Friday Blog Love

This is not so much Blog Love as it is a Blog Post Love.  Sometimes I obsessively google Ryan Gosling, and this post always comes up...and...I couldn't have said it better myself.  Enjoy.

My favorite part: 

"Did you hear that loud boom in the far off distance? Those were my ovaries exploding." 

Check it out!






Here's some more info about the author, lifted from HelloGiggles.com.  

Meghan O'Keefe is a comedian and writer who lives in New York and likes pandas. Follow her on Twitter & Tumblr!  
See more posts from Meghan

Summer-isms, Vol. 28

"...and that's why you should never trust a man who loves you."


"That sounds SO smelly."


"My back cracks so good since I got cupped."


"...cuz you can take an ugly picture of yourself and look really pretty."


"My teeth were so straight five hours ago."

Podcast Wednesday! The Meanwhile, Part 2

This week's podcast clarifies what exactly is a tube of cotton balls...and how to "Treat Yo'Self" on a budget.

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"Tube of cotton balls".  DUH

Time for More Feminist Ryan Gosling

(Click on the photo for more...)

Sunday Favorites: The Maggot

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing?  You've missed SO MUCH.  Not to worry.  Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite.  Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day.  Enjoy!  This story first appeared on December 25, 2008:


So I had some friends over to watch Arrested Development and eat all day. And that's what we did and it was super fun. And then we also watched Son of Rambow. (really good.) At some point during the movie, my friend Kay turned to me and said, "gross Kady you have something in your hair. It looks wet." He was like, "I'm not going to touch it but give me your finger and I'll point to it with your finger. It looks like a maggot."

I'll save you the trouble of doing a Google Image Search for "maggot":

A maggot?!  EW!!!  So I recoiled in horror and yanked my finger back out of his hand. Then he said, "OK I'll just get it." Then he stuck his finger in my hair and pulled it out. 

When I saw what was in his hand it jogged my memory and I faintly remembered rubbing my nose and then touching my hair...

THERE IN HIS HAND WAS MY BOOGER. MY WET BOOGER.

Poop Bucket

Recently a friend told me a very awesome and humiliating story about going to the doctor for a gastrointestinal issue. Apparently the doctor or lab tech or whoever gave her a paint-bucket-type contraption to collect her number two and bring it back for "examination" the next day.

She was confused and asked him how full he wanted her to fill it.  "Like, if it gets near the top, should I smoosh it down a bit?  To get the top on?  Maybe you should give me two paint buckets."

"No, you probably won't need two."

"You better give me two."

"I'll tell you what, if you need a second bucket you can come back and get a second bucket.  But for now, just take the one home and use that."

This argument went on for several minutes and finally she got frustrated and went home.  Exasperated, she complained to her husband that the dumb guy wouldn't just give her two buckets.

"How many times do you poop in a day?"  Her husband asked.

"One."

--

"OH."

She was so embarrassed she didn't go back the next day.

"Fill 'er up!"

<

Friday Blog Love

How was your week?

I did my taxes (all by myself), inherited two huge bags of summer clothes (thanks, Prettiest Sister) and finally made an appointment for a checkup with the lady doctor.

This week's blog love goes out to Jen Pollack-Bianco of My Life's a Trip.  I love reading this blog because she's who I aspire to become.  She's been to 74 countries, has two film degrees and writes/travels for a living.

She has contributed to The Huffington Post, the Los Angeles Times and others, and her photos are amazing.

Check her out!

Podcast Wednesday! "The Meanwhile, Part 1"

You're saving for a big trip.  Need some money-saving pointers?  Want to hear the Siren and the Lady talk some more?  What the heck is "The Meanwhile"?  Hit play:

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One Time, on the Band Bus

Back in 8th grade, we band kids had to take a bus from the high school over to the middle school for band practice.  My buddies at the time were Tara and Beth and we had lots of adventures on that bus.

For example, one day we got it in our heads that we were going to play a mean mean joke on our other friend Petrina.  It was brilliant.  You see, the high school sold tampons and pads that came in cardboard boxes for 25 cents.  Well, the middle school had machines that sold them for 10.  So the three of us brought every single dime we could find to school one day and Tara brought her backpack to band and we completely filled it up.  The plan was that we would fill Petrina's locker so full with pads and tampons that when she opened it they would all fall out and she would be embarrassed and everybody would think she had her period!  (p.s. that plan went off without a hitch.  In fact some of the pads slid across the hallway into the senior Accounting class.  Success!)  What a bunch of bullies.  Anyway, we got the pads and tampons and on the bus on the way back to the high school I loudly asked Tara what was in her backpack.  "NO." she glared at me, begging.  

"Seriously, what's the backpack for Tara?"  

Beth and I were dying and so was Tara but not from laughing when I opened her backpack and showed the whole bus what Tara had in her backpack.  I think that was the one and only time she ever swore at me.

Another time I was sitting with my forehead on the bus window looking out, and maybe it was raining, and the Bette Midler song "From a Distance" happened to be playing on the radio.  I was absent-mindedly but seriously and pensively singing it quietly out the window.  Beth and Tara thought that was hilarious and made everybody on the bus silently come and look and I never noticed them because I was so into the singing.  I'm not sure I ever recovered from that one and I still sort of recoil in horror thinking about singing "God is Watching Us" repeatedly, over and over a thousand times out the band bus window.

Years later I found out that Beth's saxophone mouthpiece was broken and the entire year we were busing back and forth to band practice she was just pretending to play.

One day we got a special treat and went to Dairy Queen.  We pulled the bus right up next to a couple of guys in a sweet red convertible.  Beth slid the big yellow school bus window down, looked at the two guys, and shouted a line I still use to this day when-I-pull-up-next-to-anybody-in-a-car-cooler-than-mine,

"Hey!  Want a ride?"

Thanks for Nothing, Netflix.

So I went over to my sister Keri's place last weekend, excited to spend the whole time laying on her deck and watching movies. Thanks to Netflix and their plethora of crap movies available on streaming, we didn't find much. I do get a kick out of the descriptions though...

"Tulip farmer and friend to organized crime Dad Savage hires two of his son's friends to lend him a hand with his business."

Here's IMDb's description:

"Six people become embroiled in mayhem and murder when Dad Savage attempts to determine who murdered his son and stole his stash of cash."

Tulip farmer?  Embroiled in mayhem?  Patrick Stewart?  Yes, please!

OR: How about this one?

"In the third movie in the K-9 series, unorthodox police detective Dooley and his independently minded, superbly trained and lovable canine partner, Jerry Lee, are back to solve one last crime before they retire and start enjoying the good life."

IMDb: 

"Dooley and his K-9 partner Jerry Lee are ready to retire from the police force. But before he can retire with his pension he must work as a P.I. to find a set of high tech computer chips."

High tech computer chips.  

Stephen Baldwin and Tom Beringer star alongside DENNIS RODMAN in this movie, which Netflix calls "Exciting, Suspenseful."

"To catch two of America's biggest drug smugglers, a customs agent goes undercover as a competitive skydiver. He soon realizes, however, there's more to skydiving than just jumping from a plane: There's a rush that's intoxicating ... and addictive."





I couldn't even find this one on IMDb.  Go figure.

Sunday Favorites: Blackheads and Chiefs

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing?  You've missed SO MUCH.  Not to worry.  Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite.  Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day.  Enjoy!  This story first appeared on November 7, 2008:

One of my obsessions in life is blackheads. I have often been accused of not paying attention to someone speaking because I am actually staring at their blackheads and dreaming of extracting them. That accusation is fair and correct.  I spend about 15 minutes in the mirror every morning and every night pinching every single thing on my face and pinch the backs of my arms whenever I am wearing short sleeves.

So it was a natural career choice at seventeen for me to go into massage. I had lots of older clients who had awesome monster blackheads on their backs and using massage oil, I could usually ease the stuff out without anybody being the wiser. This is disgusting and embarrassing to admit, but I would sometimes put the awesome extractions on my little massage shelf so I could look at them later. 

ICK I am so gross!

Anyway, one day I had a client who just so happened to be the Chief of the Fort Frances Canada tribe of Native Americans. He had a huge rock lump volcano crusty blackhead on his right shoulder. I massaged it and massaged it even though it was nowhere near a muscle. I must have worked on it for quite some time, because pretty soon the Chief goes, "What? Do I have a blackhead?"

I was mortified. No one had ever busted me before this! I recoiled in horror, unable to muster anything in response.  Finally I stammered...

"What's a blackhead?"

Hilarious. In My Dreams.

I was laying in bed with Brad Pitt in my dream last night.  You see, I was in the bed because he and Angelina Jolie offered for me to sleep on the fourth floor spiral staircase tower but when I got up there it was only barstools and totally windy I was afraid of heights, so the only other place for me was in the bed next to Brad Pitt, obviously.  We were only looking at a photo of him and a bunch of kids lined up on some 1970's basement stairs.  In the back, there was a framed picture that said, Minnesota.  I was hilarious when I said *out of the side of my mouth, in 1930s-newspaper-worker-accent and with hand up like a mock Vlassic pickle*, "Minnesota?  I'm pretty sure I've been in that basement."  He laughed.

Angelina Jolie came in the room and jumped to an incorrect conclusion.  She was wearing a very strange outfit.  When I saw it, I quipped *out of the side of my mouth, in 1930s-newspaper-worker-accent and with hand up like a mock Vlassic pickle*, "Wow, that outfit is like equal parts Rosie the Riveter, G.I. Joe, and Pippi Longstocking."  Then she dramatically loaded a double barrel shotgun -- the kind you bend in half to put the shells in -- and I begged her not to shoot me but she did anyway.  Right in the shoulder and even in the dream it hurt real bad.

I started to sort of scream and make weird noises, and then I decided that was embarrassing and cut it out.  As I was bleeding to death, I asked them if they didn't mind if I called my mom.  I called her, dying, laughing about how I was totally calling from BRAD and ANGELINA's cell phone.  I told her I was  probably dying but still cracking jokes about ending up in some gossip magazine like the Star Trib (even in my dream I realized this was in error) in a weird love triangle that didn't exist.

Then Angelina Jolie ran outside like a crazy person and threw the shotgun in the snow.  I looked at Brad and said, *out of the side of my mouth, in 1930s-newspaper-worker-accent and with hand up like a mock Vlassic pickle* "that's a really bad idea", and we laughed.

"Kady, you are hiLARious in your dreams."

Friday Blog Love

Today's Friday Blog Love goes out to Lauren of Fizgiggery.  She's British, she makes sculptural jewelry over at Flaurena, and has a site totally dedicated to her dog Banjo at Shyhound.

I think she's adorable.  

Check out this series of posts from the Great American Roadtrip she took with her husband and Banjo from New York to San Diego...

...and this great post about Travel Sanity.

See?  Adorable.

Summer-isms, Vol. 27, Podcast Edition

"I feel like IPA is medicine, thats a bad attitude isn't it?" 

"Hobos are getting really trendy right now."

"My feet smell like corn chips."

"It doesn't smell like a burp it smells like a meal." 

"I'm proud of this. I think?"  

"God, we're interesting." 

Two Peas in a Podcast

Yesterday a reader commented, "I want to sell tickets to you talking."  Well, good news, "Dan": here are five minutes of me talking with Summer from Hobo Siren.  


And it's free!  *(do not buy tickets from Dan)

Hit play, (laugh) and stay tuned for upcoming episodes, every Wednesday.

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Kady's Dating Tips

One Thursday night, after working 13 hours, I made the bad decision to go to the sports bar across the parking lot from my office to take advantage of their free drinks between 10 - 11pm. I ordered an IPA, tipped $1 and congratulated myself on my frugality. But then I also realized my folly.

I was alone in a packed bar. There wasn't anywhere to sit and pretend to be content, but I couldn't leave after fourteen seconds. I started walking slowly toward the door. As I did, I saw a couple of sixty-somethings. I butted into their conversation and invited myself to sit in the empty chair at their table. We ended up chatting for two hours and of course the conversation morphed into a therapy session about why a beautiful girl like me doesn't have a boyfriend. I over-shared as usual and they diagnosed me quite correctly as a saboteur.  

I was reminded of a few specific incidents in my life...

• One time, when complimented on my pajama pants by a very attractive man, I told him how just weeks prior I had gotten super sick from an amoeba in Guatemala and pooped them.
• Who could forget this gem of professionalism and man-catching magnitism?
• Another time, another very attractive man told me that he thought I looked great that day. I told him he wouldn't say that if he knew the huge turd I was brewing.  And then I drew an imaginary circle around my colon.
• And in a particularly embarrassing-to-admit moment, a cute boy once approached me at a party and when he started getting close, I panicked, pointed to my ear and said "I'm deaf", in the deaf-people accent.

I'm going to die alone.

Sunday Favorites: Bici-Moto

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing?  You've missed SO MUCH.  Not to worry.  Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite.  Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day.  Enjoy!  I wrote this story when I was living in Costa Rica.  It first appeared on January 30, 2011:

I bought a motorcycle today.  A new car, if you will.  As in, "Nicole, should we take my car, or yours?"

Really it's just a bicycle with a 2-stroke gas/mixed with oil engine attached to it.  BiciMoto.  Pronounced "Bee See Moto".  You have to hold in the clutch, pedal like a madperson, then let out the clutch a little bit and give 'er the gas.  Then vinn ninn ninn ninnnnnn you're on your way.  Wohmmmm chicka wohnmmmm.  Mom, type me dad's response in the comments please.  I'm dying to hear what he has to say about this bad decision.

It's a Deal! 

This isn't going to be funny anymore when I really do die on this thing.

Notice the welded re-bar surf board holder.  Well, I don't have a surf board.  Some ideas I had about what to put there instead:

1) pieces of wood for fires on the beach

2) a painting

3) donut ring-toss game

4) French baguettes

I rode it home a thousand miles (read: 10 miles) from Tamarindo to our apartment in Huacas, and it was pretty terrifying.  The thing goes 40 miles per hour.  I rode it smack dab in the middle of the lane.  If you wanna pass me, cars, you're gonna have to like wait and then pass.  I ain't gonna move over and have you run me down...not on this death trap.  I swear the wind almost knocked me out a couple of times.  I stopped at two shops on the way to buy a helmet but the best they could conjure up was a curved piece of styrofoam that straps under the chin.  No thanks, I'll hold out for something a little more stylish effective.

What a blast!

....and my dad's response in the Comments:

"Now, do we have to sit and worry about someone finding you impaled on those cockamamie cow catchers? If you fall, you might wanta fall to the left."

January 30, 2011 7:52 AM 

Don't Play Jokes on my Husband Ryan Gosling, He is Way Too Sensitive

So Ryan Gosling and I were talking last night (he hates it when I write about him and he would die if he knew I posted these photos, so don't tell him!) Anyway, I was saying that I think we should name our babies in alliteration, like in my family, you know: Kim, Keri, Kelly, Kady and Kasey. My sister Kasey did it with Miles, Murphy and Miyo. Why shouldn't we?

He's so cute when he's all tired and cozy.

Anyway Ryan Gosling was like, "Kady. I thought we talked about this. You said you don't even want kids. Why do you always have to name the babies we're never going to have, and then tell me all the stuff you're never going to let them do, and then talk about how they're going to be forced to do tap lessons? And YES. By the way. It IS wrong to purposely break a child's leg just because you think they look cute in a cast. And if we DID have kids, NO we are NOT going to put them in the DRESSER DRAWER instead of a crib. I don't CARE what they're doing in Africa. Are you telling me you want kids? It's like, either you want them or you don't. I'm so confused." and blah blah blah. 

So I had to tell him. Check out his reaction. Ryan Gosling freaked out! "You're pregnant! OMG! I can't believe it! I'm so happy!" And then he kept saying stuff like, "I knew it! Your boobs* have been so HUGE lately. And you eat SO much.  You eat like you haven't eaten in weeks. Wow. Kady, seriously, I have secretly wanted to have tons and tons of kids with you but I pretended not to care because you seemed so dead set against it." and blah blah blah.

And then I was like (and this broke my heart just a little bit), "Psych! Just kidding." And then Ryan Gosling kind of got sad. He totally started crying, but I won't post that photo. That would be mean. Gosh, now that I'm telling the story I totally feel really bad for the poor guy.

And then he was all, "That is not funny."

*Hal would like to object to my use of the word "boobs" in this post.

Miyo's Got More Sense in Her Little Finger Than I Do in My Whole Head

Come to think of it, I am a pretty good Auntie.

For example, last Sunday I took my little Meeps out for an Auntie-Niece Mani-Pedi.

Look at this adorable little kid Pedicure massager chair/tub!

"Hey Miyo, isn't this relaxing?  You better look like you're relaxed."

I asked Miyo if she wanted to do a T-Pain song with me like little Ayla and she said,

"no! Because then you'll show everyone and I don't want people knowing stuff about me."

Thanks T-Pain Autotune App, You're Making me the Coolest Auntie Ever.

And Ayla isn't even my niece.

Albatross, Schmalbatross

So in my Forbes interview, (did I mention my Forbes interview?) I talked about how one of the benefits of traveling alone is that there's nobody to judge you for holing up in a hotel room and watching TV for 48 hours.

That actually happened.

On the South Island of New Zealand, I was staying with friends of friends of friends of friends (I told you, don't be afraid to invite yourself!)  When I suggested to my host Kiri that she join me as I rented a car and toured the South Island, she lamented that she couldn't make it but instead gave me her car, a cooler, a woolen hat, a map, a 9-day itinerary and sent me off to see the Island by myself.  

I drove and drove and toured ancient breweries and floated down fjords and hiked icy glaciers and rode the famous Queenstown Luge and by the time I made it up to a little city named Dunedin I was a little exhausted.

Learning the proper pour, Montieth's Brewery, Greymouth

On the chairlift on the way up to Luge, Queenstown

Hiking the glacier, Franz Joseph/Fox

Dinosaur Egg Boulders, Moeraki

In Dunedin, Kiri hooked me up with two nights in a free hotel room courtesy of her employer.  I was excited because I had been staying in hostel dorm rooms with sometimes stinky and snore-y girls and boys from places like England and Israel -- in fact it had been two months since I had spent a night alone.  I was totally ready for a little privacy.  

I could never have been prepared for the scene as I turned the key and opened the door to my room.  White crisp linens.  Down duvet.  Flat screen TV.  Cable.  PRIVATE BATHROOM.  Fridge.  Microwave.  Coffee. 

As I put my backpack down, I said out loud, "I will not leave this room until it's time to check out."  And I didn't.  (Fortunately I had the cooler with food.)  I watched TV.  I blogged.  I checked Facebook.  I  took hours-long luxurious showers using every free product on the sink, shaved my legs and then checked Facebook again, in case anything happened.  I napped.  I Skyped all four of my sisters and my mom.  It was delicious.

Yes, I missed the Albatross. (Dunedin is one of the only places in the world where the Albatross can be seen from mainland.)  Oh yah.  And I didn't care.  Instead, I googled Albatross* and looked at photos of them in my underwear as I deep-conditioned my hair for an hour wrapped in a hot wet towel.

The scene of the crime.

*According to http://www.albatross.org.nz/:

The latest Lonely Planet publication 1000 Ultimate Sights features the Royal Albatross Centre alongside the Taj Mahal and Grand Canyon. They say of us: Here at one of New Zealand's hottest attractions the draw card is the birdlife. Taiaroa Head is the site of the world's only mainland royal albatross breeding ground, where you can observe the spectacle of the albatrosses with wingspans of up to 3m coming in to land like a succession of 747s.

Summer-isms, Vol. 26

"I meet a lot of dudes."

"You're a HUNdred."

"That's what bumpers are for."

"I think if I was Dolly Parton, I would never feel lonely or sad ever again."

"Unless it's chihuahua hats, I don't care."

Sunday Favorites: Motorscootin!

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing?  You've missed SO MUCH.  Not to worry.  Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite.  Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day.  Enjoy!  This story first appeared on May 3, 2010:




What's the dumbest thing you can do on a trip to SE Asia without travel insurance or health insurance or proper licensure?  Why, rent a motorbike of course!

Our hotel in Noppharat Beach offered motorbikes for rent for 200 BAHT per day.  This is a fraction of the cost of taxis, or tuk tuks, or buses and even with gas we spent approximately $28 for 3 days or about $9 per day.  We agreed it was the best purchase of our trip.  I spent that on that Zeitoun book at the Singapore airport for gosh sakes.  So, the motorbike offered us: freedom, a fan, a ride, an element of danger, and a ticket out of our sleepy little beach town.

Here are some things we saw on our lil' motorbike:

See the part of the strap that is plastic and big?  It goes on your chin, but we hadn't figured that out yet.  And when we did, we wished we hadn't because it was like harvesting zits on purpose.

This statue was like 10 feet tall.  And 30 feet wide maybe more.  I'm not good at judging size, but I stood next to the statue and didn't come up to the shoulder. 

Our hotel offered us "elephant trekking" for $50 each.  We couldn't afford that, but then happened upon an elephant trekking place which let us feed their elephant some bananas for $1.50.

'Twas scary.

Roadside food markets.

Yes it was scary, and we had a few near misses.  But it was so well worth it.  SO well worth it.  I'm only saying that because now it's over and we lived.  And by the way drove on the freeway at 48 miles per hour.   One time, Summer turned into the right lane because she wasn't used to left side driving yet, and I put my hands on her shoulders and tried to turn the bike with her shoulders.  We took turns driving.  It was better to be the driver, because then your life was in your own hands.  Summer felt the same.  I had a hard time with the starting and the stopping and the turning, but on the straightaways I was genius!