their monthly subscription cost out of the cc account. The obsession of checking the balance of money related accounts hadn't been routine as they are today. I will check the same account sometimes three times just to see if anything else has cleared, so at the end of the day I can sleep knowing there is a positive balance in the bank. A friend of mine recently revealed her choice to rarely speak of money and how much she makes or discuss anyone's financial situation. I am however the complete opposite and it did not used to be that way, but when it is the root of evil (the love of it) and the key to my happiness, seriously, I just can't stop thinking about it. Would never marry for it because that can makes things worse. I would rather be left with $10 at the end of the paycheck than with the idea of uncomfortably large monthly payments because it did not get paid last month so-we's-got-to-double-up-this-month type of thing. It is an ebb and flow. I don't keep a check book and that is one key to my retardation. I've tried, lord knows I have tried, but numbers make me anxious and I tend to run from having to use them, even though I am actually quite good in math and have been since childhood. Nerd-a-lert. Conditioned reflex to run from because my 7th grade, "Superior Math" class teacher, Ms. Durham, was such a freak. She had the driest sense of humor and it made me drift. With the most deadpan of delivery, she shared this joke, "My plant is having babies, and you can't watch." Truly not my type of classroom environment, but most educational for the spirit and comical in retrospect. Never again would I like math.

One of the many projects I must undertake in the next few weeks is letting go of magazines. F'n magazines. I have piles of f'n magazines and the task is daunting. Hording is definitely something I fear and I'm seeing a good basis here with the accumulation of magazines. Particularly because I don't read them right away and think miraculously I will make time to read all of them. I used to, but I read so much at work that I get annoyed when I have to do it off the clock. Whatever. These piles won't whittle down themselves and yet I keep finding magazines that have Russell Crowe involved which looks like a major issue. Put the magazines in the recycle bin. Put the mag-a-zine in...the...recycle...bin...