Tag Archive: *nsync


Besides doing homework all weekend, I saw a bunch of movies I had never seen before.

It started with the absolute worst movie I have ever seen in my entire 23 years of life.  It’s some eighties movie my mother picked because she has this thing for Michael Douglas. The movie is called Romancing the Stone.  If you can catch a clip on youtube and want to be appalled, by all means, go ahead and watch it, but I’m telling you- it’s bad.  The storyline is beyond ridiculous, the sound and visual effects were the worst, and I hated every minute of it (and I slept through most of it).

After that, though, I put in No Strings Attached. Now, if you’re thinking that I watched the HBO Special of *NSYNC Live at Madison Square Garden for their No Strings Attached tour, you’d be mistaken.  I do, however, own that, so it wouldn’t be that farfetched. I am actually speaking of the Natalie Portman /Ashton Kutcher RomCom No Strings Attached.  If you haven’t seen it- you must.  It is beyond adorable and while it is completely predictable, it is funny and cute and everything a romantic comedy should be.  I don’t really know how I feel about Natalie Portman. I mean, her performance is fine and I have no qualms about her being in the movie. I just have no thoughts on her, really, on anything she’s ever been in. I just feel so blah about her. But even with that perspective, I loved the movie. It was precious and had heart and made me laugh out loud.

Today, we went to a movie theater that shows movies at a delayed release type of thing. We saw Arthur, the remake.  You know, the one with Russell Brand.  I have seen the original. I own the original and honestly, I really kind of love the original. It’s old and silly but it’s cute and like it.  However, the remake was excellent. It was similar enough to the original to call itself Arthur but it strayed and became its own movie at the same time.  Russell Brand was outrageous and ridiculous but completely perfect for the part.  I even cried a little bit. But mostly I laughed a lot and kept thinking, omg I love this so much and THIS IS SO GOOD!

Finally, the movie marathon that was this weekend ended with Life as We Know It with Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel.  Oh, and that hot guy from Sweet Home Alabama, but he has a minor role. It counts. He’s in it. And he’s still hot. Even though I hate Katherine Heigl in real life, I can’t help but love everything she’s in, starting with Wish Upon a Star, that old movie the Disney Channel used to play when I was, like, ten years old.  Anyway, this movie… I don’t even know what to say about it.  I thought it was gonna be just like Raising Helen, which I haven’t seen since it first came out on DVD because it’s too sad… or something. But this one… it’s really, really good.  I laughed, I cried, I knew what was coming but I loved it anyway.

Seriously, any one of these movies, hell, all of these movies (except Romancing the Stone), are worth watching.  I mean, yes, I tend to be easily amused and generally like most movies I see, but I don’t think that should discredit my praise for these RomComs.

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So, I was playing with my webcam the other day and I was listening to *NSYNC’s I’ll Be Good For You from the No Strings Attached album.  Out of nowhere, I sneezed.  I watched it back and LOL’d to myself.  And then I singled out the sneeze and LOL’d again.

Then I wanted to just put it on twitter for my dear friend Alecia to see, but then I thought that since I don’t have a lot of time to post today (since the Tripod has reunited again and we have been off doing stupid things), I could just share this hilarity with everyone at once.

For you, I will.

I don’t usually remember my dreams.

But sometimes I do.

And I have noticed a pattern to it.

The only dreams I remember are the ones where I’m about to die.

I just can't look at it the same way....

Like that time I dreamt that my house was being broken into and explosions were going off and there was a hostage situation. Or that time I dreamt that a man lived down the street had lured me into his creepy-as-fuck house only for me to find my loved ones and close, beloved family friends all dead, hanging like marionettes (read: *NSYNC-style) in boxes in his giant living room and him chasing me around his property with a sawed-off shotgun and machete. Or that time I dreamt I was being locked in some type of school gymnasium with a fuck-ton of people because wherever the hell we were was on “lockdown” and we were all safe in the gym but then some man told us we have “two minutes to get out because this place is gonna blow the fuck up” and I woke up in a panic.

 

SEE?! This is not okay!!

I woke up this morning and my face was wet and I couldn’t breathe.

I woke up and realized I had been crying in my sleep.

This time was different. I wasn’t dreaming I was dying or about to die. I dreamt that Drew had died.

Why the fuck?! WHY?!

Do you know how disturbing that was?!

That’s my baby brother. That cannot happen. Ever. He can never die.

I was a mess in my whole dream. I was running around like a ninny, completely out of control and inconsolable. I was completely irrational and out of my mind. It was awful.

I can’t even talk about it.

Some people do their best thinking in the shower. When I’m in the shower my mind is usually blank, or singing Christina Aguilera songs at the top of my lungs like I’m the winner of American Idol. And in between songs, I could be thinking really excellent thoughts, like MmmMMM! Shampoo smells yummy OMG I need a band-aid why is shaving my legs so hard!? DAMN IT!

When do I do my my best thinking? When I’m driving.

One minute I’ll be blasting *NSYNC and singing along obnoxiously (Laaaance, Joey, Justin, JC, Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!!!)* and the next I’ll have an idea pop in my head that makes me wonder something.

This very thing happened the other day. Only it wasn’t *NSYNC, it was John Mayer featuring Taylor Swift (OMG love love love!). And it wasn’t so much of a great idea as it was that I realized yet another thing in this world I just don’t understand.

Item # 58,492: The Compass

I don’t get how they work. The only way I know what direction I’m going is by the little green letter on my rear-view mirror. And even that means nothing to me. I forget it’s there because I never, ever use it. N, S, E, and W mean nothing to me. Nor does NE, NW, SE, SW, or any other combination of those letters that is actually possible that I may be forgetting. (I don’t think you can have EW or WE or NS or SN?? Baha!)

One time or another, when I was asked by a boy which direction he needed to be driving, I used my hand to point. It wasn’t really the answer he was looking for.  Communication fail. He was asking a NSEW type of question while I was answering in a(n) (almost) Left or Right type of way. But I was mostly thinking “that way” or “this way” or “over there.”  So, yeah, obviously, it went well.

Exasperation ensued. I explained that NSEW meant nothing to me and it really shouldn’t exist anymore since L and R tend to suffice. He explained that it has something to do with how our brains are wired (men and women, that is. Not he and I, specifically.) Apparently, men are wired to understand NSEW while women …. aren’t?

Perhaps it goes back to evolution and how men left the nest to hunt?

That makes me wonder, though, about those tribes or areas where women are the “breadwinners” and the huntresses for their villages. In those places, women are the ones that go on a quest for food while the men sit home and do jack shit except get fat and talk shit about how the women are never there to take care of them. Even now, women do the grocery shopping. That’s today’s “hunting and gathering” and you don’t need NSEW at the grocery store!

Penguins = Love

AND PENGUINS!  THE LADY PENGUINS LEAVE THEIR LITTLE FRAGILE BABY EGG WITH THE MAN PENGUINS TO GO FIND FOOD WAY THE FUCK OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN ANTARCTICA AND THAT PLACE IS FUCKING FREEZING. THEY JUST GO TO FIND THE FOOD AND THE MEN SIT THERE ALL HUDDLED UP TO KEEP WARM WITH THE UNHATCHED BABY PENGUINS AND SING ABOUT THE SAFE RETURN OF THEIR LADY PENGUINS.

(This is clearly very professionally researched.)

My point is, in these cultures (yes, penguins included), do those women understand NSEW or do they go by landmarks? Because that’s what I do. Give me a landmark and I will direct the shit out of it.

Maybe in those cultures, the lady penguins are like, “Oh, giiiiiiirl, I REMEMBER that glacier! It’s this way! We’ll be home and ready to vomit into our freshly hatched baby’s mouth in, like, twenty minutes! Let’s get waddling!”

Maybe I don’t feel bad about not understanding compasses. It’s not like I’m outdoorsy and enjoy going places where there isn’t a starbucks and a sushi place within ten minutes of wherever I am. I probably won’t ever require the use of a compass. It’s not like I’m a pirate. I don’t even like boats! I have terrible motion sickness. No open seas for me.

I’m sure this lack of understanding of direction has nothing to do with the fact I get lost all the fucking time.

*Oh, I’m sure you were wondering why I made a little note for this footnote about *NSYNC. Here’s the deal: if you do not understand why I typed out the guys in *NSYNC’s names like that, click the link. Watch that video. And around 2:10, you will know why I did that. Whenever I listen to that song, I sing their names in that order at that part because it’s fun.  Also, at 1:25, Chris looks like a chimp.

That is all.

OMG hi. How ARE you?! It’s been, what….? TWO DAYS?! I’ve missed you SO much.

Mmmkay, now that that’s over, uhm, here’s just a few random things swirlin’ around in my noggin.

1.) The library wants me soooo bad. I’ve been getting emails from the library like cray cray, so I just know how bad it wants me. It’s always like, Hey you should stop by today after work…. or it’s like, hey girl, maybe you could swing by today, just for a minute. And I’m always like, Damn, I have stuff to do. But,like, yeah, I guess I could…, I’ll stop by later.

I finally stopped by after I got my oil changed today (omg ew) and I had a shit-ton of shit waiting for me.  First, I had to drop off Dexter, Season 3 because it was, like, totally almost overdue. And the library is a dickhead about late fees. So, Whatever. I gave in there. But in return, I got season 6 of Dawson’s Creek, season 2 of Burn Notice and three John Legend CDs. I probably know only like two John Legend songs but whatever. I’m diversifying my itunes. The library doesn’t judge.  Me and the Library? Our relationship is pretty much give and take. But mostly take, because it’s great like that.  And there’s really not much drama until I keep stuff for too long, but like I said, it’s a dickhead about late fees. I’m teaching it a lesson right now and holding my account balance at a solid $8.00. ‘Cause I’m a free bitch, baby.

2.) I had to make a cut to the list of people I follow on Twitter today. I juuuust did it. Like five minutes ago. I couldn’t take it anymore. And that sucks because I do kinda feel bad when I do that.

A few months ago, I had to un-follow Anderson Cooper. And that really cut me deep because he’s all kiiiiiiiiinds of sexy. But I just really didn’t need all of those informative, news-related tweets infiltrating my homepage filled with the brilliant thoughts of those like Kim Kardashian, Stephanie Pratt, Justin Bieber, and Chunk Handler (yes, Chelsea Handler’s dog). So, sexy-as-fuck AC got the axe.

Five minutes ago, Pauly D (yes, from Jersey Shore– and YES, I’m embarrassed to even admit this) was on the chopping block. I’m pretty sure Mike “The Situation” Whatever-his-name-is is next. Because Seriously, the retweet the shit out of people who even mention them. And that’s annoying as fuuuuuuck. Also, I really don’t want them to take over the world. So I guess I didn’t feel that bad about getting rid of him.

3.) Bad news, guys. I gotta go because I have to go work on my accounting project. So, I guess this is it until next time.

Kayloveyoubye!!!

So, I think I mentioned this before but my mom is building a house. Well, obviously she is not the one doing the hard labor and constructing a dwelling deemed livable. There’s just no way that could actually happen. But you know what I mean.

Because of this new house, my mom is basically a basketcase and walks around life like a ninny. (I really wanted to use that word!) She has been trying to get her house “ready to put on the market” which means making repairs and throwing all of our random shit away.

None of this would really be worthy of telling you about except it is now encroaching on my life. I have been told that I must pack up all of my childhood books and the rest of the crap in my bedroom that I haven’t taken with me anywhere. Okay, fine. I can do that. But the repairs?  At least give a girl some warning!

After a night out terrorizing East Lansing with a couple of my best gals, I awoke this morning at 6:50 am (ish) to hear my mother fluttering around the kitchen and down the hall as her heels clicked against the hardwood floor. I immediately rolled back over and continued right on sleeping. Much too early to be awake. THEN, a text woke me up (thanks a lot, Nikki- lol just kidding! love you!) around 9:30 am or something. I deemed this a suitable time to rise. So after texting back and forth a for a while, apologizing to a couple people I happened to inappropriately drunk-text, and deciding I needed to watch an episode of Dawson’s Creek, I heard someone walkin’ around downstairs. I assumed it was my mom. (I have this joke with her lately that she just never goes to work anymore- but it’s totally a joke. She does go to work. And she loves her job. FYI. hahaha)

So, because I assumed it was my mom, I got out of bed, opened my door and took a first few tentative steps out into the loft before saying something snarky to Tam (my mom) about how she’s a slacker and never goes to work.

Oh. It totally wasn’t my mom. Whoever it was totally heard me get up and was like, “HELLO!?!”

Uhm. That’s a man-voice. WTF?!

Uhm. Hello?

WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE SAID?! (Maybe I should have gone with something like “WHO DERE?!” bahahaha at least I crack myself up…)

“I’m John,” said the odd man in my home.

Suddenly, I was thankful I put pants on. I almost didn’t!

Uuuuuum, I’m Katie?

“I’m just putting up some drywall here for your mother?”

This is when I just retreated towards my room. I would hide until he was gone. My hair was huge and completely weird shaped. The X drawn on my hand in permanent marker from the bar last night was probably now transferred to my cheek. I didn’t need to know what this man looked like or what he was doing. Just. Go. Away. But he sounded busy, so I figured I’d wait it out.

Oh. Okay.

I hightailed it back to my room, closed the door, took my pants back off, and crawled back into bed. I texted my mom “it’s not awkward at all with this random man in my house or anything…” but she didn’t care enough about me to text me back.

It seemed like I was waiting forever. After an episode of Dawson’s Creek that I pretty much slept through, I decided I couldn’t live like a prisoner in my own home anymore. So I grabbed my clothes and tip-toed to the bathroom. After showering and getting dressed, I got the f outta there and ran my very-important errands. Yeah, right. I basically invented a reason to gtfo of my house for at least an hour.

HE WAS STILL THERE WHEN I GOT BACK. AND HE LOOKS LIKE SANTA CLAUS.

AND HE CONVERSED WITH ME AS IF OUR AWKWARD INTRODUCTION NEVER TOOK PLACE.

meredith grey knows what's up

So, I went right along with it. I pretended this morning never happened, just like the annoying thing that happened last night. And the awkward thing that happened yesterday after work.  If Santa can handle avoidance behavior, then I’m just gonna continue living my life “under a banner of avoidance.” Really, this just instills in me the idea that being “dark and twisty” and an avoider is okay. This all just really reinforces my belief that if I’m any one character from Grey’s Anatomy, it is indeed Meredith. And if you watch that show, she’s not exactly… stable. But whatever, she gets help and becomes bright and shiny. Maybe someday I’ll be bright and shiny Meredith too. Change does happen, you know. I used to be very Cristina, but as I just told you, I’m not so much anymore.

This got very off-topic. Where was I?

Oh yes. Santa. (Sidenote:  As I was writing Santa, I almost wrote Satan. Interesting.)

Santa Claus just continued on merrily, putting up drywall or something. And then he finally left, but not before asking me if it was okay to leave his ladder here since he would be returning at 9 am tomorrow morning.

I can’t wait. Maybe I’ll ask him for a pony tomorrow. Or maybe not since horses freak me out.

Oh, I know. I’ll ask him for a boyfriend an *NSYNC reunion tour! Ooh, or for Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears to bury the hatchet and get their love-fest back on. Or for Mel Gibson to not be so terrible and make him go away. (I could do this forever.)

Once upon a time, Mom took us along on a business trip.

The Detroit Regional Chamber has a conference on Mackinac Island, like, every year or something and lots of organizations and politicians attend, and for a few years Mom got to attend as well through work. We were obnoxious, school-skipping, sleep-in-late-and-waste-the-day’ers. And, apparently, too young to go unsupervised on a 3.8 square mile island. Grandma was our adult buddy every year but one.

I have no clue how many years we went, but it seemed like the very beginning of every June it was time to skip a couple of days of school to take a long weekend, hop in the van and sleep through movies the whole way up north while Mom and Grandma yammered on up front.  Out of all of these times we went, I can really only remember a few scattered memories, one of which I’ll share with you today.

It doesn’t involve eating myself sick with yummy fudge, or watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone on DVD as soon as it came out while it rained, or pillow fighting Drew on our hotel balcony while wearing my brand new *NSYNC concert t-shirt. The memory I’ll share with you doesn’t have anything to do with attempting (and failing) to learn how to skip rocks on Lake Michigan, nor does it include the time we went horseback riding and Angie’s (our cousin) horse went rogue and took off with her still on-board. (I hate horses.)

Oh no, dear readers, this one directly involves Grandma. And bikes. And a trashcan.

This is from one of the many trips. Probably not the same time as this story, though. Visual aids are always helpful. Note the bunny-ears. I’m super mature.

Riding one’s bike around the island is the thing to do on Mackinac Island. So much to do, so much to see! The foliage, the lake, the horse poop and the fudge. The Fort, and the Grand Hotel. Horseback riding, golfing, and eating. What’s not to love?

One day, as we had done so many times before, we decided it would be a grand idea to ride around the lake. After hopping on our bikes, we took a right, passing Fort Mackinac.  We continued on our way, passing one of the places I never did learn how to skip rocks. Soon enough we passed probably no less than 487 Adirondack chairs out in front of one of the lovely hotels with beautiful landscaping my grandma was likely dying to investigate. Unfortunately for her, Drew and I never were big fans of stopping to smell the roses.

The back side of the island is not as fun as the side with all the touristy crap. There are a lot of trees, people on bikes (omg tandem bikes are hilarious/adorable but impossible to ride- maybe that’s just me??), crying children, people with backpacks full of pb & j sandwiches and girl scout cookies, and one rest stop that I never wanted to use but we stopped at because Grandma wanted to ensure we wouldn’t pee ourselves. (I want to measure how many cc’s of liquid my bladder can hold because I’m sure it is superior to most everyone I know.)

Beyond that, we hauled our asses up big hills and flew down other hills with Drew making everything a race.  Soon enough we passed other landmarks, like the Grand Hotel and some place called Devil’s Kitchen, although I’m not sure if that’s an actual place or if it’s something Drew and I invented in our heads. It’s hard to say now, since it’s been so long since I’ve been there.

Finally, we’re on the homestretch. We’re riding down the main drag, past restaurants and hotels. We pass those touristy shops that sell crap you bring home and immediately break or throw away or forget about. We had convinced Grandma (okay, it was her idea) that it was time to get ice cream since we had just spent all afternoon in the hot, hot island sun (bahaha it’s Michigan, I know).  We were shouting the different kinds of ice cream we were going to get. It was so close, we could taste it.

That’s when it happened. Drew and I practically throw our bikes in the lovely flower garden off to the side of the building in an attempt to race to the door when we hear a human cry for help and a crash. When we turned around to see what happened, hoping to high heaven that a horse carriage hadn’t crashed, we saw that it was Grandma.

Fear not, dear readers, she didn’t crash into a horse carriage. She crashed into a garbage can on the side of the road. Turns out she had forgotten that her brakes were on the handlebars. Apparently in the olden days, to activate the brakes on one’s bike, one had to pedal backwards, so that’s exactly what Grandma did, only to no avail. She didn’t slow down at all. She went full force into a stationary trash can right in the middle of downtown. It was glorious.

We laughed because we’re brats. Then we went and helped her up, got the bike out of the way, and stood the once standing trashcan back upright. Grandma scraped up her arm and leg but we got some ice cream, a bottle of water and moseyed on back to our hotel for a nap. When Mom came home from her meetings at the Grand Hotel, with her fancy name badge and everything, and saw Grandma all scraped up, we dissolved into fits of laugher as we told and retold the story over and over, reenacting the yelp and the fall and the crash.

Good times were had by all at Mackinac Island. And that’s why we haven’t been back since.