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Happy Valentine's Day! February 14, 2009

Posted by Katie Oh in : Such As , 3comments

brucedancingvalentine

This might be the best valentine ever.

Nothing has really happened recently. I decided online dating was a bust and got a haircut. A 20-dollar haircut, at that!

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A $20 haircut in nyc is, for the record, unheard of. We’re talking the cheapest cuts at the sketchy salons will runyou at least $40. But at the Aveda Institute, the students do cuts for $20, since they need like 100 hours of haircutting. So the cut took like an hour and a half, but was totally worth it. Clearly.

And, now, for your viewing pleasure, have this year-old SNL sketch wherein Andy Samberg professes his love for Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. There is, obviously, nothing more worthy.

[vodpod id=Groupvideo.2092706&w=425&h=350&fv=]

more about "Iran So Far: Saturday Night Live", posted with vodpod

Good News and Cute Things February 4, 2009

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So, I’ve been asked to write for the Norwin Star, a little paper that serves my local area at home. My first real gig! I approve. I’m going to be writing about New York versus small-town-Pittsburgh, connections I am constantly making, and the things I love about the area.

And, the cutest thing I’ve seen all day: http://niemann.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/02/i-lego-ny/

A man, now living in Berlin, sees New York in his children’s Legos.

Steelers, Peelers, and Good News February 4, 2009

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Well, my team did it. The Steelers are now the most Super Bowl-winningest team in the NFL. And Bruce! Bruce with his slide into the camera and the fact that he’s still so cute after all these years. That 100-yard interception, I was hooting and hollering all the way through. Troy Polamalu’s hair now covers part of his numbers: that’s my team.

And then, I got word: the man who sells vegetable peelers in Union Square passed away. I remember the first time I ever visited Union Square with my family, noticing the man and thinking “I wonder what he’s all about?” He sold these peelers every day, at the upper left-hand corner of the square, right outside the farmer’s market.

Turns out he had an apartment on Park Avenue and sent his daughter to an Ivy League school. The New York Times, curious as I, wrote an article about him a few months ago. How he managed to wear that khaki suit every day, sitting on a small bench on the sidewalk with his demo vegetables. Peelers, every day, and wealth. And now, no longer. I had always meant to buy one.

And then: my cousin Jen is officially engaged. How exciting engagements are! All the planning. Allegedly, (or, rather, last time I heard) they’re planning on Mexico, a destination wedding. Love and beaches. I will be there.

Yes, You Can January 30, 2009

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“So I have a date tomorrow,” I announced to the circle of my friends at the diner. Jenny gave me A Look.

“That’s not a ‘date’ voice.”

“I know…” I trailed off. A handful of us signed up for OkCupid and I had agreed to meet a guy for lunch.

“It’s not about the date. It’s about knowing that you CAN go on the date.”

And that, I suppose, is true: after spending the past year and a half or so pouring all my spare time into writing, I haven’t even found myself actively thinking that anyone I’ve come across is cute.

So, it was a date. Or, rather, a lunch, which was nice. I woke up with the beginnings of a headcold, so by the time I’d stomped my way into Manhattan, my head was all foggy and I could barely understand the menu. He’s a law student at NYU, did undergrad in Arizona. The irony, immediately, was that our home teams were facing off in the Super Bowl. He mentioned that the Cardinals aren’t really even paid that much attention to. I explained the Black and Gold phenomenon. I’d never had any Thai before, save for a taste of curry once, and was pleasantly surprised by the cuisine.

And, really, it was nice. It was an interesting change of pace to go from artistically creative people to someone more… logical, so to speak. I think I’d like to go out with him again, when I am not worried my brains are going to drip out of my nose.

And, of course, the reason my brains were dripping out: my kindergarteners. I started back last Thursday, and was immediately clung to by one of the little boys. The teacher looked wide-eyed, pointing to him and telling me “He doesn’t touch anyone.” That’s why I love my job. Even if some days they drive me up a wall, the little arms wrapped around my legs make it worth it. Tying their little shoes is worth it. Putting their coats on is worth it. I love my job.

I am also rather in love with school this semester: I have an old standby professor teaching me Shakespeare. I was idly chatting with Allie before class began, and I overheard him say something about Hudson University. My ears perked up.

“Don’t any of you watch Law and Order?” He asked. “Hudson University. If a co-ed gets murdered, they’re at Hudson. Pratt’s a stand-in, they’re always filming here and bringing stars.” Ahhh, I missed Doloff.

And my poetry studio with Christian Hawkey, a tall, soft-spoken man who just got back from Berlin. Eric Rosenblum, who reminds me of my cousin Jen’s boyfriend, for linked short stories, wherein we will only write two pieces. Sociology with a quirky PhD student from the New School. My World Civ professor used to work at the United Nations and draws intense connections in history. It is a varied schedule that is keeping me on my toes.

That’s all I’m looking for, what I need, really: to be kept on my toes. I haven’t been sleeping more than about 9 hours a night recently, which is actually a good thing: no more lazing around.

Rob Blagejovich: A Member of the Whig Party? January 22, 2009

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that hair, man… just makes you look like even more of a buffoon, fyi.

Wrap-Up January 7, 2009

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Well, it’s been a while. You know how it goes. I’m typing this from the Greensburg Starbucks, due to a lack of wireless interweb at my own abode.

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This is, more or less, what I’ve looked like for the entirety of my break. For whatever reason, I have been absurdly cold: I was wearing tank tops and jeans in the apartment in Brooklyn, but at home, fleece pj pants and a hoodie aren’t enough! I don’t get it. It’s not like it’s that much colder here than there, if it’s colder at all.

I worked my ass off from the day after I got home til now. In 15 days, I worked 70 hours. Egad! And then this week, only 9. How strange. I guess people are sobering up after the merriment and looking at the dire state of our economy. Holy shit, that’s maybe the most depressing thing I’ve ever written. Damnit, America!

Christmas was nice. I got… stuff. Well, I got some clothes, socks and underwear (haha, thanks mom!), and various body stuff. Oh, wait, I also got THE BEST PRESENT EVER.

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That? Is a bracelet made of typewriter keys. I KNOW, RIGHT?! Jen and Ted are awesome. I am pretty much absolutely in love with it. When I wear it as well as my cupcake necklace, I feel like I ~show the world who I am~. The only thing that could make the ensemble any more ~me~ would be, like, a ring that played the Law and Order “dun dun” at random intervals. SRSLY.

New Year’s was uneventful. I fell asleep before midnight due to general exhaustion and didn’t really care. That’s life, I guess!

I went shopping with Heather, a long, windy drive through mountains to a quaint outlet mall. I gave myself a $100 limit and walked out with a new pair of Puma sneakers, three tops and a dress from Banana Republic, and a teeshirt from Converse. I am awesome at deals.

I am sorry I am not writing about something with more substance. I have been all over the place so far this break. However, I think I am coming around to some sort of happy medium. I am ready to go back to school and kick some ass.

New Year’s Resolutions:

I will not put up with anyone’s unnecessary bullshit.

I will not let my schoolwork interfere with my well-being.

I will not let myself fall into any social holes.

I will not keep counting magazines as “reading.”

I will not buy books until I have read and liked them. (Also, I will get a library card.)

I will not let myself make stupid excuses for not taking risks.

Simplicity December 14, 2008

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Two of my kindergartners informed me that they are boyfriend and girlfriend.

I was keeping an eye on them (they were two of four misbehaving when the teacher was trying to get them to learn the lyrics to “The Twelve Days of Christmas”) and noticed that they were sitting funny: heads down, facing each other, with one arm on the table and the other hanging down. I ducked my head down to look under the table.

They were holding hands.

“Lamont,” I asked later as he gave me a big hug, “are you and Taerica friends?” He smiled, cupped his hands around my ear, and whispered their secret to me.

If only things could be that easy for the rest of our lives! Just that kindergarten secrecy about holding hands and kissing on the playground.

We held a party on Thursday, “fancy dress encouraged.” Amber and I busted out black cocktail dresses. It was generally fabulous. I made a wicked punch that was worth its weight in gold. Yum.

To say that the end of the semester has been weighing on me would be a laughable understatement: i have roughly 25 pages of writing to do for my World Civ class alone, not to mention my re-written screenplay for my Screenwriting class, and one last article for Journalism.

Being overwhelmed is annoying. Only a few more days, then I get to go back to my city. :D

First Snow December 7, 2008

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Yesterday evening: I woke up from a nap, and everything was a little slick. The hoods of cars were just ever-so-slightly dusted. A-ha! That’s what I’ve been missing. The chill has been here, the wind that chaps my ears, but not those flakes.

I skipped my World Civ class the other day, on the heels of the prof not returning my email. I decided on Union Square: I needed a book, a Starbucks Gold Card [don't judge!,] and a present for a Secret Santa exchange I’ve orchestrated for an online community I belong to.

I got out of the Subway station, and the first vehicle I laid my eyes on was one that had a sign proclaiming that it was part of the Law and Order SVU crew. I squealed, only loud enough to hear my own excitement. I caught a passing glimpse of Mariska Hargitay: gorgeous, as I suspected.

I got my drink at Starbucks and sipped it as I cooed to the cats that are up for adoption at Petco. I always feel bad, especially around the holidays, for those cats. You just want them to have a home. I dropped a few dollars in the donation box.

Barnes and Noble was interesting in the way that Barnes and Noble is always an interesting experience for me: it reminds me that I need to read more. I am truly under-read for a writing major. Although, I guess, less under-read than a classmate of mine who has never even read The Great Gatsby [?!?!] or a girl I know who’s never even flipped through To Kill A Mockingbird. I made lists in my head of all these books: I somehow doubt the Irwin library has most of them, but I am sure I will get to them, preferably sooner, rather than later.

I went to Trader Joes, with the winding line and smiling employees and left with two full bags [$30 worth of groceries?!] that made my shoulders ache. Eggplant Parmesan, the ingrediants costing some $8, fed Amber and I for no less than three meals. And I have a bag of pasta and half a can of sauce left over. Mushroom turnovers still in the freezer for our upcoming cocktail party. You know.

I got home that night and was greeted by a message from a ex, apologixing [!] for a series of events that occured some 2-3 years ago. [!!!] Said he was trying to make amends. I, being perpetually apprehensive, not only after said events spurred by him, but the ones occuring after it, accepted his apology in the way that you can only do after time and 600 miles have passed. A “you’re forgiven,” but in the way that, after reflection, I’ve realized what a stronger person it’s made me.

Last night, I was half-tucked-in, watching TV online, when Amber yelled into my room: “Want to go to Julie’s birthday party?” I considered, and pulled on a sweater and a pair of jeans, abandoning the manufactured New York for the real one. The party was half a block away, in an apartment a shade nicer than ours, with most of the guests being people I had never met. It was nice to meet people again, a few writing majors I didn’t know, over popcorn and drinks. Julie gave us hugs as we left, and immortalized the evening with a picture of us next to some strange tiki idol the owners of the apartment acquired. In the photograph, which has yet to actually reach me, I have one arm wrapped around it, and am laughing, eyes closed, red-faced. Enjoying the moment.

Vagina Plate December 1, 2008

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“Here, put the turkey on this,” my cousin Lisa said, handing one of two large platters she was holding to her husband, Bobby.

“Oh, it’s Vagina Plate,” he said. Lisa began to laugh, and I stuck my head under the cabinets and over the counter to get a look.

And there it was: the artist clearly had had the best of intentions, with the grapes detailing the edges of the porcelain and other fruit painted around it, but in the center was a [peach? pomegranate?] that had been illustrated as if cut open, and the centers looked like… you guessed it.

“I just kind of feel strange eating from this,” he said.

I had come home on Tuesday evening, after a quick lunch with my friends at the local diner. I was exhausted: have been for a few days. Watched 30 Rock, ordered a pizza, collapsed.

Wednesday, I sold $10,000 worth of booze in a 7-hour shift. I alternated between “have a nice day,” “have a nice weekend,” and “have a nice holiday.” A man came to my register, and after I ended our exchange with the latter, he said “screw that, say ‘have a merry Christmas.’ They’re trying to take the Christ out of Christmas!”

He assumed I was just being PC, or that I was secretly in contempt of having to refer to “holidays” instead of “Christmas.” I, taken aback, explained that Thanksgiving was the holiday to which I was referring. I don’t think he understood.

Thursday was Turkey Day, two dinners, one at Polly and Fuddy’s, one at Lisa and Bobby’s. Lisa announced that Christmas would be at her place this year, with the theme of “Christmas Around the World.” My mother quickly called Ireland.

“I kind of wanted to choose Ethiopia,” my Aunt Cheryl said. “I could just bring an empty bowl.”

My mother and I went Black Friday shopping. We didn’t trample anyone to death, but I did get a really awesome hat from Kohl’s. And the The Dress from Lane Bryant: beautiful black cocktail dress, one left, in my size. The best sort of retail therapy.

We had to leave Lisa and Bobby’s before the festivities totally wound down. I didn’t feel awful about it, being as that I would be seeing them all again in less than a month for all the family hug-time that happens at the holidays.

“Don’t forget to mention this,” Bobby said, motioning to the family, most of whom were still sitting at the table. “And Vagina Plate.”

Indeed.

A Change Of Pace November 23, 2008

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So I got a few emails about the inability to post comments on the first draft of my blog, so I decided to say screw it, and hop on over here to wordpress. iWeb is nice, but it takes forever to load on most peoples’ computers and isn’t really worth it in the long run. Plus, with WordPress I can update from wherever. And I don’t feel like I have to make such a big production about every single post.

So, yes. Here we go. The header there is just temporary, I promise. I’ll fandangle this to be all lovely and crap ASAP. I’ll also slowly move some of my old posts [the more relevant ones] over here.

KatieOh.com, version 2.0. What a lovely feeling.