my sister got lucky
married a yuppie
took him for all he was worth
now she's a swinger
dating a singer
i can't decide which is worse
but not me baby
i've got you to save me
aw, you're so bad
the best thing i ever had
in a world gone mad
yer so bad
my sister's ex husband
can't get no lovin
walks around dog-faced and hurt
now he's got nothin
head in the oven
i can't decide which is worse
but not me baby
i've got you to save me
aw, you're so bad
the best thing i ever had
in a world gone mad
yer so bad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-tom petty and the heartbreakers
I love being a girl and having girl friends.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
my german half...
"i really think that the low selfesteem of girls is the greatest gift that the corporate world and the media have ever made to men, maybe the only gift too. i wonder if any guy in the world would get action if not all the girls would be totally emotioanlly wrecked and neurotic and would hate their bodies.
a women who realized how beautiful she is, that is a real theat to society."
Ladies and gentemen... ICQ and Raphael Köster.
a women who realized how beautiful she is, that is a real theat to society."
Ladies and gentemen... ICQ and Raphael Köster.
regularity.
Just walked into Octane, like I do most days.
Only today I was greeted by 2 baristas with a question/statement:
"So katie... I hear that you have a really funny blog."
Well, what a coincidence... because I just happen to be hilarious.
I actually read over my blog a few nights ago. The whole thing. All 60something angst-filled posts.
I don't love how much I complain. I guess I do because I feel so urgently about change.
Maybe I was harsh in my last post. But I don't feel like I need to justify that. I assume that it speaks for itself.
After losing my stash, I got copies of some of Elliott Smith's discography last night. Oh. XO! I'm listening to it right now. It's like being all alone in high school again.
Some of my favorite bonds have been made over this album.
I mean, this was practically the peanut butter that held the katie culp/brian smith sandwich together back in the day.
I don't care what you guys say. This is happy music.
For the last month and longer there have been 3 things circulating through my mind:
1. Crime.
2. Motherhood, and how that looks for me.
3. This unknown song...
This one time when I was a kid, my family took a little vacation to a cabin in Wisconsin. It was on a complex with lots of other cabins, and a recreational lodge.
In this lodge I played my first game of ping-pong, worked on legos and puzzles, and probably pet a wood bear statue.
There was this group of teenage girls who would hang out there, too. They controlled the jukebox. There was this song that they played over and over again, and I've been trying to find it.
I remember this one specific instance when one of them shouted, "Woo! It's time for the 'You're So Bad' girls!"
I remember the drums, the guitar, the melody, and the timbre of the voices singing. I remember all the grungy, brown-haired girls walking in rhythm, on top of furniture, circling a beam in the center of the room.
They sang,
"You're so bad. You're the best I ever had. Has the world gone mad? You're so bad."
It sounds corny, but I knew that when I grew up I wanted to be just like those girls. They were completely relaxed. They seemed to really understand what it meant to love something they couldn't hold.
I summon the early 90s. What is that song!?
Only today I was greeted by 2 baristas with a question/statement:
"So katie... I hear that you have a really funny blog."
Well, what a coincidence... because I just happen to be hilarious.
I actually read over my blog a few nights ago. The whole thing. All 60something angst-filled posts.
I don't love how much I complain. I guess I do because I feel so urgently about change.
Maybe I was harsh in my last post. But I don't feel like I need to justify that. I assume that it speaks for itself.
After losing my stash, I got copies of some of Elliott Smith's discography last night. Oh. XO! I'm listening to it right now. It's like being all alone in high school again.
Some of my favorite bonds have been made over this album.
I mean, this was practically the peanut butter that held the katie culp/brian smith sandwich together back in the day.
I don't care what you guys say. This is happy music.
For the last month and longer there have been 3 things circulating through my mind:
1. Crime.
2. Motherhood, and how that looks for me.
3. This unknown song...
This one time when I was a kid, my family took a little vacation to a cabin in Wisconsin. It was on a complex with lots of other cabins, and a recreational lodge.
In this lodge I played my first game of ping-pong, worked on legos and puzzles, and probably pet a wood bear statue.
There was this group of teenage girls who would hang out there, too. They controlled the jukebox. There was this song that they played over and over again, and I've been trying to find it.
I remember this one specific instance when one of them shouted, "Woo! It's time for the 'You're So Bad' girls!"
I remember the drums, the guitar, the melody, and the timbre of the voices singing. I remember all the grungy, brown-haired girls walking in rhythm, on top of furniture, circling a beam in the center of the room.
They sang,
"You're so bad. You're the best I ever had. Has the world gone mad? You're so bad."
It sounds corny, but I knew that when I grew up I wanted to be just like those girls. They were completely relaxed. They seemed to really understand what it meant to love something they couldn't hold.
I summon the early 90s. What is that song!?
Saturday, February 16, 2008
so many things...
I really don't even know where to begin.
After the snow day, I had one of the worst weeks of my life.
My glasses broke, my car got stuck in the mud, I awoke to a stranger staring through my window (waving at me!), and my car got broken into... twice.
So to summarize, I completely lost both my identity (red hair/big glasses), and then lost my security.
The Lord did wonderful things with that.
The next week was uneventful, on account that I had contracted the flu. On that Friday I went skiing with some friends. It may not have been the best idea... but it was fun.
I watched a documentary that had me weeping. The Corporation.
Since then I have been scheming ways of releasing freedom and dignity back to the citizens of the world.
I am failing.
Maria, Charlie, Adam and I went to see the Thrashers play this past Wednesday. For free. I did a cartwheel in front of a crossing guard.
Yesterday was by far the most fantastic Valentine's Day I could have ever hoped for.
I officially have the most incredible friends.
For one reason or another we decided to dress ourselves in mysterious garb, created by things I had lying in boxes of sewing material. We painted our faces like Native Americans (or the way they are portrayed by Disney) with art supplies and make-up samples left over from younger years.
We ate veggie chili, hummus with pita, salad made of edible flowers, and chocolate cake. We drank sweet tea and lemonade. We played for hours. We sang hits from the 90s. Nathan and I took turns playing songs we had written.
It's been forever since I've been with a group of people who simply enjoy each other.
This is an official shout-out:
icanfly boys and cabbage town girls... you have been the best additions to my life.
The way you all love each other, and the way you all love Klaus... it really touches me. I cannot put into words how special everyone is. How gifted and how considerate. I'm actually trying, and I cannot vocalize it.
This, however, is not so special.
My room mate was driven home tonight after a party by a group of 4 Trinity goers. When they pulled up they realized that her car wasn't there. In fact, it had been stolen.
What strikes me, in not such a tender way, is that she was all alone when she called me.
Yes, it was awful that her car was stolen, but that's almost to be expected. Come to find out, we live in the most criminally active zip code in the southeast.
What's terrible is that in a group of believers, not one person stopped to consider how they could be a blessing to someone else.
I was in a restaurant with Maria and Nathan, who immediately dropped their plans so that I could get home. Not a moment's hesitation. They offered their homes, their energy, their time, etc.
This is me drawing a line in the social sand:
Kris has been right to call us out as the young congregation.
During the holidays I wasn't exactly the perfect example of sobriety or productivity.
That's hard for me to admit, but I wouldn't be honest if I ignored it.
It was a rookie mistake that has been corrected (no thanks to faithful peers encouraging me to "let loose every once in a while").
It's not a party if it happens every night.
I fail to see what's so amusing about stumbling through crowds of people or constantly having the micro-analyze your love life by saying "WHAT DOES THAT MEEEEEAN!?".
It makes me sad that what God intended to gladden the hearts of men and ladies has become a crutch by which we pass off responsibility.
If you're too consumed with your next move of the night to comfort a friend who just had her CAR STOLEN from the front of her home... if you said "oh that suuuuuuuuucks" and drove off... if you left your friend completely alone while knowing how vulnerable she is... you're a bad friend. Period.
Grow up.
After the snow day, I had one of the worst weeks of my life.
My glasses broke, my car got stuck in the mud, I awoke to a stranger staring through my window (waving at me!), and my car got broken into... twice.
So to summarize, I completely lost both my identity (red hair/big glasses), and then lost my security.
The Lord did wonderful things with that.
The next week was uneventful, on account that I had contracted the flu. On that Friday I went skiing with some friends. It may not have been the best idea... but it was fun.
I watched a documentary that had me weeping. The Corporation.
Since then I have been scheming ways of releasing freedom and dignity back to the citizens of the world.
I am failing.
Maria, Charlie, Adam and I went to see the Thrashers play this past Wednesday. For free. I did a cartwheel in front of a crossing guard.
Yesterday was by far the most fantastic Valentine's Day I could have ever hoped for.
I officially have the most incredible friends.
For one reason or another we decided to dress ourselves in mysterious garb, created by things I had lying in boxes of sewing material. We painted our faces like Native Americans (or the way they are portrayed by Disney) with art supplies and make-up samples left over from younger years.
We ate veggie chili, hummus with pita, salad made of edible flowers, and chocolate cake. We drank sweet tea and lemonade. We played for hours. We sang hits from the 90s. Nathan and I took turns playing songs we had written.
It's been forever since I've been with a group of people who simply enjoy each other.
This is an official shout-out:
icanfly boys and cabbage town girls... you have been the best additions to my life.
The way you all love each other, and the way you all love Klaus... it really touches me. I cannot put into words how special everyone is. How gifted and how considerate. I'm actually trying, and I cannot vocalize it.
This, however, is not so special.
My room mate was driven home tonight after a party by a group of 4 Trinity goers. When they pulled up they realized that her car wasn't there. In fact, it had been stolen.
What strikes me, in not such a tender way, is that she was all alone when she called me.
Yes, it was awful that her car was stolen, but that's almost to be expected. Come to find out, we live in the most criminally active zip code in the southeast.
What's terrible is that in a group of believers, not one person stopped to consider how they could be a blessing to someone else.
I was in a restaurant with Maria and Nathan, who immediately dropped their plans so that I could get home. Not a moment's hesitation. They offered their homes, their energy, their time, etc.
This is me drawing a line in the social sand:
Kris has been right to call us out as the young congregation.
During the holidays I wasn't exactly the perfect example of sobriety or productivity.
That's hard for me to admit, but I wouldn't be honest if I ignored it.
It was a rookie mistake that has been corrected (no thanks to faithful peers encouraging me to "let loose every once in a while").
It's not a party if it happens every night.
I fail to see what's so amusing about stumbling through crowds of people or constantly having the micro-analyze your love life by saying "WHAT DOES THAT MEEEEEAN!?".
It makes me sad that what God intended to gladden the hearts of men and ladies has become a crutch by which we pass off responsibility.
If you're too consumed with your next move of the night to comfort a friend who just had her CAR STOLEN from the front of her home... if you said "oh that suuuuuuuuucks" and drove off... if you left your friend completely alone while knowing how vulnerable she is... you're a bad friend. Period.
Grow up.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
recipe for a perfect day:
10 year old boots
2 pairs of socks
1 pair of stirrup pants
1 pair of blue jeans
1 tank top
1 short sleeve shirt
1 long sleeve shirt
1 hooded sweater
1 pea coat
2 gloves
1 scarf
1 faux fur hat
We'll get back to that.
This week Lauren, Berly, and myself moved into the most perfect house in Atlanta. Beautiful historic streets, skeleton key locks, mail delivery by foot... I cannot think of one single downside.
Lots of people helped us. Lots of strapping young men and women.
Have I ever mentioned how stressful moving is?
We had a house warming/ happy birthday Lauren party last night.
Parties aren't really my thing, but it was quite enjoyable.
Someone went #2 in my toilet and didn't flush. I'm not complaining or anything. Conservation is key.
All of that accumulates to today: the most perfect day of a truly fantastic week. The day that I had set aside for hours and hours of homework.
I arose to a phone call around 11:30 (don't judge... I couldn't sleep last night), inviting me to come sledding in Piedmont Park. "Sledding? In Georgia?" I asked.
I hadn't looked outside yet. Our little city was blanketed in a thin, unfamiliar, and welcomed layer of snow.
If you've been living here for the past 16 years as I have, you know how uncommon this is.
In which case, do you remember the blizzard of '93? Glorious.
I was picked up by my friend Daniel, along with 3 adorable children from Vine City, and driven to the house he and his wife live in. Then we walked roughly a mile (maybe) to the park. We mostly ran in excitement.
Somewhere around 100 people were running up and sliding down this hill in garbage bags, laundry baskets, and cookie sheets.
It didn't even occur to me how ghetto we all are. It was that intoxicating.
The Trinity congregation was ever present. Big thumbs-up.
(+ many)
After a few runs down the hill, things progressed to a Trinity-wide snowball fight at the top. After being hit in both eyes (pictured below)
(um... ouch), a large group of adults surrounded us and waged war. For about an hour we plotted, advanced, and retreated. People that we would normally never stop to talk to became our amiable enemies.
A nicely dressed man walking in solitude under an umbrella, talking on his phone, was assaulted by a dozen of us (not me... I'm not cruel). In a split second he had tucked, rolled, and retaliated using his umbrella as a shield. That was the closest I've ever been to a laugh-cry. He was a champ.
A finely primped newscaster gentleman posed with some children on the hill. They shot a few takes of him pushing the kids on their boogy-boards down the makeshift slope. By that, I mean that they sailed for about a solid foot, and then face planted from the friction.
Then he was assaulted with snowballs. By Trinity. Naturally.
Fast forward to hot chocolate, pajamas, pizza, and nostalgia at Kyle/Blaine/Ian/Casey/Jon's house. Old friends and new neighbors.
In conclusion, we have God to thank. By sending one single inch of snow, He slowed down a hardened city and brought Atlanta together for a day.
And also, by providing Kyle with talent and a camera, this fine day was able to be documented.
2 pairs of socks
1 pair of stirrup pants
1 pair of blue jeans
1 tank top
1 short sleeve shirt
1 long sleeve shirt
1 hooded sweater
1 pea coat
2 gloves
1 scarf
1 faux fur hat
We'll get back to that.
This week Lauren, Berly, and myself moved into the most perfect house in Atlanta. Beautiful historic streets, skeleton key locks, mail delivery by foot... I cannot think of one single downside.
Lots of people helped us. Lots of strapping young men and women.
Have I ever mentioned how stressful moving is?
We had a house warming/ happy birthday Lauren party last night.
Parties aren't really my thing, but it was quite enjoyable.
Someone went #2 in my toilet and didn't flush. I'm not complaining or anything. Conservation is key.
All of that accumulates to today: the most perfect day of a truly fantastic week. The day that I had set aside for hours and hours of homework.
I arose to a phone call around 11:30 (don't judge... I couldn't sleep last night), inviting me to come sledding in Piedmont Park. "Sledding? In Georgia?" I asked.
I hadn't looked outside yet. Our little city was blanketed in a thin, unfamiliar, and welcomed layer of snow.
If you've been living here for the past 16 years as I have, you know how uncommon this is.
In which case, do you remember the blizzard of '93? Glorious.
I was picked up by my friend Daniel, along with 3 adorable children from Vine City, and driven to the house he and his wife live in. Then we walked roughly a mile (maybe) to the park. We mostly ran in excitement.
Somewhere around 100 people were running up and sliding down this hill in garbage bags, laundry baskets, and cookie sheets.
It didn't even occur to me how ghetto we all are. It was that intoxicating.
The Trinity congregation was ever present. Big thumbs-up.
(+ many)
After a few runs down the hill, things progressed to a Trinity-wide snowball fight at the top. After being hit in both eyes (pictured below)
(um... ouch), a large group of adults surrounded us and waged war. For about an hour we plotted, advanced, and retreated. People that we would normally never stop to talk to became our amiable enemies.
A nicely dressed man walking in solitude under an umbrella, talking on his phone, was assaulted by a dozen of us (not me... I'm not cruel). In a split second he had tucked, rolled, and retaliated using his umbrella as a shield. That was the closest I've ever been to a laugh-cry. He was a champ.
A finely primped newscaster gentleman posed with some children on the hill. They shot a few takes of him pushing the kids on their boogy-boards down the makeshift slope. By that, I mean that they sailed for about a solid foot, and then face planted from the friction.
Then he was assaulted with snowballs. By Trinity. Naturally.
Fast forward to hot chocolate, pajamas, pizza, and nostalgia at Kyle/Blaine/Ian/Casey/Jon's house. Old friends and new neighbors.
In conclusion, we have God to thank. By sending one single inch of snow, He slowed down a hardened city and brought Atlanta together for a day.
And also, by providing Kyle with talent and a camera, this fine day was able to be documented.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
surprise.
from...
to...
when it should look like...
It's a long story:
I read up about the toxicity of red dyes and decided to end the cycle of hair funk. After 4 years. Hardly anyone knows me as a non-red-head.
Against my better judgment, I went to my mom's hairdresser.
I should have turned and ran when she said, "You'll like him, katie. He has holes in his jeans!"
Well, dudebro didn't listen to one single word I said.
Without a word he sat me down and put these nasty blond highlights in my head. Let me clarify: bleach blond zebra stripes on top of a red base. The kind that scream "WHERE'S THE MALL!?"
After breaking down in tears in front of him, he slathered a higher concentrate of bleach all over my head. The suburban moms made passive aggressive remarks to me for questioning the brilliance of such a hip man.
After I asked him to leave my hair the same length, he started snipping away. "I'm just shaping things up," he said. "I'm giving you the illuuuuuuusion of long hair".
Now, it's not so bad...
But the point was to go to my natural hue.
I never wanted to do this again, but now I'm forced to start a whole new cycle.
There were plenty of things I could have done instead. In the long run, now I've probably poisoned my brain far more than I ever did before.
Not to mention that my hair is so brittle that I've been instructed to never touch it again.
This is why I don't do salons. They're so "artistic" that it kills their pride when someone knows what they want. If he had told me that he was going to make me look like a Bratz doll, I wouldn't have had to have my hair done twice in 5 hours.
I'm farther away from where I planned to be. But it's fine.
I'm just a little bummed about being in and of a world obsessed with illusion.
I'll say this: waking up this morning was SHOCKING!
to...
when it should look like...
It's a long story:
I read up about the toxicity of red dyes and decided to end the cycle of hair funk. After 4 years. Hardly anyone knows me as a non-red-head.
Against my better judgment, I went to my mom's hairdresser.
I should have turned and ran when she said, "You'll like him, katie. He has holes in his jeans!"
Well, dudebro didn't listen to one single word I said.
Without a word he sat me down and put these nasty blond highlights in my head. Let me clarify: bleach blond zebra stripes on top of a red base. The kind that scream "WHERE'S THE MALL!?"
After breaking down in tears in front of him, he slathered a higher concentrate of bleach all over my head. The suburban moms made passive aggressive remarks to me for questioning the brilliance of such a hip man.
After I asked him to leave my hair the same length, he started snipping away. "I'm just shaping things up," he said. "I'm giving you the illuuuuuuusion of long hair".
Now, it's not so bad...
But the point was to go to my natural hue.
I never wanted to do this again, but now I'm forced to start a whole new cycle.
There were plenty of things I could have done instead. In the long run, now I've probably poisoned my brain far more than I ever did before.
Not to mention that my hair is so brittle that I've been instructed to never touch it again.
This is why I don't do salons. They're so "artistic" that it kills their pride when someone knows what they want. If he had told me that he was going to make me look like a Bratz doll, I wouldn't have had to have my hair done twice in 5 hours.
I'm farther away from where I planned to be. But it's fine.
I'm just a little bummed about being in and of a world obsessed with illusion.
I'll say this: waking up this morning was SHOCKING!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
provoked.
i got hit hard; i'm on the ground.
and if you swing again i'll duck.
and i wish you the best of luck.
you deserve yourself,
and i'll return from my trip to hell
as a headless horseman.
cause, oh, what a loss.
i went back to get my stuff
and it was tangled up and tough.
i stood there and stood you down,
and walked aimlessly around
with a flaming pumpkin head
oh, what a loss.
your soft hands replaced by claws.
you turn me into a stray dog,
from a mighty human man
oh, what a loss.
oh, what a loss.
i miss my closest friend.
and now i cling to rocks and wind.
it's a precious thing we lost.
-The Microphones.
I think we all know that I've never really been one for romance. My fanatical views on chastity and my relational incompetence send me running away from... let's call them pursuers... the moment that intentions turn the slightest shade of pink.
But somehow, about once a year, I commit myself to a truly complicated friendship.
I tend to become supremely attached to these boys. In return, these boys often grow to be rather fond of me in a supremely platonic way. Much like a baby sister. Or a tree.
Things never sour. They never disappoint, and I never change. However, things unfailingly come to a screeching halt when they discover that daylight's wasting, and there are pretty girls all around. I don't know if I'll ever get out of this cycle.
This song always provokes the same memories in me.
Now, I don't think I'm a bad looking lady. I certainly think that I have a pleasant personality.
So, when will you dudes wise up? Seriously.
Sometime soon I'll blog about what is actually consuming my thoughts.
Atlanta, how criminal you are.
and if you swing again i'll duck.
and i wish you the best of luck.
you deserve yourself,
and i'll return from my trip to hell
as a headless horseman.
cause, oh, what a loss.
i went back to get my stuff
and it was tangled up and tough.
i stood there and stood you down,
and walked aimlessly around
with a flaming pumpkin head
oh, what a loss.
your soft hands replaced by claws.
you turn me into a stray dog,
from a mighty human man
oh, what a loss.
oh, what a loss.
i miss my closest friend.
and now i cling to rocks and wind.
it's a precious thing we lost.
-The Microphones.
I think we all know that I've never really been one for romance. My fanatical views on chastity and my relational incompetence send me running away from... let's call them pursuers... the moment that intentions turn the slightest shade of pink.
But somehow, about once a year, I commit myself to a truly complicated friendship.
I tend to become supremely attached to these boys. In return, these boys often grow to be rather fond of me in a supremely platonic way. Much like a baby sister. Or a tree.
Things never sour. They never disappoint, and I never change. However, things unfailingly come to a screeching halt when they discover that daylight's wasting, and there are pretty girls all around. I don't know if I'll ever get out of this cycle.
This song always provokes the same memories in me.
Now, I don't think I'm a bad looking lady. I certainly think that I have a pleasant personality.
So, when will you dudes wise up? Seriously.
Sometime soon I'll blog about what is actually consuming my thoughts.
Atlanta, how criminal you are.
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