Presidentals and Their Pensions.

So last night the President and Mr. Republican were apart of yet another civilized and meaningful debate. If you watched the debate in its entirety, congratulations, you win as American of the Year. While you were fact-checking the rest of us were opening a bottle of red to then tune in the last hour for pure entertainment purposes. Both candidates had their passive aggressive pants on but neither had the Presidential hair of the likes of Kennedy or Reagan. My reactions are as follows…

Romney: Jeremy, if you are illegal, you can get a job working at my house.

Me: Your current household staff would never go for that.

Romney: Blah blah blah fast and furious.

Me: We have seven sequels, with five of those starring Ludacris! Is it ever enough?!

Romney: We went to several women's groups and asked for folks to help. They came back with "binders full of women."

Me: Binders full of women is something you find in a serial killer's apartment on a Lifetime movie.

Obama: ...I'm talking about getting rid of the criminals, the gang bangers..

Me: Romney will now google "gang bangers" during the next commercial break.

Obama: Can you say that a little louder, Candy?

Me: Judging from her name she is undoubtably from Arkansas and sports a scrunchie on the daily.

Obama: I haven't looked at my pension. It's not as big as your's.

Me: Are we still talking about pensions here?

Me: When is Paul Ryan going to be done doing his P90X video and come give his best pageant wave?

Go vote (early). They give you a sticker.

XOXO.

weekend debrief.

Grace Potter played two shows at the Ryman and we were in front-row pews for both.

The girl loves Nashville almost as much as she loves short dresses and a spiked heel, so put on a show she did. Friday night she covered Crazy on You and then decided to put a Nocturnal spin on Madonna's Like a Prayer for the second encore.
Saturday she took off her heels and danced around the stage after telling the "ghosts of the Mother Church" to come out and play. 

 After meeting her parents and shaking her hand I feel like we're basically best friends. Come back soon, Grace.

xoxo

Dear B: Is She Serious?

Hi B,

I am so confused. I don't usually read blogs (other than your's) but I read this one by accident, of course, and now I'm starting to question every female over the age of 29.

Actual Blog Excerpt:
"I feel weird in one way (there are like 10) because I emailed an old friend the other day.  He's such a Houdini (I am starting that, it's going to be all over the place - it means the kind of man who DISAPPEARS all the f*cking time for no reason).  We are friends - friends who have made out.  But we've both dated other people - I don't know. And he can do the BEST impression of Chewbacca.  Also, once we were all watching football with my friends when he visited me in Atlanta and some of my dicky guy friends were like - "eat this wing, it's so hot, it's the hottest wing ever" and he said, "awe no, I can't..." then grabbed the hell out of that wing and ate ALL THE HOTTEST ONES then taunted the guys - seriously, I don't know when I've been more turned on.  I wanted to rip off my "Go Gators" t-shirt in the middle of the sports bar.  Still - what an impressive moment...sexy. Is it strange I find that sexy?  Would most gals agree?  A man eating hot wings like that - God, it was so MANLY and WEIRD!  It makes me melt thinking about it.  "You had me at 'screw yal bring me MORE of your p**** wings'" - ah."

How much should one divulge in terms of what "turns them on" and how do you stay classy while still speaking the truth?

Mazel tov,
K****


Dear Republican Liz Lemon,

Kudos for not losing faith in the World Wide Web completely after reading that "blog post" - assuming you were sober I'm sure that was a hardship you weren't expecting to bear on a weekday.

I do applaud this "blogger" on her ability to censor herself, although classy she is not. No one wants to know what turns you on if what turns you on is a man "eating hot wings like that." But hello, you didn't even address the biggest question here - WHY does this woman own (and publicly wear) a "Go Gators" t-shirt? I'm not even going to address the Chewbacca impression since this guys sounds like a real catch.

My advice to you is to never ever ever ever read what homeslice puts out there, that is unless you are looking for terrible relationship ponderings and unwarranted cat references.

xoxo,
Katie

Jack Goes to Jackson.

Last night Jack played in my hometown, in the same establishment where I grew up performing - dance recitals, talent shows and really gay musicals. So yes, it was a bit strange seeing everybody backstage as they were, laying around listening to Buck Owens before rocking the hell out of the place - and rock the hell out of the place they did. The craziest act that building had ever seen prior to Mr. White coming to town was my "risque dancing-on-a-table" sequence in the 2004 production of Bye Bye Birdie. Yep, that actually happened. 

SO as you can now imagine, it certainly did not suck seeing Jack and his incredibly talented cohorts completely own it. 

Talk about a religious experience. 

See? Pretty much the same. (said no one ever)

Almost Friday!

XOXO.

s*** my (totally sober) co-worker says.

I love where I work. It's great. Nice place, funny people, plenty of fancy pens, no mean kids yelling at me while eating hot cheettos and I am free to use the bathroom anytime I want. YES. So all day every day I'm working along, making it all happen, and then my twenty-something, non-intern, totally sober co-worker speaks. Instead of explaining the comedic value of statements made on any given day I've recorded several "treats" for you to appreciate and ponder how many black cats bit said co-worker during childhood. 

"I've had my dancing days, like I've always wanted to be a Rockette."

"Why did I win tickets to that Gavin DeGraw concert? Because I'm always on Facebook, but never my personal page, no."

"I kinda want to do a back handspring but there's not enough floor space."

"I'm the reason we have to sign a waiver before department outings."

"Last year I dressed as the Twitter Fail Whale for Halloween-at-work-day and squirted everyone with a water gun."

To another co-worker: "Happy Parenthood Day! (awkward silence) I just saw your Facebook conversation with _____ about it!"

"I love Kelly Clarkson."

"Yes, I watched all seven season of "One Tree Hill" in two weeks." 

"Why didn't I send in a tape for 'The Bachelor?' I am cuter than all of those girls."

***Disclaimer: I do believe said co-worker means well and maybe one day will realize the error of the aforementioned ways... so as my mother would say, Bless!

Go register to vote. Now. XOXO

Silhouettes are everything.

There are shows on tv that are awesome, and then there's Honey Boo Boo. I refuse to get into that for fear of losing you forever - you're welcome. So while I rarely have the time or attention span to watch anything for longer than 30-ish minutes I have found myself falling back in love with Mad Men. Why? John Hamm in a suit, for starters. Also because it's everything I love wrapped into one series - great storyline, an always evolving ad agency, vintage everything, attractive people who are also interesting and the fashion. I die for pretty much everything worn by any female on any given episode.  So yes, the show itself is educational really for us twenty-something vixen career types, teaching invaluable lessons for work and play through chic leading ladies, i.e. Betty, Joan and Peggy. 

So what have we learned?

Attractive bosses make work more fun.

A fitted pencil skirt and heels are always flattering.

A good lunch outing makes everything better.

Pearls and diamonds are baller. 

If you feel like he's going to cheat on you he probably already has. More than once.

If you want to be taken seriously stop dressing like a little girl.

Embrace feminine fabrics. Oh, and fitted dresses. Silhouettes are everything.

Only boring people are bored.

Don't throw your significant other a surprise party and make yourself the entertainment. It will always be awkward.

Ask for what you want.

Happy Monday,
xoxo. 

Yep, I was right.

Chris Thile really is a genius.

I have always been a fan of his mandolin-based, bluegrass sound, from his solo albums to his latest and greatest with The Punch Brothers. He was the perfect conversationalist when we watched Super Jam at Bonnaroo together, going on and on about his love for the Ryman while randomly breaking out into small jigs. So yes, while sometimes he looks fifty shades of awkward I find him hilarious and above all, mad talented. Also note that my friend and life coach, Beth, has a serious obsession for him that far trumps my 12 yr. old unhealthy obsession with Justin Timberlake. 

So whether you're a fan or not, it's time to give the man mad props for being the youngest of 23 people awarded a $500,000 MacArthur Foundation "genius grant" Monday. The news came as a complete surprise since recipients don't even know they've been nominated until they get a phone call of congratulations - nominators remain anonymous and winners have to wait two months before telling the world.

My favorite is that it took several attempts to get Thile to actually answer the phone since he's awesome and screens unknown numbers. His tour manager finally googled the number and when MacArthur popped up they called right back...after Thile picked himself off the floor of his Ryman dressing room. 

So basically he is deemed a genius and will receive $500,000 over the course of 5 years to do whatever he wants to do. Word on the street, aka Rolling Stone, is that he plans on purchasing a vintage 1925 Gibson F5 - there were only 200 made - and funding a new bluegrass quintet of sorts. 

I don't care what he does as long as he keeps making great music and doesn't shave his head. Congratulations, Mr. Thile.