Bluegrass Bands + Hippie Dancing = Blinding Rage

Oh my, folks, what could possibly ruin the enjoyment of seeing your college buddy playing mandolin in a bluegrass band on a Sunday, while drinking beer with long-lost bandmates?

You already know the answer: goddamned hippies dancing in the corner. I mean, come on. And this wasn't some outdoor festival - it was a freaking Irish pub. They had to pay a cover, for chrissakes -- they came on PURPOSE.

I couldn't even look, but my husband assures me that they somehow managed to dance to a COMPLETELY different rhythm than the actual music blaring from the speakers. And one of them didn't even clap - she just kind of waved her hand around in the air. Maybe clapping was too "corporate" for her. My husband's theory is that she was invoking the Spirit of the Goddess.

The most amazing thing was that these guys were really, really trying to be hippies. They were older, with long hair and beards, yes, but well-trimmed long hair and beards, implying that they have actual jobs and are not just annoying college students. Okay, I have to stop writing, because even the MEMORY of these jackasses is filling me with rage so blinding, I can't even see the keyboard.


Good thing I took those typing classes in high school.

Introductory Fake Interview Goodness!

Alright kiddies, it's time for your favorite get-to-know-me treat! That's right: the FAKE INTERVIEW!

Fake Interviewer: So, monkeys eating tacos? Doesn't the web have enough random wackiness?

Kate: No really, I saw this once! Seriously! I was dropping my dogs off at this kennel/farm owned by some ex-hippie types. I guess they really liked animals, because they had all sorts of crap -- horses, pigs, llamas, guinea fowl, couple of dogs, and a monkey named Pippin. Knowing they had the monkey was half the reason I went there at all - I mean, how often will my dogs get sight of a monkey? So I dropped the dogs off with unfortunately so monkey-related drama. But as I left the barn, there he was, sitting on top of a car with an open moonroof, calmly munching a taco from taco bell. Just the tortilla really. And there were little monkey prints on the car hood.

FI: Huh. So, you have dogs?

Kate: Yes, two: Maddy and Roger.

FI: Roger?

Kate: That was my husband's idea. I wanted to name him Kevin.

FI: Favorite Beatle?

Kate: Um, Paul? Yeah, I'll go with Paul.

FI: Really? Paul?

Kate: What's wrong with Paul?

FI: That's so... cliche.

Kate: Shut Up.

FI: So why do you have a blog?

Kate: Well, I always secretly hoped that one day, after I die, someone would find my journals and discover what an amazing, hilarious, insightful genius I am. And my journals would be published and I'd be famous. But that would require actually writing things in a book, and my hand cramps after a few minutes. Also, I wouldn't get to enjoy being famous, so I thought, why wait?

FI: .....That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.

Kate: Screw you.

FI: Alright, I'm totally bored by this. Last question: Can you believe that the "L-Y" song isn't on the new Electric Company DVD?

Kate: No.

Wasn't that fun! Okay, next thing to look forward to on this blog: I might find the cord for my camera and post some damn pictures! Don't hold your breath though!

So corny, yet so awesome

Okay, so it's true. I have a pretty damn cool husband. Yesterday he saw something in an antique store that reminded him of dear sweet me. So he bought it.

And what was this token purchased in my honour?

A $0.50 "Surprise Bag". I'm not sure what 50-cent surprises and I have in common, exactly.

Since I know you're all dying of suspense, the bag contained:

• a used pink eraser that said "(B)oner Jared",
• a small plastic figurine of a purple alien holding a basketball, and
• a keyring that has a small plastic skateboard, half of a metal yin-yang, a small metal flower, and half of a geode attached to it.

The saddest part is that I loved it. Nothin' like a half-buck's worth of crap scraped from the bottom of some kid's bookbag to make me happy.