If you have been reading my blog, or been in my presence for 45 seconds, you know I'm single and living [the dream] alone. My weekend routine consists of waking up with my cat wrapped around my head, reading a book, and drinking some dope ass coffee.
I usually like to follow that up with a decadent breakfast-for-one. After lots of experimenting, I've come up with a single-serving pancake recipe that you should try, if you're ever alone and in need of carbs. There are tons of these recipes around the internet, but I think mine is the best. (This attitude is why blogs exist.)
1/4 cup of whatever kind of flour you have -- you want to use whole wheat? go the fuck ahead.
1/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
dash of salt
dash of cinamon (this CANNOT be overlooked)
1 egg
1/4 cup milk
1 tsp-ish of vanilla
1 tsp-ish of oil (i use vegetable because I'm not an elitist)
All the blueberries left in your refrigerator
Mix all this shit in one bowl. You can separate dry and wet ingredients, if you want, if you're high maintanence, or if you have a dishwasher. I don't care!
Ladle the batter onto a heated pan. Ladling ensures equal distribution of blueberries.
Flip them. Do I really to explain this? You guys know how to make pancakes, right?
Dear Katie Qué&A, How do I get my coworker to stop telling me about her baby? Frustratedly, Chafed-about-children in Charlestown
Dear Chafed,
I know how you feel. As someone who doesn't care about babies, it's hard to know what to say when people show you pictures of one. I usually go with something generic like, "Oh! It looks like a baby!" If that doesn't work, I recommend flooding her with pictures of something you take care of, like a plant, or your physical health. Did you have a good BM today? Tell her about it! I'm sure you've heard about her baby's adorable accidents at least once or twice. Say something like, "OMG, my poo was so runny today." That way, you'll either scare her off, or find someone to talk about your bowel movements with, and truthfully, isn't that all any of us really wants?
I saw Mad Max this weekend. I realized afterwards that having not seen the previous Mad Max movies tainted my experience. Truthfully, I didn't love the movie. SORRY EVERYONE. One of the things I like most about dystopias is learning how humanity destroyed the world. There wasn't much of that in the movie, since apparently it was covered previously in the series. I thought this was a remake. I don't know anything about movies, you guys.
I also really wanted to see some bad-ass, futuristic animals, but there were none of those either. So many better dystopias out there, you guys. So many.
For example.
Or maybe I didn't like it because all women hate action movies! When are Mad Max and Imperator Furiosa going to fall in love??!?! Just kidding, actually, my favorite part of the movie was their not falling in love. [ACTUALLY, my favorite part of the movie was when I got carded to buy a ticket. I look under 17, you guys. I feel infantile and it's amazing.]
Obviously, I went to see the movie because I heard of its "overt feminist agenda" that men's rights activists are all riled up about. (I told my friend, Kyle, this, and he responded, "Men's rights activists? That's actually a thing?" Bless his heart.) If "overt feminist agenda" means showing men and women in equal roles, then thank god for feminism, right? It was refreshing to see a dominant female character, but still, I never felt like women prevailed over men. In fact, everything sucked for pretty much everyone, equally. Maybe that's the danger of feminism! We're all going to end up thirsty in a desert and it's all women's fault! Or something. I honestly really don't know what people were upset about.
Then again, there was that once scene where Max handed a gun over to Imperator to do the shooting and I felt every man's penis retract into his body at that moment. World domination is around the corner, ladies!
But until then, make sure the government is okay with your contraception choice.
He's fine, just $300 poorer, if you consider him part of my family income, which you should not because he's a deadbeat who doesn't contribute shit. On that note, I'm worried about his seemingly addictive personality. He not only doesn't mind taking medicine, he actually begs me for it. He finds the bag of drugs and tries to pull out the syringes on his own. This is how it starts. MY CAT'S ADDICTED TO DRUGS, YOU GUYS.
[This is probably not a funny joke on account of the fact that opiate addiction is a seriously problem, but, hey, when has political correctness ever gotten in the way of my blog?]
Speaking of medically induced addictions (?), a doctor from my hometown was recently indicted for illegally prescribing opiates. On the same day, a school bus driver in my town was arrested for drunk driving. Cape Cod is so classy! Just the vacation getaway you've always dreamed about.
Anyway, back to Boo. You know I don't like to make judgments about one's sexual history, but I can't help but think his promiscuity has something to do with this UTI.
Then
Now
Opiate addiction. Sex addiction. This is what happens when you find your pet on the streets!
I'd like to pay off my student loans before I die. Or go on a vacation for more than 4 days. Or upgrade the furniture I've had since 5th grade. So I've been very conscientiously trying to save money lately. Thankfully, I'm in a position where I have the opportunity to do so, but it has meant cutting expenses and being more thoughtful about how I spend my money. In other words, I can no longer justify spending $19 on brunch when I can make something way better for approximately $2.65 in my own kitchen.
On that note, I just need to say that I kind of hate brunch, you guys. I know that is a dramatically unpopular opinion among people in my demographic -- 20-something women fucking live for brunch. But, like, an egg costs 25 cents or less, people, and that's really all I can think about every time I'm sitting around with my friends drinking a basically-just-orange-juice mimosa.
Here are some ways I've saved money over the past few months:
Socialized on a dime. My go-to social activity has always been eating and drinking, but as I said, brunch and really most meals out are disappointing. If I'm going to drop mad cash on food it better be amazing. (Note: I did just that at Oleana the other week and it fulfilled all my hopes and dreams. Go there.) Of course, food is still critically important to me, so I've been inviting people over for dinner instead. Or, when it's warm out, we'll surreptitiously sip wine together in public parks. Who doesn't like a little danger, right? The point is, spend time with your friends, not money.
Quit my gym. Again. For real this time. I've been a member of every gym in Boston, I'm pretty sure, because I've always "valued fitness" (aka stressed out about my weight). But then I realized that spending $75 a month on something that has, when I really think about it, not made me feel any better about myself, is a pretty big waste of money. Plus, I can go to the gym at work for free. It might be a little ghetto, but who cares? If it's really just about being healthy, then I don't need fancy equipment, or "free" towels, or a spin instructor's unsolicited opinion on nutrition.
Cooked. A lot. The trick to eating well on a budget is eating like a immigrant. I'm talking beans and grains, people. It's also spending an hour or two on Sunday making a bunch of food and portioning it out for the week. (Warning: when you're single and/or live alone, this means eating the same thing every day, so make sure you make something fucking delicious or you're going to hate your life come Wednesday.) If what I cook matters to you at all, follow me on instagram.
Convinced AT&T that after 12 years of being a customer, they should probably lower my phone bill, especially since I don't even use it. This is 2015 -- who talks on the phone anymore? Also, I don't understand the economics of the internet. Like what the fuck am I even paying for anyway? Someone please explain this to me.
Started using budgetsimple.com. I had been a long-time user of mint.com until my bank stopped allowing me to sync my account information for security reasons. I figured that was probably a sign I should stop using their service (even though I am the ideal citizen, who will generally sacrifice all my privacy for convenience). So, I transitioned to a completely free, completely manual app. I have to input all of my spending, which obviously is time consuming, but it's probably the best way to actually stay on a budget because you're conscious of what you're spending your money on. Like $19 on eggs benedict, for example.
Of course, the best way to save money is to earn more of it, which is why I really need to start charging you guys to read my blog. That, or start freelance writing. SOMEBODY HIRE ME. I CAN DO STUFF.
I pretty much feel nothing when I see a baby, but show me a kitten and my womb starts to BURN.
Boo and I have at least one thing in common -- having to rush to the hospital in the middle of the night because of a UTI.
And yet neither of us ever has sex.
IT IS A CRUEL, CRUEL WORLD WE LIVE IN.
But really, the animal hospital is one of the saddest places to be at 3 in the morning. I witnessed two sets of pet parents come in with their animal and leave without it.
Boo has a very expensive penis. I said that to the woman behind the counter at the animal hospital and her response was, "Typical."
"Is it because I hump this blanket?"
HBO must have a rape clause that requires unnecessary rape scenes be added to television shows.
Seriously, though, what was the point of the final scene in last night's episode of GOT? Did the directors think we weren't sure if Ramsay was a dick or not? IT'S BEEN PRETTY CLEAR, GUYS. I don't think anyone was like, "Oh, maybe he's just a really a nice guy deep down" and needed that scene to see otherwise.
I spent my evening last night handing out coffee and donuts to students taking and/or studying for finals. It was greatly appreciated by most of the students who stopped by my table, and I felt good doing something nice for them. I mean, I know first-hand how essential carbs are to academic success (that's why I gained so much weight in college). But, then, some "law school student" showed up and quickly ruined my night.
It started out okay. He and the woman he was with talked about how excited they were for commencement. I was excited for them, too. Then, they starting talking about how they went to a masquerade ball hosted by the university and everything went down hill from there. Law Bro quickly whipped out his phone to show us pictures of himself and his three dates... because he is so amazing that he carries three women around with him. This reminded him of his experience "representing" playboy bunnies, which he proved by showing us pictures of himself with more women. Isn't he so cool, you guys?
I very rapidly and instinctively looked away and started a conversation with someone else while my male coworker jumped in to talk to Law Bro. This offended Law Bro. Oh, you're not impressed? Well I don't want to talk to you anyway.
At that point I tried very hard to ignore him but he got louder and louder, name dropping all the people he's "represented" including, but not limited to, Mark Wahlberg and Slash. I probably don't know who Slash is, though, because I probably just watch Desperate Housewives. Or maybe he said Real Housewives. Either way, I continued to ignore him while screaming in my head. Little do you know, I don't even have cable, mother fucker, so suck on that.
Overall, it was a pretty horrific display of insecurity thinly masked by aggressive pomposity, and I was just a bitch for not being impressed by it. In fact, I was "just like every other woman" he knows. I can't imagine why that would be.
Truly, living alone is the best thing I've ever done for myself. I wake up [almost] every morning feeling ~too blessed to be stressed~. However, there are some occasional moments when I really wish I had a roommate, friendly neighbor, boyfriend (???) to help me live. These moments include:
When the smoke alarm goes off at 5 in the morning because I have to change the batteries for the THIRD TIME in less than a year. This is not normal, right?
When the smoke alarm is too high to reach, even when I stand on a chair.
When I fall off that chair, and acquire a bruise that has lasted over 1 week and makes me look like TRAILER TRASH.
When I make myself a casual bacon and blueberry pancake-for-one breakfast on a lazy Sunday morning and set off the M-F smoke alarm that I STILL CAN'T REACH AND WAVING A BROOM DOESN'T HELP EITHER AND I'M REALLY SORRY, NEIGHBORS, BUT YOU SHOULD GET SOME EARPLUGS.
Fuck smoke alarms*, for real.
When it suddenly becomes 97 degrees in Boston and I can't put my air conditioner in on my own without killing myself and/or whomever may be standing below my window, most likely one of the drunk homeless people who spend all day smoking cigarettes in my courtyard.
Basically whenever I have to reach or lift things.
After I get off the phone with AT&T "customer support" and sink into a deep, rage-filled depression.
And, of course, all those times I'm feeling wicked sexy:
Amen.
*Editor's note: In college, I owned a cell phone that required me to name all my alarms. In other words, whenever my alarm went off, a message also appeared on the screen. I'll never forget the time I went on vacation with my friend's family and her dad woke up to my phone ringing and flashing the words "FUCK ALARMS".
You may or may not have noticed that I haven't blogged in a while. It's not that I haven't had experiences worth writing about; it's just that I am increasingly more lazy every day. I've channeled the little energy I have into writing jokes that I keep to myself, hidden on the Notepad app on my iPhone. Occasionally, I share those jokes with small groups of strangers, in small spaces, late at night, usually on Wednesdays.
Here are some other things I've done over the past few months:
Ran into Robert Kraft in DC:
Practiced magic:
Sat on the beach:
Sat in my apartment (a lot).
Read books:
Ate donuts every Friday.
Tried to stay away from facebook because it's full of shit like this:
What the actual fuck?
Played games at Improv Boston:
Nearly threw up from laughing at North Coast:
Basked in the glory of Spring in Boston
Went on the scariest date of my life.
Quit dating for the 1 millionth time.
Took selfies with my cat:
Assembled furniture, while drunk, at midnight.
Fell off a chair at 5 in the morning trying to fix my smoke alarm.
Recognized that I could literally die alone.
Maybe I'll write about one of these things in more detail sometime soon. Maybe I wont. Maybe I should officially retire from blogging. You tell me.
