There's Something Weird About That Kate Girl . . . (Tomorrow Is Another Day...)

You know those weeks, where you have every intention of being totally awesome . . . and then you get going and you realize the rest of the world isn't cooperating? Hi, I'm Kate from Walking Kateastrophe and welcome to my life. This post was SUPPOSED to be written and published last night. The world didn't check my schedule before double booking me for a night of CRAZY. Why I even use Outlook is be-YOND me. World, please start cooperating with my plans. Thanks.

Naturally, when Angela so sweetly asked me to be a guest blogger while she was traipsing about Italia (um, anyone besides me sitting at their desk HATING HER RIGHT NOW?!?! Thought so.) my brain went into panic mode. It was a little bit like this:

OH NO! We need people to like us and think we're funny . . . and cool!! Crap, we already used our funniest story when we guest blogged for Molly a while ago. Crap, crap, crap. Um . . .we could talk about the time the Gypsies in Italy stole our identity and my friends all left us to get a new passport in France ALONE while they continued being tourists in Spain. And how we pray that doesn't happen to Angela. Or maybe we could talk about the crazy family. Or the crazy friends. Or how WE CAN'T DECIDE WHAT THE CRAP WE'RE GOING TO WRITE ABOUT.

See, um, my brain is sort of like a twelve year ADHD patient who refuses to take her medication. It's not pretty in there. Anyone who knows me in real life will tell you that's a true statement. Last week, I got an email from my sister telling me she wanted to live in my brain for a while because it would be hella fun . . . in an acid trip sort of way. And I've never touched an illegal drug in my life.

As you can see from the title of my blog, I am sort of a big giant disaster. I dance fairly well, and do so fairly gracefully, and yet I somehow manage to be one of the klutziest humans alive. This one time, in modern dance class, I was supposed to "act out" a leaf in a hurricane, right? (Because when you're in modern dance that's JUST WHAT YOU DO) So I did, and then I thought I'd be all poetic and get to the eye of the storm and collapse due to lack of wind. So I did, right? Then I stood up and all the girls started screaming at me because there was blood trickling down my face because I BANGED MY HEAD ON THE FLOOR AND DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT. Seriously. No idea. I had to go see campus first aid and everything. I spill, I fall, I crash and burn, I accidentally dip ponytails in paint and then turn my head madly to find out where that paint on the wall is coming from. It's just sort of a way of life you get used to when there's nothing you can do about it. Also, it's hereditary because my Mom does it and, as I recently discovered, so does my Grandma. My daughters are doomed.

Um, where was I?

Wanna go ride bikes?

Oh yeah. Blogging. On someone else's blog. Ummmm . . .

One of my favorite stories I like to call "Beerfest 2007." You should probably know that I don't drink beer. The number one reason is that I'm Mormon and that's just not what you do, right? The second reason, and maybe the more relevant is that beer smells like rotten crap. I'm pretty sure at some point scientists are going to come out with a study that proves beer is made from manure and that everyone is going to die of e coli. OK not really but that's what I think. I don't know what it tastes like, but judging from the smell, most of the world is crazy for drinking that nastiness.

SO, I had beer in the trunk of my car once. I had to handle the alcohol for a hospitality suite my company hosts at our trade shows and I was the only one who drove to the trade show in Vegas. When we had leftover beer I was asked to drive it back to Phoenix so it wasn't thrown away and wasted. I didn't have a problem with this until the incident happened.

My car started to smell like beer the morning after I got home from Vegas, so I figured one of the bottles had leaked and I should take the beer out and check. I opened my trunk to discover that an ENTIRE SIX PACK had somehow worked their way open and were now all over the trunk of my car. Isn't it great to think that, had I been pulled over, I might have gotten in trouble for having open alcohol in my car? The Mormon girl who's never ever had a drink. Awesome. Luckily, I didn't get pulled over and the other six pack seemed intact. I decided it was time to get it OUT of my car, so I grabbed it by the handle and lifted it out of the trunk. I hadn't taken two steps towards my garage when the bottom fell out of the cardboard carrying case and ALL SIX GLASS BOTTLES shattered on my feet. My feet that were wearing brand new Michael Kors leather shoes. Naturally, since the bottles gained some momentum on their journey to ruin my shoes, and so when they shattered, they also splattered, and my entire outfit was covered in beer.

I was SO late to work that day and had a huge important meeting and I truly didn't have time to change. So I, being the responsible employee that I am, I used the hose in an attempt to wash some of the beer off my clothes, used paper towels, while driving, to attempt to save my shoes and showed up to work like that. There's nothing like wearing a wet pair of jeans that smell distinctly like Fat Tire. Also, it's pretty classy to show up at work smelling like you just came from a bar. Does wonders for your "good girl" reputation, right? Sheesh.

So there you have it. A little introduction into my insane life. I bet you're really wishing Angela was back right about now. She's so going to regret asking "the crazy girl" to guest post.

Comments

Gee, Kate! You sound like the perfect substitute for Angela. You seem to fit right in with the rest of our family. Sounds like something Angela would have written except for the Mormon part.

Posted by: Old Warrior | April 11, 2008 at 02:13 AM