Just Because

Spider Solitaire is the devil! But I love it.

Interview Time

I interviewed for my graduate program. The time had finally come. It was sort of like pulling off a band aide. It stung at first but now it feels better. I did give myself a mad case of laryngitis from getting so nervous. I am just glad it set in 2 hours after the interviews ended.

Now I just have to wait until the letter comes in the mail. Every time I think about it my stomach flops like I am riding a rollercoaster.

Wish me luck lovelies!

How do you like your coffee?

I like mine black or with one splenda.
My Mom likes hers black with two sugars.
Tam likes hers with milk and one sugar.
Megs prefers a latte to coffee.
My grandpa likes his black, black, black.
My grandma likes hers no cream three sugars.
How do you like your coffee?

I just can’t get enough!

Wolf Parade.
Apologies to the Queen is without a doubt one of my top twenty favorites of all time. I am pretty positive my feelings for this album are not fleeting.
This album is indie-licious.
They are Canadian, as are a lot of other great bands, The Coast, Neko Case, Fiest, The Broken Social Scene, The New Porographers just to name a few.
Thank goodiness for Canadian Musicians, I heart you guys and gals.

Ode to Tissue with Aloe

Oh how my nose hath run
From this terible bought of nasal infection
Tissue with aloe you care
You sweep up
Clean up
Soak up
And I am sure are there for the occasional choke up
Thank you tissue with aloe
You insure I am not chapped
You fill nose with glee
You make it happy to touch, feel and see
If you did not have aloe I would be
Red and Chapped
Wishing I could pull my cap
Over my Rudolph red schnozzle

New Accent, RAD!

I read an article about this boy who survived a bought of spinal meningitis. Because of the meningitis he did have to go through brain. Once he woke from surgery he had a brand new accent. Now I think this is totally awesome. I feel bad that the kid had to become severely ill, but I think he was rewarded with something really bad ass, a poshy new British accent.

The article went on to discuss how this is not an isolated case, rather this happens, rarely, but none the less it happens. This phenomenon is called” Foreign Accent Syndrome” clever name, huh? This syndrome affects persons whom have had major brain trauma to the speech (Broca’s area) and facial movement areas of the brain. Strokes also induce this syndrome.

This article relaxes me in the sense that if I were to ever stroke out or have some type of traumatic brain injury and survive, I just might get lucky enough to recover my German and be freakishly awesome with some mad bilingual skillz.

Oh, Strange One

Readers this is strange. I identify my favorite color as green. I heart green. It is very aesthetically pleasing to my ocular system. However, I do not own very many green shirts, pants nor skirts. I also never pick out items that are green as my first choice. How very bizarre

Smell On

My olfactory system is great, at least I think it is great. It tells me when something good is cooking or when something has soured and is thus no longer palatable. My schnozzle also helps me out in the area of attraction. I must admit I love the smell of men. Men smell great! They smell better then fresh baked bread, mint, Chanel number 5, heck, some men smell better then Grapefruit (my favorite smell in the entire world).

Now that I have rambled about great smells, I’ll let you in on a secret, the stinker a guy is, the better he smells to me. WHAT!? Miss Murphy you gross girl you. Okay I am not talking about flatulence smell or stinky feet smell or even morning breath stink oh no, no, no. The odor I am referencing is …tee hee arm pit smell. I know this sounds terribly grotesque but to me there is no sexier smell that a guy can tout then that musky odor of sweat and pheromones mixed with their choice of deodorant.

I have had this smelly fetish for my entire life and I just learned this morning the explanation to it. Reader you are probably already assuming I am going to talk about pheromones, which I am to a degree but I am going to delve deeper into this. This smell that is so intoxicating can be traced to my genes. Crazy, my genetic make up makes me attracted to hairy, stinky, tall men! The gene or actually in my case lack there of is OR7D4 and according to an article I recently read, I lack this gene and that my reader is why post work out, no shower men are the sexiest beings on the planet to me. If I were to have one copy of this gene I would actually take no notice to pit smell or if I had two copies of it I would wretch at the smell of an odorific male.

Here are some others smells that are great: Grapefruit, Eucalyptus, Cheerio’s, Musky Basements, Old Books, Dark Black Moist Dirt, Powdered Cake Mix Vanilla Flavor, Puppies, Chlorine, and Sun Skin Smell (the way my skin smells after a day of hiking or playing out in the sun).

Capitalize, Monopolize and Socialize…

…on your Birthday. Happy Birthday to Toddthalamul. Tonight for Todd’s fun birthday adventure we decided to socialize and try to get him everything for free tonight. What can I say we are broke over worked college students?

We started the night at Joe Carrow’s but ended up leaving after only 5 minutes. The reason being no one offered to serve us and the staff was as usual sort of rude. We left and ventured east to Two Fool’s Tavern. Where Todd got lucky and got a free Guinness from the bartender. I drank a St. Peter’s Stout it was supa very tasty.

Next it was on to Kelly’s for more tasty beverage and greasy food items. We ordered the nachos and a pitcher of the Dunklewisen. Again delicious and perfect for the mouth(1) and tummy(8) Todd scored here as well with a free pint of outer space brew.

Fianlly it was onto Coldstone to sweet our pallets. Apparently Coldstone does not give out free scoops on your birthday (this really made me miss Baskin Robins .a.k.a 31 flavors). The last stop was at Hollywood video where Todd received a free rental on a film featuring scantily clad 18 year old girls fight with pillows. Over all I had a blast with TNT on T2’s birthday adventure!

To smit or not to smit?

If you love classic films from the early nineties then of course you love the flick “So I married an Axe Murderer” if you don’t, then you are surely missing out on some good times with your VCR. In this blog you will find a descriptor of a scene in the film. A great scene actually, a romantic one a terribly romantic movie scene that only Hollywood could produce. What I am thinking, handling and trying to communicate and also something to ponder about yourself as well remember personal growth is my new motto (no I am not taking this counseling degree too far)

The Scene: Very romantic; night stroll on a cool summer night in San Francisco.

The Characters: Mike Myers and Nancy Travis (leader Characters and great screen chemists)

The Prospectus: they are flirting, teasing and goofing around enjoying one of those early dates where everything is fresh and new and exciting still. You know the dates before the sex but usually fizzle out when sex in introduced to the ‘relationship’?

The Line: “Look, what can I tell you. I'm smitten. I'm in deep smit, I dunno. I just don't wanna talk about it, because then I start analyzing and that's not good for me.

My rational: This is sort of how I feel right now in my life . Except the scene is a little different. He has already declared his smittenness for me. So this should of made it easier for me to declare smit for him when I felt the smit hit me on one of our dates. But it didn’t. This declaration actually made me jump back a foot or two and pnder the price of bricks and mortor for about 35 seconds. I think this is the commitment phobic part of me that will at great times in a new or old relationship rear its ugly, sabotaging way and make me freak me out. Crazy self analysis and admission, Huh?

Kat concludes: After reading and rereading what I just wrote back to myself I just grasp a problem area in my personality. I believe in personal growth. You know what? I am smitten, I am in deep smit and I am not going to have a problem with this. SBA I am in great smit with you. See that was not as hard as I thought it was going to be. Now to find my cell..

Pondered Decisions

Life is one big decision "should I wear these heels with this skirt or; the boots with those jeans"? That is putting a decision into simple female transparent terms.
Tu comprendas?
The bigger decisions in life are a little more difficult to make. They take longer to dream, process and realize.
There are some decisions that one creates, does, and then contemplates. "Was that the right decisions", "Did I make the right choice", "Can I live with the choice that I've made"?
In my experience it is sometimes yes and sometimes no. If it was easy to make the decision and live with it; I shall continue my life in this state of "pondering decisions". I will make a choice with no regrets but I will occasionally let the decision sneak back into my conscious in which case i will ponder and release. Latter, rinse, repeat. I think that this essential to do occasionally especially so you can realize where you have been and who you are becoming.
Outlandish Statement of the Week: "Yeah, I got laid and I want ya'll to meet my new stallion...Supa Trippin Antisocial Lame Look'in Idiot (with)One Nut...Stallion baby, that is all a stallion really is."

Harriet Cricket Murphy vs. Mary-Jane Sunshine Cricket Murphy

******That was for Tam, in memory of our wonderful lazy Thursday******
I spent sometime today checking out music videos on youtube. I was going to change out the music videos on my myspace page but decided I would put them here on my blogspot instead.
I chose these videos because they are very ocularly pleasing, I dig, dig dig the song or because I thought it was quit the original concept. These are literally a feast for the eyes and a chock-full for the ears.

Ocularly pleasing:
The Decemberists - Los Angeles, I'm Yours


I dig, dig dig, the song:
Wolf Parade - I'll Believe in Anything


Original concept:
Keane - Is It Any Wonder

These are a few of my favorite things.

Watching the water aerobics class at the swimming pool. You know the classes that are composed of morbidly obese over 55 year-old women wearing floaties on their arms and bonnets on their heads?

My heart shutters a thunderous pitter patter when I see someone driving by picking their nose. This really gets me in the ticker.

New playlist on my myspace page check it out!

My Latest Girl Crush

My ladylove sold out on me. If you know me then you know who I am talking about. If you don’t know me then you probably think I am a lesbian right about now. Liz Phair. ‘How could she do this to me’, is something that I have been spouting since the release of her self-titled album in 2003. It was definitely not her best work. I figured by her next album she would pull out her guns and get back to her roots of kicking some major feminist ass. However, that was just not the case. Her 2005 album “Somebody’s Miracle” was in my opinion the ultimate sell out and thus the end of our love affair.
Well Miss Phair I have found a new ladylove. It was hard, but I can now say I am over you and on to someone new. Through my journey of healing I have sampled the flavors of very palatable young ladies: Jenny Owen Youngs, Rilo Kiley, Tegan and Sarah, Regina Spektor, and The Heartless Bastards . All of these ladies are incredibly talented! However, there is one particular lady that has stopped me in my tracks much like you did when I heard Supernova at the delicate age of twelve. Her name is Leslie Feist and she stopped me in my tracks with the song 1234. She has performed with Peaches as well as with the BSS. I think that Feist will be my new Indie Goddess at least for the time being.

The B.S.S.

I don’t know what it is exactly about the Broken Social Scene, but they pull at my heartstrings. I am not sure if it is their lyrics, musicianship, or the fact that they are Canadian. I first discovered them when I was in the height of my obsession with Brian Kinney a.k.a Gale Harold from Queer As Folk. The song ‘Lover’s Spit’ came on during a particularly romantic scene. Something about the song just resonated with me. Lover’s Spit is terribly perfect and romantic. After the episode was over I went to my computer and typed in the lyrics. I searched and searched to find out; who is this band, what is the name of the song? Finally, I was successful. I viewed, I heard, I searched, I conquered. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that I realized they had been under my nose the entire time…well in all actuality about 6ish months. My precious MP3 collection that Eric gave me for Christmas about 6ish months prior had on it one of their albums.
Then!
Yes, there is more coincidence. I was flipping through magazines that I had been saving (yes I am strange like that) and came across Spin magazines underdog issue from June 2004. Guess who was featured as an underdog, yep that is right you guessed it the Broken Social Scene.
For your ocular and auditory pleasure:
Lover’s Spit

Anthems for a 17 Year Old Girl

Pitter Patter Goes My Heart

Ode to Sandwiches

I love you my little tasty sandwich,
On wheat, on white, on rye,
I love you more then pumpkin pie,
I love you with mustard, with Dijon,
With lots of veggies or with almost nothing on,
I love you with buttered peanut and assorted jellies,
With Turkey, Tuna, and Tomatoes,
Dear my lovely sandwich, I love you anyway you are!

That is all.
Song of the Day: OK Go: A Good Idea At The Time.

Presentation, Demonstration, Facilitation, Improvisation

It is done!!! My presentation rocked! I am now calling myself an 'expert' in existentialist theory. I really like how I facilitated and demonstrated existential theory. I wrote a script that exemplified how a therapy session using existential theory would look. It was fun. My characters were the Leader, Ricky Martin, Cher and Paris Hilton. I contrasted it with a person centere theory therapy session. Success!
I feel accomplished.
School is great.
Music is great.
Weather is great.
I am off to have some sort of adventure in the sun.
Quote of the day: I am I; You are You; I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations; And you’re not in this world to live up to mine; I is I; And You is You.

Munday or Monday?

Last night me and the hommies were supposed to go to the Isotopes game. We were all looking forward to stuffing our faces with 50 cent hotdogs and chilling out on the grass enjoying America’s great pastime. Well that is not exactly what happened. At about 6:45 we decided that it was far to damp to venture out. That is right too damp in the desert, I love it! So we decided to have a hotdog party at T-N-T’s. We went to the store and bought all the goods as well as a bottle of Parrot Bay. When we (Meg and myself) returned to the pad Sheri and Lauren were there. Sheri was showing us her new “toy”, her brand spanking new breathalyzer. Sean D, Phil, Cecily, and Bender also showed up each one of them carrying with them a fifth or handle of spirits. Being the alcoholics that we are we decided to invent a new.

The game was who can blow the highest in the breathalyzer. Clever, right? I blew a .05 after my first drink which was a Diet DP with a shot of Jameson. Holy Cow! Everyone, including super tiny Lauren was only .03 after their first drink. I can’t really remember the exact numbers but I know that everyone made it to a little above .20 or higher. It was quite a silly night filled with hotdogs, shots and hilarity. This morning everyone puffed to see who was still holding onto their booze and apparently I was. I blew a .09 after 7 hours of sleep. I think I have a slow metabolism or something. T-N-T were both at .03 and Sheri and Lauren were both at 0.

Surprisingly, I was highly functional today. I finished my presentation that I have to give tomorrow, ran errands with Meg, and cooked another tasty meal for dinner. Overall not a bad day for waking up over the legal limit.
Song of the Day: Jason Collett: Hangover Days

Pitter Patter Dribble Drabble

Rain, rain go away come again some other day. Goodness the drizzle hath begun. I am a fan of the rain. I think it is super nifty. I do not like the lethargic reaction my body has to the rain. Also I do not like the pitter patter of the droplets on my face, I must have been Chinese water tortured to death in a past life or something.
Speaking of morbid
Last night I watched the creepiest show with my mom and Martin. It was the about the ‘things’ that could possibly destroy the earth and thus mankind. I only got through liquid hot magma spraying out caldera’s, a giant black hole sucking us up, a meteor running into the earth, and crazy robots and computers taking over before I decided I was pretty over thinking about the end of the world.
Speaking of end of the world…my graduate class is killing my desire to ever attend school again! I am so exhausted and I am only at the end of class meeting number 5. oh well, I must admit it is getting better. The content and process are finally starting to merge. I am becoming more comfortable with eye contact, and I am really great at synthesizing peoples positive and negative feedbacks as well as having full on nonverbal conversation with people across the room. Either that or I am finally telepathic... YES!
Tao of the Day: Opportunity: Life is an opportunity not an obligation.

Hip-Hip-Hurray

Where do I begin? How about at the very beginning? May thirteenth I was laying in bed, rolled over, and ever so lightly grazed my left breast. Much to my surprise I felt something, something I had never, ever felt before, a lump. I did not really panic. I just thought “wow that is strange, maybe I had too much caffeine today”. Monday the lump was still there. Tuesday the lump was still there, so I made Tam feel it to make sure I wasn’t being a hypochondriac and I wasn’t she felt it too. Wednesday the lump was still there, I made my mom feel it to make sure I wasn’t being a hypochondriac, and I wasn’t she felt it too. Wednesday afternoon my mom took me to urgent care to see what this thing was. The physician at the urgent care did little to cure my freaking out, if anything she just enhanced it by saying “you could be pregnant” she then proceeded to give me a pregnancy test which resulted in a false positive. ACK!

I walked away freaked out and still unsure as to what this lump in my breastical was. I made an appointment with a knocker specialist from UNMH in hopes that I would gain some insight into the inner workings of my hooter. My appointment came and I went. Dr McLikestoplaygolf said, “Yes, there is something in there.” No poop, anyone could of told me this, a bum off the street could of touched my booby and told me this!! He did rule some items out which was reassuring, but also terrifying. He said it was not a swollen lymph node, it was not a swollen mammary gland, and he said it did not really feel like a typical cyst. This devastated me. Those were the three that I was banking. He referred me to a radiologist at UNMH for an ultrasound and possible biopsy.

So I waited, and waited for my answers. I tried not to think about it, which did not work. All I wanted to think about was what was going on, what it could be, and of course contemplate the worst.

Finally they day came June first 2006. Radiology appointment. I made my mom take me just incase they had to stick needle in my boob and just incase it was bad news. My mom and I sat in the waiting area and I filled out paperwork. It is funny because the woman at the counter asked me why I was there and I said for an ultrasound and she said “sign in and sit down”. I then said I was in for an ultrasound on my breast and was told over the phone to come early to fill out paperwork. She responded by twisting her face into a strange expression and handing me a clipboard and some paperwork. I think she assumed I was knocked up or something. Note people: “ not all twenty something year olds are irresponsible and get knocked up”.

Once I was called I was taken into a little room. The ultrasound operator asked me to take off my shirt and bra, put on this very thin robe thing and lay down on the table. I think it is funny that medical professionals leave the room while you undress especially since they are going to see you and your nipple anyway, this is a professional setting ju-no? He came back, dimmed the lights, and poured some jelly on my ta ta. Sounds kind of erotic huh? He then proceeded to “explore” the inside of my boobical with his magic ultrasound thing. It was really neat looking; I was able to watch the whole thing on the screen! Well it was neat until he hovered over the lump. It was lightish gray and was the size and shape of an almond. He then stopped typed away at the ultrasound machine and continued on. He took a few more “snap shots” of the gray almond and then said he was going to go get the guy who was going to read it and tell me what was going on.

Dr. McBohemian came in and checked out the screen and said “there will be no biopsy”. YAY. He then said it is not “Breast Cancer”. Super YAY! He then said it appears to be a Fibroadenoma. YAY! Wait, what the heck it that? Well the short version is it is a benign tumor. He used the B word. I was happy, relieved, and happy. I left finally with some answers. I don’t feel like there is a giant elephant sitting my chest anymore.

Thank goodness for advanced medical technology and my damn great luck (I beat you this time Murphy).

For more information about Fibroandenoma visit this site:
http://www.healthatoz.com/healthatoz/Atoz/common/standard/transform.jsp?requestURI=/healthatoz/Atoz/ency/fibroadenoma.jsp

Thanks for reading,
Miss Murphy

Is it a Marathon or a Sprint?

I can’t believe it is almost May, the fifth month of the year! Where is time going? I suppose it is true what the elderly say, “after 18 it is just a landslide into menopause.” Ok maybe an elderly woman would say that, or maybe she would not. I think I would die of a stroke if I actually were to hear an elderly woman say that.

Anyhow back to the topic. Time. Where is it going? I have been reflecting on the past a little bit lately and I am realizing that after I graduated from college time just started rapidly escaping me. How? Why? Who? What? Where it is going?! I feel like I am still 21 years old when in fact I am now 24. Where did those three years go? I want them back because they went too fast.

I really want time to slow down. I want to enjoy every single second of my life. I want to feel every moment of my life. I want to do things in my time and not feel pressured. I think we live in such a rushed society. “Hurry up grow up” “hurry up and finish college so you can start your nine to five”, “hurry up invest in the market”, “hurry up get married and have kids, get a dog and a mini van”!!! Society pushes us to move way too fast. I think that the Planet has actually started to spin faster to keep up with us and our internet super highways and Intel rapid processing chips.

What about the lollygaggers? I am a lollygagger. I just want things to roll on at a smooth/steady/slow to moderate pace. What is the point in rushing my life away it is already going too fast. Note: I don’t mind having to sprint to catch up on things in life because I was too unhurried. But I think the things that I will have to catch up on will be later in life… okay except my graduate application(s) to UT, UWS, UNM and GRE I will be sprinting on both of those, no doubt about it.

I do not think that our civilization, planet, or life style will ever slow down, in fact I speculate that it will just keep going faster and faster until it is spinning so out of control that we get off kilter and fly straight into the sun. So that more then likely will never happen. I guess if everything won’t slow then I will have to hurry to catch up. Let me put on my Wonder Woman t-shirt and New Balances and get out there at a moderate to rapid pace (my lollygagging self can comprise).

Drunk Crows and Stalking Foxiness

So I am currently obsessed with the song Catch Me Up by Gomez. I am not sure if it is the groovable musical styling’s (guitar, bass, keyboards), Ben Ottewell’s incredibly unique sexy voice, or if it is the hopelessly romantic lyrics.

What could be cuter then “I am but a fool for you, that's right”? Not a whole heck of a lot except possibly “You know I want to please you”. Shoot me over the moon!

This man’s voice is incredible, their musicianship is incredible, and their lyrics are incredible!

…Now on to the creativeness of the music video.

Not really too much of a love song is it? Or is it?

I really like how the song and the video disconnect. It is not a true disconnect in the sense that the Little Crow guy is pining after the Fox and the Fox is in return chasing him around so there is a bit of the cat and mouse, crushing, lovie dovie thing going on in there, which does make it somewhat of a love song video. But she eats him alive in the end! IS that what lust is all about? Is that what love songs are all about? Is that what love song videos are all about? Does it always eat you alive?

Deliberate on this: Does love eat you alive? That was my very first reaction upon viewing this cute cartoon. Is that the message that those UK boys were conveying? For some reason I think that is a lot more to it then that, at this point I am not ready to answer these obscure questions. I need to mull this one over for a while.

Moral of the Story and Tip of the Day: If you are a little crow guy and she is a sexy fox watch out, she might just eat you alive. Proceed with caution.

Wants? Needs? Why’s? Oye, the questions!

What is the world coming to?
Lesbian communities perk thy ears. Doctors can now make ‘sperm’ out of bone marrow. That means you and your partner do not need a donor and the infant will truly be a part of you both. Sexy!
I have to ponder. Why do we do these things?
In the words of Fiona Apple expressing her breaking of men’s hearts her reasons for doing so: just because she can
Are we a society that does things just because we can’?
Do we function as a society and civilization because we can or because we want to?
I am thinking because we can. We have enabled ourselves thus so far.
What happened to the want in life?
In the words of Eric Cartman: “I do what I want”
I want to love you because I can (see we don’t need to do away with can all together)
But then again how do we know what we really want?
I want a cookie. Is that really a want or a dire need?
Yes, a need, there I said it. Let me explain, I say need because we need the glucose to feed our brains so that we can breath and our hearts can pump and we can drive the few blocks to Flying Star to get that cookie that we need the glucose from. Interesting to think about, no?
So is life then just really about needs?
So, if it is all about needs then I question again: Why do we want?
The book I am reading “Stumbling on Happiness” that details why we want things, and how this wanting of things, and then the inevitable satisfaction of having these things doesn’t please use. He connects it all to the fact that we have Frontal lobe function which separates us from the chimps, snails and finches.. Our frontal lobes allow us the ability to constructively plan for possible future events and to put expectations of ourselves in the future right before our eyes (well actually right behind them, tee hee hee. Gosh! I am geek for neurology). Fascinating shit I tell you.
When I heard the title of this fine book I was a little scared that it was a self-help book because of the title. And boy! I am too young and awesome to read self-helps books, just yet. (Now that I cleared that up) bestestest book I have picked up in awhile.
Thanks for reading about my crazy thoughts.

My life is absolutely compelling!

I am very merry, merry happy right now.
Life is great.
Work is great.
Friends are great.
New Music is great; heck for that matter old music is great!

Voyeurism

Noah Kalina

Clever and wonderful display of human life progression.

Creation of Personality

Surveys are interesting. I think they can convey a lot about a persons personality. You can tell whether or not a person is flirty, clever, honest, sarcastic, overly sexual or just a plain asshole by their style and tone of their responses. I feel that these are all masks that people put on as a way to depersonalize themselves on the internet super highway of life. Or is it the internet super highway that is depersonalizing us? I think we all have a certain persona, and sometimes we cannot express that in real life. Real life is far too judgmental at times, especially if we are not yet comfortable with ourselves, or feel that everyone is just not comfortable with the real us. I suppose at times it may be easier to take on another personality. If I recall isn’t the conjuring of another personality often called disassociative identity disorder…hummm interesting.

I already know that I try to be really sarcastic in my surveys…but I try to be sarcastic in an honest way. I speak the truth, but I present it in a sarcastic way. Ponder what that means about my personality? I think it means that I have no problem with honesty, but I don’t want my honesty to make me look like a vulnerable fool. I think I add the element of sarcasm to my surveys to save my precious, precious ego. ::Interesting insight to Miss Murphy:: Now I am wondering if everyone who fills out surveys does the “safe ego” approach.

My suspicion is yes, the better majority of people do take on take some persona when it is survey time. I can say yes because I know quite a few goofs whose surveys I read very frequently and they are definitely not who they appear to be in the surveys. I also have one friend who answers them as though he were speaking directly to you. He is very blunt in person and very frank in his responses; he does not lay on the persona.

Overall, I find this to be a very interesting topic. Probably because we are talking about personalities! And I am a freak for personalities, especially atypical ones. Maybe I am just being over analytical, maybe people just have fun creating responses on surveys and this is not as highly interesting as I am currently finding it to be? Meh, who knows? I am not an expert.

Sexy thought of the day: Instead of asking someone “what is your sign” you should ask, “what is your survey persona”. So Sexy!

I am a farm gal at heart

Today I experienced something that I never thought I would experience. Are you ready to know what I experienced? Sure you are you wouldn’t still be reading if you weren’t. Today I gave CPR to a baby chicken. That is right folks, humanitarian Kat put her lips to the beak of a drown baby chick. One word: Sexy.

Now you are probably asking yourself several questions:

1. Are you up to date with your rabies shots?
2. Where did you find a baby chick?
3. How did the chick drown?

Megan my cousin and myself decided to head down to our Uncle Bert’s farm in the south valley to see all of the new babies that have popped out to greet the spring weather. We were sitting out with Uncle Bert when Megan noticed that one of the baby chickens that were pecking around had gone MIA. She asked, “Where is the other chick”? Bert responded he is probably drowning in the goat’s water trough. I stood up and walked over there with much trepidation about what I was about to see. Well low and behold there was the little fellow bobbing, lifelessly in the water trough. My first instinct was to scoop him up and start mouth to beak. WEIRD! I blew air into his little beak and then squeezed his little chest several times. At this point Uncle Bert was telling me to bring him over and was starting the car, while Megan was getting a towel from the house. Uncle Bert cranked the heater in the car, wrapped the little guy who now appeared to be shallowly breathing in the towel and placed him on the dash near the heater. He explained that chickens don’t really drown, they suffer rapid hypothermia that paralyses them and then they drown because they are no longer staying afloat from their fluttering, because duh they can no longer flutter. After several minutes in the car the little chick opened his eyes (and probably thought to himself “shit bitch what is this, hell?) We moved him from the car to a nice sunny patch on top of the grain cooker and there he stayed for the next twenty minutes. After twenty minutes he was completely dry and ready to join his mother and his sibling. He appeared to be just fine though he had just narrowly dodged death.

Megan and I named him Jesus "Gomez" Chrichick after all it is Palm Sunday.

Here she be

That is correct; Kathryn hath decided to start her very own blog. Is my life really interesting enough to maintain a blog? I think so, I’ll try it out, see how it feels, and right now it is feeling quite comfy, not too prickly nor too rigid.

Life is like a game of cards. The hand you are dealt is determinism; the way you play it is free will

-Jawaharlal Nehru