There's a reason she signs all her e-mails "Awesome"

Ms. Grrface, Lauren, knitted me the most awesome purse and scarf. And this isn't just any scarf; it's a 12-foot-long red scarf!!! Lauren, I don't think I can ever repay you for this. Your note didn't lie; you are a badass mofo indeed. <3



[Edit: Okay, in retrospect, you can't get a feel for the 12-footness of the scarf from my picture ... but it's so soft and I was so excited to wear it.]

[Edit 2: Great timing. It doesn't get very cold in Chucktown very often, but we're expected to get snow tomorrow. Maybe I should wear this to the beach.]

Wall Street Fighter FTW

"SONIC BLOOMBERG!"



Video via Matt. Finally a game I've studied long enough to be able to totally pwn him.

Music rattling around my brain

I spent some time this morning goofing around in SF4, trying to learn the moves of a character I rarely use, but my fingers just don't want to play along. They're cold and stiff and won't do what I want them to do. I think my fingers just want me to unwrap my hands from the controller and try to remember what it feels like to gently rest them on piano keys, what it feels like to hear the music in my head just an instant before striking the first notes.

In the 25 years since I began playing, I've turned to my piano many times for release: when I need to clear my head or can't find the words to articulate emotions that have no name. I haven't had that release for months now.

I loved to play when I was young and probably would be much better today if I'd applied myself at lessons, but the lessons weren't so important once I realized my piano could translate the feelings leaping from my head Athena-like, fully formed and armored. When I was sad, she cried for me. When I was happy, she sang for me. And when I was angry, she screamed for me.

She stayed behind when I moved out of my parents' house at 18. I knew I could visit her any time I wanted to play, but it wasn't the same. I couldn't just sit down and let out my emotions; it required some planning. I missed her terribly. When I took over the house in which I grew up, she was waiting for me. I was finally home.

I want that feeling back, and I hate that I had to leave her in Memphis until I find a house in Charleston. Sometimes it's so quiet I can't hear myself think, and I just want to lose myself in a song. I'm sure I'm a little rusty but it doesn't take long for fingers to remember.

... And the controller is a lousy substitute.

Kate without an eight

The two questions I'm most often asked about my name is whether Kate is short for anything and whether I'm named after anybody. No and no. Pretty boring, huh? I'll tolerate Katy as a nickname only by dear friends who are willing to sing me "K-K-K-Katy": "K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy/You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore ..."

It's been years since anyone sang that to me, and I'm pretty sure my face might freeze into a permanent smile if someone did.

Anyway, the only other question I'm asked about my name on a regular basis is how to spell it. I don't think it's that hard, but Cate Blanchett has thrown off the curve for the rest of us. Still, I haven't heard of much variation beyond Kate-With-a-K and Cate-With-a-C ...

... Until three of the other women in niche popped by my cube today. One of them has a preschool-age son with a classmate named K8. Yes, that's K8-With-an-Eight. It's on her birth certificate and that's how her family and teachers spell it. Problem is that K8's parents are facing a bit of a dilemma because they're trying to get her a passport but numerals are not allowed on a passport.

"You've probably never done that even on personal stuff to be cute," one said about abbreviating Kate as K8. (I have. I didn't volunteer that information after hearing it put in those terms.)

Anyway, they told me that since I started working there, I've been dubbed Kate-Without-an-Eight. I guess there are worse things to be called by one's coworkers, no?

Kate-With-a-K-But-Without-an-Eight, signing off.

A conversation at work today leads me to ask ...

... How do you say coupon: Coo-pon or Kyoo-pon?

... And I actually talk to myself quite often

My friend Matt caught me off-guard tonight and now has posted on his website this gem from our conversation:

"You're the only person I like talking to more than myself." - Kate S.

Oh, just shut up already. Can't I stroke your ego a little without you using it against me? As for Street Fighter 4, it's on. I'm going to beat you down so hard you'll be begging for me to let you win one. ... And maybe I will.

A post-Valentine's day valentine

It's the day after Valentine's Day, which makes it an appropriate time to say this:

I have the best friends in the world. Some of you I've known a very long time; others I just recently met. Some are real-life friends (I was going to say "brick and mortar friends," which actually is a pretty funny mental image); others I only know online and likely will never meet in person, though I'm open to that.

My best friend, of course, is the guy who has put up with me the most for the longest. He does most of the laundry and doesn't even bug me about my very OCD need to mute the speakers in my car before I turn off the engine.

To the rest of you: Thank you for cheering me up when I'm down, calling me even though you know I probably won't pick up the phone, and being there when I need a shoulder. Heck, you're even reading this, which means you subject yourself to my ramblings, as well. (Masochists!) I had no intention of naming names, but since we're in the blogosphere, I should send a special shoutout to fellow bloggers Smacky, De and Lauren -- as well as Monstee, wherever he may be -- for making me (and my blog) feel so welcome right from the start. I probably wouldn't still be blogging if I hadn't met you guys. You mean a lot.

Happy V-day, everyone, and much love. -ks

Workin' for the (news)man

Happy V-Day to those who do the candy and cards thing (or the BMW or diamonds thing). Paul brought home a beautiful box of truffles last night, as well as a double-dipped Death By Chocolate brownie for himself. He tells me it was delicious.

I started my new freelance job Friday morning. Friday is an odd day to start anything new -- and it didn't come with much warning -- but the people with whom I'm working are super-nice and friendly.

Also, I really, really appreciated the little text messages and IMs of encouragement from the few people I told in advance. So thanks to the person who messaged me with, "Yea-yah! Work that red pen, baby." (Giggle.) And double-thanks to the friend who sent me pics of him working in his cubicle so I didn't feel so out of place back in cube-world. :-)

I didn't want to talk about the freelance work until it started in case it didn't work out. Now that it's a go, I can say it's for niche publications for Charleston's big daily, The Post and Courier. As a strange coincidence, the niche editor is from Memphis, graduated from the same journalism program and worked at the same business paper I did, albeit several years before me. We've never crossed paths, but it's a small world nonetheless.

All the freelance work is on-site, and it was a very, very strange feeling to be back in a big newsroom. Very strange. For five years, I worked at a much smaller paper where it wasn't out of the norm for me to dress down, sit in my little closet and (shh!) kick off my my flip-flops under my desk.

In fact, it's been a long time since I've even been in a big newsroom, so I'd forgotten about all the security measures, the maze of reporters' desks ... even what it felt like to work in a cubicle. But there also was an air of familiarity, right down to how the division had nixed its overhead lights in favor of mood lighting. (Surely this isn't unique to the two big newsrooms in which I've worked, right? A lot of companies do this?) My cube had a desk lamp and a string of Chinese lanterns. Fortunately, I wasn't too rusty on running a Mac and using InDesign. It came back to me quickly and I was able to edit and lay out pages with no real issues.

As an aside, if you've never seen a newsroom, it doesn't look much like The Daily Planet or what have you. In real life, they're bigger and brighter and buzzing with phone calls and keyboard clicks. Spend some time around a reporter, multiply it by, like, 50, and there's your newsroom for you. I'd highly recommend everyone check out the backside of news -- print or TV -- if they get a chance because working in a newsroom is neither as easy nor as glamorous as it might seem. (It doesn't excuse bad reporting and editing, such as the poorly written story Doc mentions in this post, but it does offer a glimpse into what it takes to get the news out every day.)

The freelance work will be a sporadic thing based on their production schedule, but I am headed back Monday to finish what I started Friday. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before that big newsroom doesn't seem so foreign to me.

Good morning, world!

I'm frustrated my sleep is all messed up, but it has nothing to do with the late hours I've been pulling lately. Instead, my insurance company has decided to question my psychiatrist about why I need Ambien, which means I've been without for nearly a week now. I've gotten about nine hours' sleep since Tuesday, with most of that being Thursday night after taking some doxylamine in desperation. Not sleeping means not eating. Not eating means Paul pretty much had to guilt me into trying one of the Valentine's Day truffles he bought me. It was great -- he did well! -- but I felt sick well into the night. Haven't eaten since.

The extra wakey-wakey hours have given me a chance to reconnect with my iPod, play a lot of Castlevania and watch some videos I'd been putting off for a while. I'm having enough fun that I'd probably continue to keep these hours if I could do it with no side effects.

I think the part that annoys Paul the most is that I'm a morning person through and through. Even when I'm not doing the insomnia thing, my morning M.O. is to wake up before my alarm goes off, get something to drink, turn on CNBC to catch up on the markets, and check my online news feeds before I shower. On the other hand, he sets two alarms, still hits the snooze button, then stumbles into the shower in hopes it will wake him up. He watches Sportscenter ("I don't have to think when I watch it," he says, taking a small dig at my CNBC habit) and pretty much doesn't speak from the time he wakes up to the time he says, "Bye, honey," on his way out the door.

There's something about morning that feels so ... new. How can people not absolutely love that feeling?

Call me!!!

Lots o' people were assigned new ringtones tonight. Here's the lineup:

"Birdhouse in Your Soul," They Might Be Giants
"My Humps," Black Eyed Peas
"Particle Man," They Might Be Giants
"Pleasure (Pleasure)," Bang Camaro
"Real Good Looking Boy," The Who

Guess who got what.

Paulisms go aquatic

I know I've said this first part before, but I'll say it again: Paul is a really smart guy, and I'm not just saying that because I'm married to him. I mean, I proofed his dissertation. He said a lot of really smart things.

However, he says plenty of, umm, less-than-smart things, too, dubbed "Paulisms." Paulisms come up at unexpected moments. You just never know when you're going to get one. But you're almost guaranteed to hear at least one when you're watching Jeopardy with him. That's because he answers every question, even if he doesn't know the answer. (He treats Jeopardy like the ACT.)

Tonight's Jeopardy Paulism:

Answer: "Buddha's 1st noble truth is all life is suffering -- there are more of these in the world than there is water in the ocean."

Paul's answer: "Umm ... fish?"

Wha--? For real??

(The correct answer, by the way, is, "What are tears.")

Hot answers to 2008's Most Asked Questions

As an exercise in getting to know my readership, I sat down and analyzed the keyphrases that got you from a search engine to my site in 2008. Most people simply searched for "Kate's Ink," either alone or with one of a spate of things I regularly address on my blog. (Don't even get me started on how many people searched for Kate's Ink and hoodies.)

But I also noticed a lot of people clicked through after searching for answers to really pressing questions I'd never thought to answer before! Apparently, Kate's Ink is readily mistaken for Ask.com or Wikipedia.

Now, as my professor husband (yes, he's the doctor but one who doesn't help people) recently told someone, "If you are confused, chances are someone else is as well. So, when in class, never be afraid to ask a question because the likelihood is someone else is wondering the same thing."

In that vein, I'm going to answer your questions, right here, right now. And yes, all the things bolded in this post are actual keyphrases that resulted in clickthrus to my blog.

• How big is Hillshire Farms' Yard O' Beef? Three pounds, 4,560 calories, 408g of fat and 15,360mg of sodium.
• How long is a moment? In medieval times, it was a minute and a half. Now, not so much.
• How can I hire a callgirl for a night in Nepal? Call them? (It's a joke, people.)
• How to remove machine odors from sweaters made in Ecuador? Hand wash with glycerine soap. Don't dry clean or toss in a washing machine.
• Do tattoos cause muscle twitches? When you're getting one? Yes.


• Where can I buy Softsoap Morning Mist? It's discontinued and selling at a premium: $10 for a 255ml bottle on eBay. Ten bucks. For soap.
  
• Who's watching the Watchmen? Read the book. Or, if you have 160 minutes to kill March 6, see the movie.
• What is the danger of ingesting Pentel pens? There are no acute health effects, according to the product's official material safety data sheet.
• Is pizza with ranch dressing a Southern thing? No.
• How much is a bottle of Disaronno? The most-common sizes (375ml, 750ml and 1L) fall between 3.4 cents and 3.8 cents per mL, meaning the 750ml bottle is $25-$30.
  
• What is dimenhydrinate? Original-formula Dramamine.
  
• Why can't you sign a check with red ink? You can. It's an urban legend, according to Bankrate.com.
  
• What is leukocytosis? A fancy way of saying your white blood count is high. Your doctor will need to run tests to make sure it's not a symptom of another disease (e.g., leukemia). Chin up! It hasn't killed me yet.
• Is it OK to take meclizine with Pepto-Bismol? Drugs.com says yes, but check with your doc.
• What color does Lysol turn when mixed with cabbage juice? The HCl in Lysol Toilet Bowl Cleaner will turn red cabbage juice pink.
• What can I buy besides Zorbeez? The world is full of possibilities. To see my original Zorbeez post (a.k.a. the "Pie Face" post), which is surprisingly still popular, click here.

And now to address a few other things:

• To the several people who Googled my birth name: Hi. Drop me an e-mail.
• Instead of Googling ooh gotta pee, just go. The Internet will wait.
• If you were searching for Kate in pantyhose, look for a different Kate. But if you're adamant about telling me, "You're calling the shots, Kate," that's cool with me.
  
• I don't have the recipes for Pentacostal peanut brittle or Crazy Kate's Spicy Pickles, though both sound intriguing.
  
• City of Heroes yiff and Huckleberry Finn furries? Eww, no. Your princess is in another castle.

And finally, I'll leave you with a poorly worded question to which I have no answer (but maybe you do): Do anybody know a code for Kate?

Criminally cute

It's been a long time since I've laughed so hard at a video that I've cried.



(Courtesy of Fail Blog)