NKOTB Review - October 19, 2008

The best place to Cougar hunt Sunday night wasn’t Duke’s or Martini Park or even Down Under Pub. It was American Airlines center, where amid crimped hair, gigantic buttons, and lots of bright pink and green, a few friends and I went back in time about 16 years (at the very reasonable price of $90 per person) to enjoy a night with our onetime FHs, The New Kids on the Block. There weren’t many teenagers (and the ones that were there appeared to be with their mother’s) and there weren’t many men (though Donnie praised those that were there as being smart and declaring they would definitely “get some” tonight). There were so few men, in fact, that the men’s bathrooms had been converted into additional facilities for the ladies. Of course the one time I visited the men’s room, I nearly gagged at the unmistakable stench of urine, but hey, it’s the thought that counts.

I can basically sum up my demeanor last night in one word – giggly. I think I laughed throughout the entire concert I was so giddy. I wasn’t expecting quite the reaction I had, although in hindsight it makes sense. I mean the New Kids really are the only good memory I have of junior high (other than the time the radio station came to school and I got to spin the wheel and won a gift certificate to the movie theater). And I was surprised that all the words to every song came back to me so quickly – I should have never doubted myself. I remember very clearly a debate I had with my mother around age 11 over the overall impact of our favorite boy bands. Somehow I don’t think I ever got her to come around to my way of thinking:

“Oh Kelly we totally felt that way about the Beatles when we were your age.”

“No Mom – this is WAY bigger than the Beatles! This is NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK!!!!”

The guys don’t really appear to have changed much. Joey is still adorable. Donnie is still ghetto (in a super hot way). Jordan still has a ridiculous falsetto voice. And Jon and Danny were still merely backup singers. One noticeable change is that the guys (especially Joey) are no longer boys. I’m pretty sure that “Please Don’t Go Girl” was dropped about five keys since apparently, Joey went through puberty sometime in the last 16 years. But boys or men, 1992 or 2008, there will always be some definite crotch grabbing, and I mean that in the least perverted way possible.

One of the highlights came when the band disappeared from the stage and reappeared on an elevated rotating platform near the back of the floor section. With my seat one level off the floor near the back, this put me probably the closest I’ve ever physically been to Joey, my favorite New Kid. They performed four of five songs on this platform, including “Tonight,” a song they wrote near the end of their glory days that referenced several of their early hits. It was at this point that some woman threw her bra onto the stage. Jordan playfully picked it up and swung it over his head like a lasso, just as he had done countless times decades ago.

There were a few songs that allowed the guys to showcase their solo careers. While Joey’s song was most likely to be featured in a cheesy Kate Hudson/Matthew McConaughey movie, Jordan garnered much attention when while standing over a wind machine he flipped his white button up shirt back to expose a pleasantly surprising chiseled chest. And what did Donnie do at the end of his song? Pull his pants down below his boxers, duh.

(I must say that I did have a revelation last night – “I’ll Be Loving You Forever” is possibly the best first dance wedding song ever written. “There’s just so much that I want to say but when I look at you all my thoughts get in the way.” I mean seriously, how come that doesn’t get more wedding play?)

Last night I flashed back to memories of attending New Kids on the Block concerts in elementary and junior high school with friends I can’t even remember the names of, though I do remember one of the guys took off his sweaty shirt and threw it to someone in my section. I’m pretty sure I cried. It also brought back memories of the night I spent in the Four Seasons hotel lobby hoping to get a glimpse of NSync (Joey Fatone said hi to me!). Basically the whole evening reaffirmed my love of boy bands. I mean any boy band will do. Pair Zac Efron with the Jonas Brothers and I’ll buy the CD, a concert ticket, and I’ll probably join the fan club too.

The finale was the ultimate culmination. Fifteen thousand adult women waving their hands back and forth to “Hangin’ Tough,” diverting for a while into Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” then back to “Hangin’ Tough” supersized with electric guitars and sparkly lights. I’m not kidding when I say two EMTs had to come down to our section to ask if one woman was okay. But the thing about fifteen thousand 30-something year old women with fully developed lungs – well lets just say my ears are still ringing.

I, on the other hand, didn’t spend the whole night screaming at the top of my lungs, and I didn’t throw my bra on stage, but did I throw my hands in the air and wave them like I just don’t care when prompted by Donnie? Why yes, I did.

30 Things in the Next 30 Years

My 30th birthday came and went. I don’t really feel too much older, unless you count the fact that after I do step aerobics my knees crack when I walk down the stairs for the next two days. In my last blog I gave you “30 Things in 30 Years.” And while I’ve accomplished a lot in my 30 years , I also made a list of 30 things I’d like to do in the next 30 years. So here goes:

1. Get married. That’s right Mom – I said it. It’s on my list.

2. Live for a year or two outside of the US. Really anywhere but Antarctica would be okay with me. I don’t think there would be enough fleece in the world to make that comfortable.

3. Learn to play the fiddle. OK – I realize a fiddle really is a violin, but I would like to play “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” and besides it’s way more interesting to say, “I play the fiddle.”

4. Learn sign language. Currently I know the alphabet and a few bad words, but that’s it.

5. Write a book. At a minimum it would be a compilation of non-fiction short stories a la David Sedaris, but without the drugs.

6. Take a mission trip to Africa. And maybe, Mom, I’ll buy a kid while I’m there.

7. Learn a foreign language. Spanish would be practical, but Norwegian? That would be fun!

8. Learn to dive. I don’t mean scuba dive. I mean actually jump off the diving board with my arms over my head and go head first (feet last) into the water without doing a belly flop.

9. Make a gigantic anonymous donation to something. Any ideas on how to get rich first?

10. Quit biting my nails. I’ve tried – I can’t help it if the pepper flavored nail polish tastes good.

11. Fit into my prom dress. OK really I mean just lose some weight, but if I could fit into my prom dress I’d take a picture and make a Christmas card out of it.

12. Learn to fly and get my pilot’s license (and maybe spell out kproc.com in the air with my plane)

13. Go skydiving. WHEEEEEE!!!!!

14. Join a band. Maybe I can be the fourth Dixie Chick!

15. Go on a vacation without taking my laptop. Good luck, self.

16. Spend several weeks in the Italian countryside taking cooking and wine classes. Maybe I should learn to like tomato sauce first.

17. Go to Hawaii. I’d fire walk, hula dance, be an extra on Lost, the whole nine yards.

18. Compete in a reality show. Any one but The Real World. I really think I could kick some butt on Survivor.

19. Go back to school to get my PhD so I can officially be Doctor Proctor!

20. Visit Australia Mate!

21. Participate in a step aerobics marathon. By my calculations, doing step aerobics for five hours straight is equivalent to running 26.2 miles at 5 miles per hour (that’s how slow I’d run). Who wants to do it with me? We can pick a charity.

22. Go to the Superbowl (hopefully when the Cowboys are playing – probably when I’m like 80 years old)

23. Read the whole bible. Not the kids bible with all the pictures. I mean the real thing.

24. Learn to scuba dive. I hear I might suffocate, but the Australian scenery might be worth it.

25. Learn to play the harmonica, and get one of those things that goes around your neck so you can play harmonica without holding it in your hands. I know, that’s hot.

26. At least try to water ski. I know I will fall, but I should probably try at least once instead of breaking my back on that stupid tube.

27. See my nephew (and other nieces and nephews that may come) graduate from college. If they graduate from UT I might even buy them a present.

28. Play in a fantasy football league with a bunch of guys and WIN! That would make the guys at work REAL happy!

29. Buy a baby grand piano to go in the music room I don’t yet have in the house I don’t yet have

30. Find some stupid hidden talent and perform it on Conan O’Brien’s show. Suggestions?

Wow – this is a pretty big list. I better get to work!

30 Things in 30 Years

Composed September 15, 2008

Here I am, on the eve of the 30th anniversary of my birth. I have a glass of Shiraz in one hand, a diet coke in the other, and the Cowboys on TV. I am reflective.

30 years is a long time, and so I started to think of whether I’d made the most of my 30 years on earth. Of course there are things I still want to do (those will be revealed in a future blog), but I made a list of 30 things I have done or accomplished that at least I can say I’ve “checked off my list” so to speak. It was hard to cut it down to just 30, but in no particular order, 30 things in 30 years:

1. I decided I wanted to play the guitar, so I did. Two guitars and countless dollars spent in lessons later, I play a mean “Silent Night”

2. I watched a guy drink snake blood in a Taiwanese market. This is an accomplishment, because it confirmed for me that I will never, ever do it.

3. I jumped off a three story cliff canyoning in Switzerland. The funny thing is that after I jumped my friend Jasmine, the one who begged and pleaded and insisted I go in the first place, chickened out and had to rappel down.

4. I went on a walking beer tour in the middle of January with ten complete strangers in Munich, half of whom I could not communicate with. And I discovered – Russians don’t just throw back vodka.

5. I danced in a televised parade. 7th grade – Foley’s Thanksgiving Day parade in Houston. We danced to Vogue. I froze my jazz hands off.

6. I ran in a race. Yes me. Yes a race. A fun run actually. I think I was about six. We ran around the football stadium. On the backside of the football stadium I realized I was in last place. So when I turned the corner toward the finish line, I started limping as if I’d fallen down and THAT’S why I was last. I have never revealed that to anyone until now. Somehow I still got a trophy.

7. I sustained a sports injury. I tore my ACL snow skiing, and I’ve been back on the slopes about five times since the surgery. Every time I’ve skied since then I have never fallen. Not even when David Daniels and Ryan Blakeney tried to take me down.

8. I bought a house and a car all by myself. Of course I did not realize I was going to have to spend two hours a day changing light bulbs.

9. I saw my brother play cello in the Texas All State Orchestra, which is cool, except that he sweats a lot.

10. I made it 30 years without being arrested. Take that Reagan!!!!

11. I learned how to tap dance. And after another glass of wine, I may just put on a little show for myself.

12. I managed to never use any kind of drugs, except for whatever you people may have slipped me over the years without my knowledge.

13. I watched the University of Texas (the greatest school ever!) win the BCS championship against USC, live in person.

14. I tried out for a reality show – The Apprentice. I could have been Omarosa.

15. I enjoyed certain delicacies in Asia, like a Green Bean popsicle in Beijing, and Pig Ear in Hong Kong (chewy!)

16. I watched basketball (March Madness) and played craps with the mafia in Vegas

17. I, along with several friends, was solicited by a swinging couple on a cruise. We politely declined.

18. I went to the Olympics (Atlanta 1996) – baseball and women’s basketball. My two favorite sports! (That’s sarcasm)

19. I “studied” abroad twice – once in Paris and once in Hong Kong. Notice the strategic use of quotation marks with the word studied.

20. I got my MBA. Or should I say that while working full time I agonized through two and a half years of mind-numbing lectures when even a 64 ounce double gulp was NEVER enough diet coke

21. I learned how to make a website and get over 104,000 hits.

22. I survived a church retreat as a chaperone for 100 junior high and high school kids at church. And I thought I wasn’t a kid person!

23. I learned to like roller coasters after being terrified when I was younger, and now it’s love.

24. I went wine tasting in Napa in a limo with my infamous ex. At least I got a trip to San Francisco out of him.

25. I somehow, someway kept my composure in my bridesmaid dress when retrieving aforementioned ex from the hospital in New Orleans after a very unfortunate (for him) night.

26. I bought a piano after not having played for eight years, just because I heard Billy Joel’s “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” on the radio

27. I went white water rafting in Lake Tahoe. Accidentally wore helmet backwards. Flipped completely out of the boat.

28. I visited a Japanese beer brewery with co-workers and took an hour long tour that I couldn’t understand a word of.

29. I hiked the Great Wall of China in flip flops. I thought we were just going to look and take pictures, and had left my Puma’s at home.

30. I taught my two year old nephew to chant “Romo! Romo!” much to the chagrin of my Texans fanatic brother in law.

In conclusion, I was told yesterday that I am a “desperate, desperate, Cougar” And since I have an hour and a half to go, this desperate desperate Cougar is going to go play with her Snoopy Sno Cone Machine.

Random mini-blogs

Well it’s been a while since I’ve posted here and I’m feeling pretty uninspired lately, so I’m going to string together some mini-blogs. If anyone would like to suggest topics for future blogs, please send them my way. I’m out of ideas.
Here’s some snippets…

So your boobs really do get bigger after having a kid…
Here is a mini-guest blog from my little sister Ashley. She had been working at her new job about two weeks when this unfortunate event occurred. Here it is in her words:
I was sitting in a morning meeting at 10 am this morning when a horrific thing occurred. Not 2 minutes into it, I barely leaned on the corner of the table, and I hear a snap. I realized my underwire on my bra had broken. So I'm hoping it will be short meeting so I can go to the restroom and adjust. But no, of course not. So as the meeting gets longer and longer, the wire inches out more and more. It is stabbing me and pinching me and is just overall extremely painful. As soon as the meeting ends (1.5 hours later), I tell my boss I need to take my lunch break to go to the Galleria and buy a new bra, as at this point the one I'm currently wearing is completely useless. So I get in my car as fast as I can and find the nearest Wamu (I got my first check today, and needed to deposit it before buying a bra). I rush back to my parking garage, park, and run across to the galleria and enter through Nordstroms. I find this new store a friend told me about because I desperately need a fitting as well. When I tell them what size I think I am (38C) they laugh. I try on a few new bras, and discover I am a 34F. And my boobs are slightly mis-shapen from wearing the wrong size bra. I buy one bra and promise to come back when I'm not on my lunch break.

Now my boobs feel absolutely amazing and I never knew a bra could feel so good. Plus, they don't sag anymore. But I still have a nasty red spot where my wire rubbed me raw....

It must take something stronger than beer to get through a Britney Spears concert
My mom and two and a half year old nephew Trevor came to visit me a couple of weeks ago while my brother attended cello camp in Arlington. We did lots of fun stuff while they were here – played in the pool, rode the trolley, went shopping, etc. But probably the highlight of Trevor’s visit was when we went to the circus at American Airlines Center. I think he’s still playing with his $30 spinning light thingy and talking about lions and elephants and clowns. When we went to the circus, I had had a tough week and an even tougher day, so the whole car ride to the circus I was hoping and praying they would be selling beer there. I could just taste the cold, frothy goodness. And guess what – they sold beer and I drank every drop out of my 24 ounce cup! But here’s the ironic part – I remember very clearly attending a Britney Spears concert several years ago at the very same venue where beer was not available for sale. So you can buy beer at the circus, but not at the Britney concert? Go figure. Well it was right around the time she was starting to go downhill - maybe it was for her own protection.

There’s No Place Like Aunt Kelly’s
As I mentioned Trevor’s visit to Dallas was probably the highlight of his life. At the end of the week I took Trevor for a six hour car ride to Evadale, Texas for a family reunion. It was there that he would be reunited with his mom and dad after spending nearly a week apart. My sister had never been away from Trevor for that long, so naturally she was very excited to see him. So when we pulled up she started running toward the car. Trevor stood there watching her run toward him staring at her like she was crazy. When she got a few feet away, Trevor ran over to me and wrapped around my leg. I’m pretty sure I saw a tear in Ashley’s eye, but I am just glad that I am henceforth known as the fun aunt.

Red, Hot, and Puke
Last Friday several of us went to eat lunch at Dallas BBQ joint Red, Hot, and Blue. It was me and seven guys (I work with all guys, therefore I eat lunch with all guys). Today at work it seemed relatively sparse for a Monday. Turns out that half the people I had eaten lunch with on Friday got food poisoning and spent their entire weekends in the bathroom. Either that or they concocted this ploy to all skip out on work today. Either way, they all had the pulled pork, and it seems that many are still paying for it. I’m just glad I got the chicken.

Olga! Homer! Get in time out!
It’s raining babies. My friend Jenny will give birth to daughter number two later this week. My cousin and his wife had a baby on Saturday. And the fun is just beginning for my friend Laura who is carrying quadruplets. Despite my mothers’ urging to adopt a baby girl from China (“Ya know you don’t have to be married to adopt a child, Kelly. Who’s going to care for you when you get old?”) I am years away from learning how to suppress my gag reflex long enough to change a diaper. But something has happened – my cousin and his wife stole my baby name. Madeline. Maddie for short. It’s not their fault, I thought it might be pretty psychopathic of me to declare to the world I had names picked out for my un-conceived children. And why should I? I mean maybe if I could find someone to pretend to be my FH (future husband) for a few minutes I might have a right to claim names. But clearly I’m no where near that, so I can’t just reserve names. What was I thinking? But at the rate my friends are popping them out, and at the speed at which I’m cruising at, I just better get used to sound of Agnes and Hugh.

That hula hoop trick was a perfect ten
Can I just say what everyone is thinking? Thank goodness the Olympics are over! Sure at first it was fun – Michael Phelps, underage gymnasts, but was it worth the four hoursof sleep a night I’ve been averaging? It was more frustrating than anything. Here are some of my observations:
Why can’t we prove the Chinese gymnasts are underage? It’s 2008 people – isn’t there some kind of DNA testing or something like that? It’s not like they are barely too young. They are freaking 12! If we can count rings to tell the age of a tree, then why can’t we tell how old a human is? Does anyone else think this is weird?

I’ve never run track before, but I would think that passing off the baton in a track relay would be an essential and fundamental skill. I know. Call me crazy. How is it possible that both the US men and women could screw it up? Was it covered in Vaseline? I’m not claiming to be an expert in baton handoffs, but they should be! How does something like that happen? Similarly, serving a volleyball over a net in bounds should probably be a given for an Olympic volleyball player.

The first week was exciting, the second week was boring, but thank goodness we could cap the whole thing off with a healthy dose of rhythmic gymnastics. I must say the hula hoop skills are mesmerizing. I see an extremely successful Cirque Du Soleil career in these girls’ future.
I’m just saying I think I’ll be okay waiting four years for the next one. That’s all.

Smoke? No Way!
Well I’m still doing the online dating thing, or should I stay I’m still paying for the online dating thing. It hasn’t been quite as much fun since Grapevine Chris quit stalking me. Match.com was boring me, and since I was looking for some kproc.com inspiration, I took advantage of the Eharmony $45 for three months sale. That hasn’t been that exciting either. Here’s a guy who says Smoke – No Way! (one of my basic criteria), yet his profile picture shows him with a cig hanging out the right side of his mouth. Sexy. I did initiate communication with a guy with a mustache, just to change it up a little. I’ve been on one so-so date and one excruciatingly painful date. Just one or two more and I’ll have my memberships paid off, and hopefully some good blog material. But so far, nothing exciting to report. Maybe I should reach out to Grapevine Chris and see if he’ll go back to stalking me.

It’s not like it’s 238,494 Zambian Kwacha’s
I’m currently fighting with my old apartment complex. They are trying to charge me excessive and unreasonable charges for my move out in March above and beyond the deposit I already agreed to forfeit. We have been fighting over this for a couple of months now, and the current negotiated bill is for $65.24. Yes, I know it’s not like they are trying to charge me $500, and writing a $66 check won’t break the bank, but it’s the principle of it. Without going into too much detail, I will say that when I was moving out I called the office and asked what I needed to do, and I proceeded to follow instructions that were provided to me over the phone. Apparently the person I was talking to was smoking something, since doing what they told me to do was not enough to avoid these ridiculous charges. But none of those people work there anymore, the entire management has changed, and everyone refuses to believe me. I realize now I should have been recording every phone conversation I ever had.

I filed a complaint with the Better Business Bureau, but I also didn’t want to have a $66 bill hanging over my head, so I went in a few weeks ago to pay my bill. With 6,524 pennies. It’s US legal tender, but the office refused to accept it, even though no where does it state they only take check or money order as they claim. So I’m still fighting this with the leasing office, the corporate office, and through the Better Business Bureau. If they refuse to accept my payment I’ll be glad to pay via check. 6,524 of them for $0.01 each. Anyone have a check printing hook up?

Online Dating Round 8

So I’ve been on match.com on and off for a few years now. While it hasn’t reaped hundreds of dates and long term relationships with Mr. Perfect, it has been somewhat of a fun hobby if nothing else. “I wonder what freaks I’m going to attract today?” I’ll ask myself when I roll out of bed in the morning. Even when I’m not a paid subscriber, I still leave my profile up so that other people can view it and pretend like they know me after looking at a few pictures and reading a few paragraphs. Occasionally I’ll get a “wink.” This is just an automated message that people can choose to send to one another to let them know they are interested. As a non-paying subscriber you can send and receive winks, but that’s about it. If someone is so moved by your profile they want to send you an email, you will receive an email saying you have an email, but you can’t check the email or even see who sent you the email. Did you catch all that?

So about a month or so ago I had received a few emails in my match.com inbox, but as a non-paying subscriber I couldn’t read them. It had been about a year since I had been a paid subscriber, so I decided to spring for the $60 three month subscription out of curiosity. So from about mid-June to mid-September, I’m going to make the most of my $60. In fact last week I went out with a guy that had sent one of those initial emails that piqued my curiosity and led me to sign up. I’ve got a few other “conversations” going with some others, and plans to meet up with another guy this week. As my friend Russell says, “I’m E-pimpin’.”

But none of this information is worthy of a blog. What is more interesting is the people I have found on match.com and the people who have found me, who either can’t read or read selectively. To explain, I first need to give you a general idea about my profile:

My screen name is txex01 – because I graduated from UT in 2001. Yes I will accost you with my Longhorn pride right off the bat.

There are 13 pictures of me on my profile. This is probably more than the average, but I try to convey many things about me in my pictures. A photo of me in Hong Kong and another snow skiing shows that I like to travel. There is a photo of me on a skateboard on St. Patrick’s Day. This shows that I am fun-loving. There are two pictures of me with my friends from college, who are all smoking hot. This shows that I am not a recluse, and that there may be a consolation prize in store if I don’t work out. There are two pictures of me with my nephew, who is super cute. You might think at first glance that this might be my child (which would most likely be a turnoff for many potential suitors), but my profile says “Have Kids: None” so that fear is laid to rest, and the picture just shows I am probably good with kids. And finally I have a picture of the scoreboard at the BCS championship game when Texas beat USC, again to accost you with my Longhorn pride and fend off any Aggie or Sooner potentials. It is worth noting that in all my pictures I am in much better shape than I am today. There are even a couple of pictures that may be the best pictures I’ve ever taken. At first I felt guilty about this, but then I remembered that everyone else does the same thing and people should be smart enough to understand that I am not as hot in person as I am on the internet. At least the pictures online are actually pictures of me and not some photo-shopped supermodel pic.

A very important aspect of my profile is the “Body Type” category. Here are the body types you can choose from: slender, athletic and toned, about average, a few extra pounds, stocky, heavyset, and other. I think it is pretty commonly understood on match.com that if you choose “about average” you could probably stand to use a few pounds. Many guys will even specify that they are only looking for women that are slender or athletic and toned. But I took a risk and decided to set my body type at “a few extra pounds.” Some people might think this is stupid, but I think it facilitates efficiency in matching. I would say that when you select “a few extra pounds” on match.com you are filtering out ~90% of the men that would have matched your own search criteria. Why would I want to do that? Several reasons: 1. As I mentioned before, I am thinner in my pictures than I am now, so I compensate by choosing a few extra pounds so guys don’t have unreasonable expectations. 2. Even if I were skinny, I wouldn’t want to date a guy that was only okay with dating skinny girls. I’m never going to be skinny forever, and I don’t want to live under that pressure. And 3. I’d like to think that somewhere out there there is a guy that puts as little emphasis in physical appearance as I do. I know what you are thinking. Keep dreaming.

Aside from that I basically list my educational background, faith, that I work out and try to eat healthy, I don’t smoke, that I’m politically middle of the road, that I like to travel, and a few paragraphs about myself. Pretty standard stuff actually.

So another thing to note is that I have clearly specified what I am looking for in a guy. I think I’m fairly reasonable when it comes to what I’m looking for. A guy within a ten year span encompassing my age that is at least 5’8” with any body type except slender (I never want to feel I’m bigger than the guy I’m with). He lives within 50 miles of my zip code, and ethnicity is white, Latino/Hispanic, or other (I may be able to open this up after my grandparents become senile or die). Faith must be Catholic, Protestant, or Christian/Other. Education must be at least a bachelor’s degree. Many people have called me out on this, saying this makes me a snob. I have compromised by saying that I’m looking for this, but if a guy emails me without a bachelor’s degree I won’t automatically rule him out. Smoke: No way or cigars only. Drink: socially. Never married or divorced and no kids. Fairly reasonable, don’t you think?

Which brings me to the point of this posting. Why, oh why, do I get noticed by men who come no where close to matching my criteria? Here’s a sampling of a few people that have winked or emailed me since I re-subscribed in the last month.

One man dubs himself as “the man you can call your future.” He is never married with a child, and instead of specifying conservative, liberal, or middle of the road, he chose “some other viewpoint.” I don’t think I want to know what that other viewpoint might be.

One guy says “I run with scissors, it makes me feel dangerous!” He last read his cell phone bill. Literature buff? I think not. Aside from that, he isn’t even looking for “a few extra pounds” women according to his profile.

Another guy with the word “Ice” in his screen name emailed to say he loved my profile and wants to chat. Yet Mr. Ice is an atheist, and I wrote a whole paragraph in my profile on the importance of faith.

I could go on and one – I’ve received winks or emails from guys that smoke. Guys that are over the age of 50. Guys that live in Oklahoma, Maine, and North Dakota. Guys that find “boldness/assertiveness” a turn-off. Guys younger than me specifically looking for women older than them (do I look like a Cougar?) Guys who say they don’t smoke, but are only looking for women whose smoking status is “trying to quit.” Should I keep going? Where are the guys that are looking for me?

And now I remember, this is why I’m not a full time paying subscriber. The filtering out of all the crap takes three times longer than actually communicating with the real potential FHs (that’s future husband). But anyway, I have paid for this thing for three months, so as I said before, I will make the most of it. I’ll let you know if anything crazy happens.

Humanity Sucks! Nevermind!

I've been meaning to tell you all about a couple of crazy things that happened last Thursday.

I saw the worst side of humanity and the best side of humanity. I'll start with the worst.A couple of weeks ago after church Ben told me, “Your right rear is kind of low.” After I punched him in the face I realized he was talking about my tire. So I went and aired up my back right tire, and checked it again last Thursday morning and it was low again. So I figured I must have a leak. So I took my car to the Firestone that’s literally a block away from work and walked to work. A few minutes later they called and told me there were two punctures in my tire. I jokingly said, “Are you saying someone slashed my tire?” and the guy said, “It sure looks that way – two four inch slashes.” Not sure where this happened (I park in my garage at home), but at the moment, I’m looking out for my enemies.

Second story...A few weeks ago a bunch of people from church pooled their money together to buy a going away gift for Broc. One of the things we got him was tickets to see Seinfeld because he kind of has a man crush on him. I bought the tickets online at ticketmaster and when you do that they are supposed to send you a notice when they have been printed and they are supposed to be delivered in the mail at least five business days before the event. Well the show is this Saturday, and as of last Thursday I still hadn't received the email or the tickets. So I was starting to kind of freak out about if and when they would arrive.

Fast forward to last Thursday night (the same day I found out my tire had been slashed) - I got home at about 10PM and went to check the mail, hoping to find something from Ticketmaster. There was nothing from Ticketmaster, but among all the junk mail and mortgage insurance letters (that won't stop coming) there was an envelope hand addressed to me. The return address was from Chuck Cox at a Dallas address. I don't know a Chuck Cox so I was very curious as to what this hand addressed envelope contained. I opened it up to find a note inside that said "Kelly, Ticketmaster accidentally sent me your tickets. Here you go." My name and address was on the tickets so he mailed them to me. He could have used them or sold them or just ignored them, but this guy sent them to me in the mail! Isn't that crazy! So now I have the tickets and Broc can go drool over Jerry Seinfeld Saturday.

How I Keep Busy

Thank you Ashley and Ben and everyone else for enhancing my self esteem by telling me how much I suck and what a loser I am because I haven't updated the site in a while. But I have good reasons. Here's what I have been doing recently that has prevented me from updating kproc.com regularly:

1. I watched a monkey do tricks at church, then found out that said monkey is also available to dress up in a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader uniform and strip. Guys, sounds like a great idea for your next bachelor party

2. I ate an entire pitcher of alcohol soaked fruit because I thought that eating the fruit would be fewer calories than drinking the sangria. After about a pound and a half of drunk fruit, I felt nothing. Can someone say "400 pound man?"

3. I got a rash on my right hand and spent hours trying to diagnose it. Apparently the internet thinks I have herpes, as it took hours of searching "little red bumps with blisters" to turn up a search result that referenced a non-STD heat rash.

4. I got a jet ski up to 49 mph then wisely tried to make a sharp turn, which is the closest I've ever come to dying. Somehow I managed to keep it upright.

5. I wrote a song. Actually I wrote lyrics to a song - I can't take credit for the music. It's a song for Dick. I'm still putting the finishing touches on it, and when it's done I will post it.

6. I fantasized about gazelle role playing. Whitney, Kristen, Kay - you know what I'm talking about.

7. I spent many very productive hours working on my tan in the sun. I managed not to get too sunburned, but did contract aforementioned heat rash.

8. Kicked Ben's @ss (and several old ladies') at nursing home bingo, but called a truce over a bowl of ice cream.

9. I made my first real firework purchase ever, although I had no clue what I was doing and refused to light them myself.

10. I ate a very patriotic meal of fajitas on Independence Day

11. Submitted no less than five help tickets in the last three weeks to the IT help desk at work for computer issues, many of which are still unresolved, so I'm working on a computer that could crap out at any moment.

12. Lost at flip cup multiple times

13. Watched Joey Chestnut take the Hot Dog Eating Championship in the dramatic five dog eat off

14. Got a deflated tire, and drove to four different gas stations before I could find a place that had an air hose.

15. Got attacked by a scary two pound dog who I swear must have been rabid

16. Fell in love with Will on "So You Think You Can Dance"

17. Played cashier at a pie auction fund raiser at church where people were paying as much as $500 for a pie - no joke

18. Ordered my driving record and prepared for defensive driving since I committed the major sin of going 75 on the Tollway

19. Met my hairdressing soul mate, Cory. He's "not a big product guy"

20. Took a double step aerobics class (yes - with TWO step benches - half the workout is just trying not to fall down!) after having a beer at happy hour, then paid for it the rest of the night.

21. Presented Broc with a liberal hat that will never be worn

22. Spent $370 at Linens N Things just because they were going out of business

So how, my friends, can you call me a slacker????

You Only Live Once, Right?

I've been pretty busy and don't have time to write a new blog right now, but I did manage to pull something out from the email sent folder vault. This is two emails from back in November 2006 - sent about a week a part.

Here's the first email, sent November 6, 2005. The subject was "You Only Live Once, Right?"

In case you haven’t heard, this Sunday, November 12 is the MLS Cup Championship. What is the MLS Cup Championship? Glad you asked. MLS is major league soccer, and the cup championship is like the BCS Championship of soccer, only without Longhorn-hating computers. Or like the Super Bowl of soccer, only without indecent exposure (hopefully!) This year the championship game will be played between the New England Revolution and the Houston Dynamo at Pizza Hut Park in Frisco, TX.

So you may be asking, what does this have to do with me? Well, a few months back I started taking a hip hop dance class once a week. No, I do not look cool doing hip hop, and no, I am not planning on quitting my day job. It’s simply a different form of exercise, because I get so freaking bored doing the same workout day after day at the gym. So I go to hip hop to work up a sweat, and believe me, if you are looking to expand your workout horizons, I sweat more in hip hop than I do most of the time at the gym.

Well, my hip hop teacher (the one who hangs out with Justin Timberlake when he swings through town, go figure) told us a few weeks ago that he was choreographing the halftime show for the MLS Cup Championship and needed “like 500” dancers for the event. See where this is going?

Which brings me to the subject of my email – you only live once! Yes – you guessed it. I was somehow possessed to sign up to shake my booty at the MLS Cup halftime show. Although judging from the email list, “like 500” dancers is actually less than 100, many of whom have music video credits on their resume, which is kind of scary for me. Nevertheless, I’m going to try to hang with the best, and if nothing else, get a good workout. I’ll be dancing with a “major recording artist,” although I don’t know who that is yet and how major is major. But I do know past performers have included Michelle Branch and Christina Aguilera, so we’ll see.

There was one moment of uncertainty: When I inquired about the costumes and how revealing they might be, the production company responded that there would be revealing tops, but that I could opt to wear one of the t-shirts printed to match the tops, which I think means I can opt to wear the boys costume. I felt bad asking, but I was just having flashbacks to my junior year of college when I got talked into dancing in the high school drill team alumni dance (arrive for rehearsal – learn that dance style is lyrical – practice all day – learn that costume is a lyrical dress made of spandex-like fabric – threaten to quit – Mom gets upset – end up dancing and looking like a fool anyways). Sounds like we won’t have a repeat of that sad, sad incident.

So, set your Tivo’s boys and girls! The game will air live on ABC at 2:30PM Central time on Nov. 12. Maybe you can catch a glimpse of me trying not to look like an idiot! And if there are any soccer fans in Dallas, there are tickets available at Ticketmaster starting at $35!

Well, now that I have announced it to the world, I guess there’s no backing out! Wish me luck – and try not to laugh too hard!!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now here's the 2nd email, sent November 11, 2006

I CAME
I SAW
I QUIT

Let me explain to you why you won’t be seeing me on TV tomorrow afternoon…

I arrived at Pizza Hut Park at 9AM this morning – it was sunny but with temperatures in the 40s, so I was freezing cold. I did say hi to several people that were in my hip hop class in my age range (they are mostly in their 20s). These are the people I told you about, the ones with music videos on their resume who take class six days a week instead of once a week for exercise purposes like me. Turns out these people that I knew that were close to my age had already learned the real dance to be performed in the middle of the field. So where did that leave me? I was sent to “Group B” with a bunch of twelve year olds, and we proceeded to spend the next two hours learning choreography that included the pony, step clap step clap, making a circle, and waving hands from side to side. Not exactly the excitement and challenge I was expecting.

When I realized that it wasn’t getting any better, I started thinking about several things:
a) how cold I was
b) how I could really use a nap – 7:45AM is too early to wake up on a Saturday
c) how I was going to be late for a wedding shower because of today’s practice
d) how I was going to miss church because of tomorrow’s call time
e) that I had committed to spend 18 hours of my weekend doing the pony with people less than half my age, and
f) that I just plain look like an idiot.

Now, I’m not really what you would call a quitter or someone who breaks commitments. So I really struggled with the decision of what to do. Non-Quitter Kelly kept saying I’d made this commitment and advertised it to the world, I can’t back out now. Quitter Kelly kept going back to points a through f above, and trying to think of one person on that field who would miss me or even notice if I were gone. I mean doing the pony doesn’t exactly require a special skill set that only I possess. In the end, as you already know, Quitter Kelly prevailed.

I didn’t mention to any of the choreographers I was leaving, I just told the junior high girl next to me she was going to have to scoot over a slot, and I told the guy that checked us in that I wouldn’t be returning and therefore wouldn’t be needing a t-shirt tomorrow. So what’s done is done, and now I have a free afternoon to do things I probably shouldhave been doing anyways before I went senile and decided to sign up to voluntarily make a fool of myself.

So in the end, it just really wasn’t at all what I expected. I’m sure we’ll all get a good laugh out of this some day.

Profiles In Stupidity

I did something really stupid this weekend. I don't want you to think this is a rarity - I admit I do stupid things often. But this particular act of stupidity resulted in severe physical pain. And it made me start to think of all the times I did things I knew better than to do, but did them anyways, and paid a hefty price. Six things immediately came to mind. So maybe, by recounting them here, I can remind myself and others to think first, and avoid such dire consequences as I have experienced.

1. Never ride a wooden roller coaster with a sunburn
This is the thing I did this weekend. My aunt and uncle that I hadn't seen in seven years were visiting my family in Deer Park (the aunt and uncle that live in the awesome house in Park City, UT - skiing anyone?) We spent Sunday outside in the pool, then headed down to Kemah for dinner and to play on the boardwalk where they recently introduced a new wooden roller coaster. You might think that the stupid thing I did was to get sunburned in the first place, and you would be right. But that is a lesson I should have learned at least 20 times in my life. You might think that the stupid thing I did was to get on a roller coaster, but I am a thrill seeker, and it's hard to keep me from getting on a roller coaster at all. But never in a million years should I have gotten on a wooden roller coaster with a severe sunburn.

For those of you unfamiliar with the physics of wooden roller coasters - they are very jerky!!! Case in point - Texas Giant at Six Flags. I rode that once and only once, and immediately began searching for the nearest chiropractor. The roller coaster I rode on Sunday was called The Bullet and was not quite as violent as Texas Giant, but add to that a six-foot plus "little" brother squeezed into the car with you who insists on keeping his hands in the air the whole time (hands which he can't control and thus end up smacking his sunburned sister all over her second degree burns), and you've got a recipe for disaster. I could have bathed in Aloe and my skin would still be throbbing.

2. When snow skiing, always fall sideways
I have been snow skiing since I was a young child, but it wasn't until December 1999 that I learned this very basic lesson. When you fall backwards and your legs go straight up into the air and your skis come down and stick upright in the snow, and you feel a shooting pain through the back of your leg that results in 20 seconds of screaming bloody murder pain before your entire left side goes numb, well my friend, you just tore your ACL. On the first run. Of the first day. Of a once-in-every-three-years ski trip.

And then you are forced to spend the rest of your trip in the clinic and the next few weeks in a brace. Then you get to have knee surgery on December 30, 1999, and you get to see the Millennium New Year hit every country in the world from your hospital bed, that is if you haven't passed out from the pain or the pain medicine. Then you get to go through weeks of physical therapy, where making a complete rotation on a stationary bicycle is both excruciatingly painful and a major accomplishment. Then you get to learn how to walk upstairs because in one week you have to return to your college apartment on the third floor. Then you get to catch a break - because you get a handicap parking permit for use on campus. And then you have a lot more friends who want to carpool. So there is a silver lining.

3. Never question the Chinese woman who tries to sell you a green bean popsicle
It was June, 2005. I was doing some sight seeing in Beijing, and had just left the Dalai Lama Temple. It felt like 120 degrees outside, so the popsicle stand down the street looked very appealing. I saw several pictures of different ice creams and popsicles available, with the flavor identified in Chinese writing. I saw a picture of a green popsicle, and my mouth started watering at the thought of a cool, refreshing, lime treat. I told the woman at the cart (who barely spoke English) that I would have the lime popsicle. She said, "Green bean?" And I, thinking that she must have been referring to the color, said, "Yes, green popsicle."

I turned over my money and within seconds had the citric utopia in my hand. I tore open the wrapper and sunk my teeth into its cold, but welcome frost. And I nearly choked. I had just bitten off a good portion of a green bean flavored popsicle. Now I quite like green beans. Give me a can of French's cut beans with a little garlic salt, or my Weight Watchers oriental green bean recipe, and I'm happy. But a giant smushed up, frozen, sweet green bean... not so tasty. I coughed. I spit. I gagged. I dropped it in the nearest trash can. I ran back to the cart and promptly ordered an orange colored popsicle, which also happened to be orange flavor.

4. Never take someone you've been dating for only four months to an out of town wedding
I'm not going to go through this whole story. Many of you have heard it - it is commonly referred to as the "Worst Date Ever - Seriously." Since this story deserves its own blog (and one day I will post it), I'm going to leave it at this

5. Never try to catch a football unless you are 95% sure it will land safely in your hands
This is known as "the time Claire broke my finger." We were hanging out at a fishing tournament, and decided to play a little catch before the festivities began. Claire launched the football hard at my face, and I raised my hands to catch the ball in front of my face. I'm sure I squealed. I know I am a sissy. The ball hit my fingertips, jamming my left index finger into the nose of the football. It hurt. Bad. Within minutes my finger swelled up to the size of a 7-11 Big Dog. I ended up participating in the fishing tournament with a giant bag of ice wrapped around my hand.

After a few days I visited a doctor, who decided my finger was broken and that I needed to go through physical therapy. So the next few weeks I went a few times a week to open and close my left hand in the presence of a trained professional. The paraffin dips were nice, but it would have been better if I could have dipped both hands - you know to even it out.

Moral of the story - unless you are T.O. let the ball drop. (Note to T.O. - you are T.O. so you are expected to catch the ball).

And finally,

6. Don't ever sign up for a "Christian" dating service
It doesn't matter how desperate you are, or how many times your mom says, "I want to throw a wedding!" or "You know, you don't have to be married to have a baby!" If someone calls you and says something along the lines of "So when's a good time for you to come in so we can show you what we're all about?" what that really means is you are about to get suckered into paying lots of money. I know, I should have known better.

Here's when I knew I'd made a bad decision - first of all while I was a member the dating service had to change it's name (to Ultimate Singles - shameless un-plug) after lawsuits and accusations from people who thought they had been duped. Secondly, one of the first guys to contact me called me because he saw that I was a student at SMU and twenty seconds into our conversation, he asked if I knew anyone he could buy pot from. This from a supposed "Christian" dating service.

I was so disgusted by the service, the people I met, and myself for signing up for the thing in the first place. Aargh...

There - now you know I'm not always as smart and common-sensical as I appear.

Gay Hooker

This blog is actually a re-telling of one of my favorite stories of all time. This didn't happen personally to me, but I wish it did.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One afternoon last year my friend Chris was driving down Cedar Springs in Dallas. For those of you who don't live in Dallas, that is where all the lesbian and gay bars are. As he was driving he was talking on the phone (multitasking), and noticed a guy walking down the street. Chris looked a little closer, and determined that the guy looked familiar. He thought he knew him but couldn't place where. The guy saw Chris eyeing him, and waved. At this point Chris thought, "This guy must recognize me too - I really must know him." So Chris pulled over (ended his phone conversation) and rolled down the window. The guy said "Hey how's it going?" Chris said hi, then the guy asked if Chris could give him a ride down to the Melrose Hotel. Chris, still believing he knew this guy from somewhere, said sure, so the guy hopped in Chris' car.

As soon as Chris pulled out onto the street again, his front seat guest reached over to "touch" Chris and said, "So I figured we could get into some trouble." The guy then starts explaining to Chris what $20 will buy him. At this point, Chris realizes that he doesn't really know this guy, but that he has just accidentally picked up a gay hooker. The guy emphasizes that it will only cost $20 to enjoy the benefit of certain services (use your imagination), but Chris is so flustered at this point all he can say is "I don't have $20." Chris asked the guy to get out of his car, but Gay Hooker persisted. Finally Chris ended up giving the guy $10 just to get out of his car.

Now I'm still unclear as to why the guy looked familiar to Chris. Care to share anything with us, Vaca?

And finally the moral of the story is this: Always carry cash. You never know when you'll need to pay a hooker to get out of your car.

Online Networking

We’ve come a long way since Al Gore invented the internet. And while constant debate looms over who has the most prolific MySpace network or which dating website is most likely to get you some action, I decided to see for myself. In the name of research, I have been active on several websites lately whose goal is to connect people. So here is my take on the pros and cons of these websites.

Social
When several early versions like Friendster failed to take off, MySpace basically wrote the book on social networking. With over 50 million users, you can find profiles for everyone from Bob Barker to your high school chemistry teacher to three quarters of the people on the To Catch A Predator Dateline specials. Which leads me to my first and only pro for MySpace – everybody is doing it. Now I have closed my Myspace account (read more to find out why), but when I had one, I by no means had a vast network. But with such an extensive network available, you can get plugged into all kinds of stuff – celebrities, bands, my sisters’ dance studio, etc. But that’s where the pros end.

While MySpace would tout that the ability to customize your profile encourages expression of individualism, some users forgot that black text doesn’t really work well on a black background. I may have had 75 friends, but the number with profiles I could actually read? Much smaller. Another con for MySpace – people can easily spam your entire friends list with promises to eliminate your credit card debt or elongate certain body parts. And the biggest con (however also a source for entertainment) is that privacy is limited, which means that I get all kinds of fun emails from all kinds of interesting people. Case in point: excerpts from an email I once received from Benjamin in Nigeria, “hello sweet kproc how are you doing ?... i will like to marry you meshakproc…you have stolen my heart baby…for me when i was a child i told my mom that i will marry a usa lady if i have the chance and the chance have arrived and you standing as my wife it is a great thing to happen to my life . i promise you that i will not give up…baby love you” Now isn’t that romantic?

Why do I like Facebook? They win hands down on the stalk-ability meter. Every time you log in to Facebook you get a newsfeed of what’s going on with people in your network. For instance, if you were my Facebook friend, Facebooks’ newsfeed tells me who you recently added as friends, when you added pictures, and it even gives me your email address. I appreciate that the profiles are not cluttered with ads, crap, and unreadable profiles, but as a stalking enthusiast, Facebook wins it all based on this feature alone.

Another pro for Facebook is the fun applications you can attach to your profile. Any of my Facebook friends can click on my profile and see a map of the cities I’ve visited, play Oregon Trail with me, or see that I scored a 53 on Dr. Phil’s personality test. But what is a pro can also be a con. Many times when you try to add an application, Facebook sends messages to your friends asking them to also add the application.

But let us remember why we’re really on these social networking sites. I mean who doesn’t want to rekindle their friendship with the hoochie “best friend” who stole your boyfriend in ninth grade or planted a lit cigarette in your prom dress after downing a bottle of Everclear? That, my friends, is what social networking is all about.

Professional
I’m not too familiar with Linkedin’s competition, so I’ll just focus on what it does. Linkedin is a professional networking website that takes the Kevin Bacon game to a whole new level. I have 115 direct Linkedin connections, which means I’m two degrees away from 9300+ professional contacts, which means I’m three degrees away from 772,300+ professional contacts, which means if I ever feel like becoming a rodeo clown, I’m just a friend of a friend away from THREE people who can help me get my floppy red clown shoe in the door. Sure, an MBA with an accounting emphasis may not be the experience they are looking for, but at least we know someone in common. And once they see my skill in a barrel, they will change their mind.

Linkedin shows you who you’re connected to, but also allows you to input your resume details. So that if anyone is looking for someone just like you to fill some employment requisition, you are notified and can pop over your resume with a Randy Jackson-esque name drop.

Dating
I’m not sure why I’m outlining the pros and cons of a dating website to an audience likely composed primarily of married or practically married couples, but I know you are just dying to know how I keep my social calendar stuffed with dates with hot, rich, successful men. So here’s how it works…

On Eharmony you take a ridiculously long and detailed assessment aimed at getting to understand the core of you. How do you react to certain situations, do you doodle animals or symbols, and how long is your index finger in relation to your ring finger? You know – important stuff. Then as long as you aren’t one of the people who get that dreaded response, “We’re sorry but there is a small population of people we just can’t help. Good luck!” (my sister got it – it’s not a joke), then you are thrown into a database with 13 million other “eligible” singles. You are sent matches based on compatibility, which means you actually have to be matched via Eharmony’s system, you can’t just go out and browse anyone’s profile. Then you go through a series of communication steps (answering multiple choice questions, answering short answer questions, sending a list of likes/dislikes, etc.) before you can actually communicate openly back and forth. That means that if you haven’t lost interest after the three weeks it takes you to get there, you may actually get to have an unscripted conversation with this person.

Match.com, on the other hand, is a virtual free for all. With over 15 million singles actively looking for love, you can find just about anyone (including your boss, your sisters’ pet hamster and your co-workers’ husband). You can view who you want, wink at who you want, and email who you want. Of course this works both ways, and I’m still confused as to why a man my dad’s age who got his GED last year and chews tobacco thinks I might be interested in him when my profile clearly specifies otherwise. So there is some filtering to be done, but once you get past that you can surely find some entertainment in running a search for 27-38 year old men 5’10” and taller within 30 miles of your zip code that have never been married, don’t smoke, make $150K+ annually, have no kids, have a PhD and are Christian then winking at them and seeing if any write back (probably not because your body type in your profile is described as “about average”). Of course I speak hypothetically.

When you put them side by side, I choose match.com even though my chances of being in a television commercial are now drastically reduced. Match has more opportunity to meet people (Eharmony is often criticized for limiting matches and excluding same-sex matches), it’s cheaper, and it’s just more entertaining. And if you are interested in dating someone who drinks a lot of hurricanes then passes out in the floor of a church nursery where he has vomited and urinated, well match.com is the place to look. Again, I speak hypothetically.

One final note: If you think Craig’s List is the place to find a nice young man or woman to spend the rest of your life with – well I highly suggest you do not try to prove that on your work computer. That’s what a personal computer is for.

So in conclusion, find someone you like on match.com, see how many degrees separate you on Linkedin, then stalk them on Facebook. It obviously works for me.