Archive for the ‘McFly’ Category

A Lame Photographic Montage Of The Weekend

March 31, 2009

GETTING CULTURED ON FRIDAY NIGHT

Things I discovered:

  1. Sangria is not a popular gum flavor. Which might explain why it was on sale at Soviet Safeway.
  2. I hereby officially declare that I will put out for any date who takes me to Founding Fathers
  3. Modern dance is very, um… Well, let’s just say it’s not ballet.

 

Founding Fathers

Moi, Lulu and McFly smiling pretty at Founding Fathers.

Kennedy Center.

Go stand in the rain. I want a picture. You'll thank me when we're 80 and can remember this moment.

 A SATURDAY NIGHT VISIT TO WONDERLAND, CELEBRATING THE ANNIVERSARY OF McFLY’S BIRTH

Things I discovered:

  1. Contrary to previous speculation, I am not the worst dancer in the Metro Area. It’s actually Brian.
  2. Cab Number One: 22 minutes spent listening to the dispatcher’s detailed explanation of why Cab 84 is “a retard.” As evidence, he cited 84’s inability to locate building entrances, lack of proper radio responses and apparent preference for Pakistani country music. 
  3. Cab Number Two: My second strangest cabbie experience. Ever. Included a drunk driver snacking on ho hos while making a three point turn into oncoming traffic. 
  4. Cab Number Three: If somebody with a nose bleed asks to share a cab to NoVA, don’t do it. Trust me. It won’t end well.
  5. I have developed a vodka immunity.
  6. Delirium fixes that problem.

 

Yes, I got her the card crown. And I am overly proud of myself.

Yes, I got McFly the card crown. And I am overly proud of myself.

I've succumbed. Footless tights are my new pants.

I've succumbed. Footless tights are my new pants.

The Great 2009 Grind Off.

The Great 2009 Grind Off. I lost.

Entertaining the Bathroom Line.

Entertaining the Bathroom Line.

I even have culinary disasters in restaurants.

I even have culinary disasters in restaurants.

 MONDAY’S KICK BOOTY ROAD TRIP TO REHOBOTH

Things I discovered:

  1. It’s not pronounced “Ray-booth.” 
  2. A text recap… Me to Stella: It has come out in our road trip conversation that McFly sees me as an old lady with a collection of lawn ornaments. I am sort of insulted. Stella’s reply to Me: Hahahahahhahhaha. I TOTALLY see it. Me back to Stella: Fuck you. But McFly says holler. 
  3. Rehobothers liberally interpret “ocean front views.” 
  4. Waves are aggressive. 
  5. McFly does not appreciate the genius of Bob Evans. My new goal in life is to rectify this.

 

Unintentional Detour Number One: the Pentagon. And seeing as we're still in NoVA, this does not bode well for the trip.

Unintentional Detour Number One: the Pentagon. And seeing as we're still in NoVA, this does not bode well for the trip.

Guess I'm screwed.

I'm screwed.

McFly: Which way do we go on US-9? Me: It doesn't say. McFly: Ummm. Right? Me: Commence Unintentional Detour Number Three.

McFly: Which way do we go on US-9? Me: It doesn't say. McFly: Ummm. How about right? Me: Commence Unintentional Detour Number Jillion.

Race?

Race?

X-rated sandcastles.

X-rated sandcastles.

Holler!

Holler!

Grrr! Arrrrgh!

Grrr! Arrrrgh!

Stupid wave.

Stupid wave.

I wanted to bury her. This is what compromise looks like.

I wanted to bury her. This is what compromise looks like.

My Thinking Face.

My Thinking Face.

I wanted to be the man, but I couldn't get his face to open. Thus, I express my feelings accordingly.

I wanted to be the man, but I couldn't get his face to open. Thus, I express my feelings accordingly.

I feel like I'm in an episode of Gilmore Girls.

I feel like I'm in an episode of Gilmore Girls.

Bestiality.

Bestiality.

I sometimes do strange things.

I sometimes do strange things.

McFly and Me.

McFly and Me.

The Drunkie Photo Montage

January 2, 2009

I would like to dedicate this to Herb. Because he wanted the pictures posted badly enough to leave TWO comments. And also to vodka. If it weren’t for you, my life would be a whole lot less embarrassing entertaining eventful.

I am nothing but class.

I am nothing but class.

Potential disaster or previously undiscovered talent? Only time will tell.

Potential disaster or previously undiscovered talent? Only time will tell.

Knee Pad Girl. Photographic evidence of her existence.

Knee Pad Girl. Photographic evidence of her existence.

Putting our hopes for the New Year into the Universe.

Putting our hopes for the New Year into the Universe.

Wonder what the shelf life is on the cheese packet?

What's the shelf life is on those cheese packets?

the Triumvirate of Awesome.

Stella, me and McFly: the Triumvirate of Awesome.

consumption of grease and carbs.

The first step in hangover prevention: consumption of grease and carbs.

The first of 76 self-portraits we took in a five minute span. Also, the only one in focus.

The first of 76 self-portraits we took in a five minute span. Also, the only one in focus.

And there's a random conversation going on behind me.

And there's a random conversation going on behind me.

I have no explanation.

I have no explanation.

Wedgie. Must be corrected.

Wedgie. Must be corrected.

Contraband and take-backs.

Contraband and take-backs.

Raise your hand if you are intoxicated.

Raise your hand if you are eating ice cream.

This is my drunk face.

This is my drunk face.

Stella will be reheating that chocolate fondue and making us eat it until 2010.

Stella will be reheating that chocolate fondue and making us eat it until 2010.

And going out on a high note... a close up of the seersucker/knee pad leg warmer situation.

And going out on a high note... a close up of the seersucker/knee pad leg warmer situation.

PS — Stella and McFly, please note the judicious self-restraint I’ve employed in selecting the photos below. I tried to limit double chins, squinty eyes and other assorted picture disasters to myself.

When All Else Fails, Take The Booze AND RUN! Or, Ready For Semi-Drunk Blogging? Yeah? Yeah!

January 1, 2009

This is Katherine and Stella signing in for a New Years Eve recap, while still semi-intoxicated and mysteriously awake. Stella would like to point out she was almost stabbed in puruit of fondue ingredients and that she is fabulous. Also, she wants the world to know that in a three hour span, sort of like Giligan’s Tour, we attended two parties, got pizza and I farted extensively. Conequently, her sheets no longer smell like her boyfriend, Mr. Oates, but like my smelly ass farts.

The night  was reallyjust one big old fahion faux paus. But not us. We looked hot, including McFly. BUT the first party we attended included a woman wearing knee pads. This is why community organizers should have wardrobe consultants. Otherwise they pair seersucker with kneepads. Pictures to follow. Also, they have ferns as big as Afghanistan that also is decored for the holiday occasion. SEERSUCKER! With KNEE PADS! That was the sign to go. So, that’s when I got nomimated totake back our booze contribution. It was Kettle One. You don’t leave perfectly good vodka at a party where there were pigs and a blanket and KNEE PADS. They don’t mix.

Stella points out I also grabbed a two liter of diet Sprite. And apparently it’s one thing to Indian give your top shelf alcohol, but it’s poor taste to reclaim your mixer. I say whatever. Drinking vodka straight in a taxi is tacky.

We went to Party Two, where I think we were at for a sum total of four minutes. Maybe because the median age was 16 and a half. That’s the point where I saw the whiskey. It was shiny and a MOTHER FING HUGE BOTTLE OF MAKER’S MARK. Stella thinks it was a two liter. She wants to know if handles come in multiples. It really was like a magnum of Maker’s Mark. I turned to Stella, who was serving as my partner in crime because District McFly was busy flilrting with a young version of Donny Trump.

Me: I want that whiskey.

Stella: (I think she said something, but I don’t recall what)

Me: I am taking that whisk

After Stella got done laughing at me for putting a double magnum in my Whole Foods bag (yeah, we roll with class), we ran out into the Land of Scary Bad Things (aka East of 12th Street, where no self=respecting gentrifier dares to go). We were wearing heels and designer clothes and carrying Kate Spade cluthcs and a Whole Foods bag full of party contraband. By a miracle of God we got a taxi. Stella might have thrown herslef into traffice to get it. I got booze, she acquired a get away car.

Next stop, Stella’s. That’s when we called every Chinese delivery place in a five mile radius only to find the Chinese take New Year seriously. Nobody was open at 11:26. So we walked next door for PIZZA! Lucky for us, Stella lives in the middle of all things Amazing and so we were saved. Also, we took a photo montage while we were waiting for the nice pizza man to cook our stuff. Will post later.

Then,ut Stella would like to discuss the photo shoot in more detail. There may have been 20 minutes where she and I engaged in drunk white girl gratiitous shelf portraits. She might have deep throated the giant jar of crushed red pepper flakes. But her eye makeup photographed well. Also, I think she put her leg up on the counter. And the pizza guy just watched the drunk madnees. I wanted my stolen whiskey.

The night ended with Carson, Ben and Jerry’s and pizza in bed. We are magnificent and loaded on stolen booze. Happy New Year!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Few Holiday Highlights

December 29, 2008

This year Little Sister was in charge of our traditional family Christmas Eve dinner. And the fact that I lived to tell about it indicates that she not only got the skinny-with-large-boobs gene and the genius-IQ gene, but the I-can-cook-like-Julia-Child gene. I must be destined to win the Mega Millions or maybe I’m going to achieve reality show fame. Because those are the only two things the Universe can give me to make up for the genetic shortchanging.

*******

In an attempt at jollying up Chez Apartment, I outlined my floor-to-ceiling windows with holiday twinkle lights. Bionic Kitty ate 14 of the bulbs and I suspect she mildly electrocuted herself. But she has yet to die. That cat is freaking immortal.

*******

I don’t understand why, despite repeated requests, nobody gave me the Unicorn. Please note, I will happily accept late gift submissions. Also, my birthday is in May, Webbernets. On the upside, I received 6 bottles of champagne from various clients. New Year’s will be bright and merry, followed by a brief stint in rehab.

*******

A few days ago, District McFly* and I went on a spree of holiday festiveness. We saw carolers, checked out the (strangely troll-filled) train display at Union Station and picked up some last minute gifts. Everything was going well and we were appropriately merry and Yule-ish until we set off for the National Christmas Tree on the Ellipse.

As we approached the Capitol, there was a tree, pimped out in bulbs and lights. Yet it had a Charlie Brownish feel to it. I turned to District McFly and asked if the pathetic fir was the National Christmas Tree. We looked at each other, and agreed: that was not the tree, because if it represented the best Congress could buy this year, then the economy was in worse shape than we thought. We walked some more, trying to figure out where the Ellipse was in relation to the Capitol Building. All the while, we attempted to suppress any tourist vibes we might be giving off. But after 15 minutes or so, no tree, no Ellipse, nothing. Finally, I decided to suck it up and asked the only other person in the area who wasn’t carrying a map and thus, was most likely to know where the tree was stashed. He informed us that the Ellipse is actually the front lawn of the White House.

Oh.

Despite four years of combined DC-residency, District McFly and I are still apparently unable to locate major national landmarks. I thought the Ellipse was near the Capitol and since I had unknowingly been appointed Holiday Excursion Guide, we had headed there. When I pointed out that I’ve only lived in DC for a year, and consequently can claim Landmark Stupidity, District McFly was all, “But I thought you knew where it was, Benevolent Leader,” and I responded, “Yeah, but you’ve lived here longer! You should have the Sightseeing Map programmed into your brain by now.” While we clearly share the innate ability to locate bars, vegetarian restaurants, and all-locations with favorable single men ratios, any other sense of direction or tourist-site awareness eludes us.

Eventually, we made our way to the Ellipse. And on the way, we took a montage of pictures. All of me and various trees, which I intend to use next year, when I get crafty and make holiday cards. The caption will be, “So NOT the National Christmas Tree.”

*District McFly asked me to explain a key aspect of name. McFly’s essentially short for My Carbon Footprint is Littler than Yours.