Archive for July, 2007

A Response to BeepBoop

My friend Birch over at BeepBoop posted a wonderful pic for me today of a giant man with his regular sized friends. I love these pictures. Well wouldn’t you know, I have some pics of a giant person with regular sizers that I would like to post. And the giant featured in these pics is ME.

Guys seriously, I’m only five foot ten inches, but I appear to be a monster-sized woman. I noticed this trend in some pics taken at my friend Susan’s wedding. Please note, Susan is five foot seven, but appears to be a midget next to me. She is even in giant heels in the first pic, but to no avail.

Example #1: Bridesmaids and Brides

Example #2: The Hike

If you ever wonder why us giants slouch, let the above images be your answer. We don’t like looking like giraffes in pictures. I’ve been this height since I was about eleven years old, and it’s been a traumatizing experience my whole life. All you five foot sixers who love to chastise us tallies for not loving our height should walk one day in our ballet flats (probably size 11s) and get back to us. “Oh I’d kill to be your height!” The five sixers say. “It’s so glamorous! Wah wah blah, I’m five foot six!” Shut your fucking average sized mouths. You have no idea how lucky you are. It’s only the models who are glamorous at this height. The rest of us lumber around, hogging up space in the street and on subway cars, awkwardly trying to cram into backseats and airplanes. There is nothing glamorous about J Crew not having tall sizes in stores or getting stuck attempting to exit a roller coaster because your legs are so massive they got wedged in the roller coaster leg compartment. You think there’s suffering in Darfur? Try the giant person walking right behind you. WE are suffering. A lot.

Damn, I am seriously so tall.

Interesting Cancer Article

The New York Times digs into the scary world of cancer care. Pancreatic Cancer even gets a tiny shout out. I’ve thought a lot about the stuff the story covers, but am too tired to really get all preachy on it now. But it’s a good, smart read, and it features a 35-year old mother of an infant with Stage IV Colon Cancer with mets to the liver (same spot my mom’s cancer turned up in, besides her pancreas). Pretty barftastic situation, but kudos to her for her strength and getting the word out.

Newport Harbor: The Real OC

Here is a trailer for “the new Laguna Beach.” The kids look douchier and more bland, if that is at all possible. There’s not a brunette to be found – probably because they’re all listening to Morrissey records and working at the local Hot Topic.

The whole premise of this franchise is pretty boring and predictable these days, if you ask me. It will probably go something like this: girl clique excludes someone, boy cheats on girl with more popular girl, boys play golf, girls shop, boys skateboard, girls get manicures and drink fat free lattes, boys ask girls to prom in crazy ways (“OMG, there are goldfish in my bathtub!”), boys wear their tuxes with skate shoes, girls’ anorexia goes into full swing to fit into size 2 Catherine Malandrino prom dresses, girl clique excludes someone, girl cheats on boy with more popular boy, graduation, tears, beach bonfire, new season.

Regardless, I will still watch this, because I am a sheep for all MTV reality TV shows.

Nicole Richie on Paper

Kind of pretty when you don’t have to see her already-wrinkled face, huh?

[Us Magazine]

Rock of Love…and Me

Rock of Love is VH1’s latest attempt at mixing the insanity of Flavor of Love with rock n’ roll (and some trashy strippers). It’s honestly pure genius. Before I started working VH1 I felt a deep admiration for their obvious understanding of what makes a reality TV show awesome. Now that I work within the walls of the great Viacom, I am proud to be somewhat tied to this tiny slice of genius. If you aren’t up to date on Bret Michael’s dating bonanza, you should check out my co-worker Rich’s recap of the first episode. Though I first thought it to be impossible, the re-cap is BETTER than the episode. Both are made of heaven cooked in an oven of all things good. With a dash of ho mixed in.

I’m slowly trying to get back to the blogosphere here on KateLikesYou. I’ve been spending a lot of time working through the stuff that comes with the loss of my mother by doing a shit-ton of yoga and a fair share of the talking cure. I don’t know if it’s working, but I have learned that it is a fucking slow ass process that will probably take a lifetime to work through. I am a functioning adult most of the time, unless booze or therapy is involved. Then my eyes run and my nose cries and all that good stuff.

But that brings me to my latest cure-all: WEDDING MAGS. Holy yes. Perhaps this blog might head toward the wedding world a bit as I am properly engaged to wed Boyfriend, and the world of weddings is fucking insane. But there’s nothing like advice on teeth-whitening and invitation etiquette to make my head calm. I’m just glad I read this book before my Bridezilla shit hit the fan.

Oh fuck it, the shit is coming regardless.

Vote for Eloise!

Everyone Look! My adorable friend Eloise is one of the finalists in Modern Bride’s Trendista contest, and she can win some fun pampering and a photoshoot in BRIDES magazine! Hook her up with some votes! Eloise is classy, sassy and seriously has some of the best style ever. Totes Trendista.

(she’s the blond in the top right corner)

$52 Million For What?

Dear Johnny Damon,

Ya miss us yet?

Red Sox Nation

Phat Girlz Saves the Day

Yesterday I was sick – fever/snot/sore throat/aches sick – and I stayed home from work and sweated it out on the couch until my fever broke. Then I shuffled to Barnes and Noble for some wedding mags, passed out for the 4th time that day, ate a bunch of soup, and forced Anthony to watch Phat Girlz with me.

Yes, Phat Girlz. Had it not been for this glorious film, this post would have been all about how being sick makes me miss my mom, weep weep weep, sad sad sad. But holy shit – Phat Girlz! Do I love a story about some fat chicks who only feel good about themselves after fucking some Nigerian doctors? I do. I really do.

Comedy Genius Jackie Clarke did an amazing podcast last year for her then-radio show, where she and a bunch of peeps went and saw Phat Girlz in the theater while high. I listened to the podcast 8 billion times because it was so fucking funny. I tried to find the podcast, but it is gone. My heart would be broken because of this, if not for Monique and the beehive hairdo she wears for most of Phat Girlz. Seriously, this movie turns every potential frown upside down.

It did not, however, stop me from noticing that my fly was down this morning on my commute to work, until a dude in line for coffee blatantly pointed out my crotch to his friend.

Moms Rule

Seeing as I can’t email my mom this, I’ll post it here.

Paris Hilton and I have so much in common! Mom love and herpes. I’m kidding about one of those.

July 2007

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