Year End Report:

Google Analytics gives me a lot of stats that are completely not useful to me, but I still find it interesting, because they're about me.

For example, I had 2501 visitors this year on the blog, 400 more visitors than last year, 613 unique visitors, twice as many as last year, and on average, people spent less than a minute on the site, which is actually way less than they spent on the site last year on average, suggesting that a lot more people are finding my webpage for the first time, but then instantly realizing they're in the wrong place. 

What were these people searching for? Well, that's where my second edition of  "I'm pretty sure you didn't find what you were looking for" comes in. Here are my top ten winners of 2011 (for the record, because thanks to google analytics I have a record, I had 99 absolute zingers to choose from), in no particular order:

1. Stalking Cartoonists Makes Me Pee Myself
2. Other People Don't Think I'm Funny
3. Adult Braces Site: Blogspot.com
4. Coors Light Cake
5. Funny Maths Exam Answers Calculator
6. Kimwaw Corn Cakes
7. My Mom Makes Me Wear Diapers Because I Got The Runs On A Car Trip
8. Stuff to Confuzz Your Friends
9. Silver the 85 Year Very Oldman

and finally, last, and most personally hurtful:

10. Ugly Little Blonde Girl With Braces and Glasses

Maybe I did learn something from Google Analytics... I talk about cake way more than I thought, and the internet in comprised of a bunch of idiot perverts.

Second verse, same as the first!

So, I planned on looking back at my early 2011 posts, and using them to illustrate how much I've changed this year, and BOY was I disappointed. I'm still an adult non-student who wears cat-hair shirts to the grocery store to buy cheap beer in the middle of the afternoon, except now I'm unemployed, which is just the icing on the shit cake. I still dress like an old man and expect people to think I'm cute, and I still may or may not be retarded.

Although it was not an excellent year for personal growth, a lot of good has come from 2011. I joined an improv group (www.blacktopcomedy.com go see it, its fantastic), started writing stand-up material (as of two days ago), I bought a car (haggled the SHIT out of the dealer, cried, pitched a fit, and now I can never go back there). I watched a record number of movies in theaters this year: Jane Eyre, Super 8, Bridesmaids, Source Code, Midnight in Paris, The Muppets, and tonight we're going to see TinTin in 3D! I also ate a record number of Papa Murphy's pizzas (an average of one every 2.5 weeks).

Looking back in the year in posts, I am sad that I accidentally abandoned (read: forgot about) my Gross Food Photography project. The Calimonter was such a disgusting gem. I also completely forgot about my Facebook page, and it got archived. Also, I forgot about my childhood bank account, which had 25 cents in it, and was closed for inactivity. I grieved over that for about six straight minutes. I'm going to try not to forget so much in 2012.


On this day last year, I requested "more of the same", and although I didn't really get that, I can't complain. For 2012 however, I request money. Cold, hard cash. And a lot of it.

I take it back.

I need to retract a statement I made earlier in regards to the worst beer I have ever had. I was wrong, Silver Stallion has been stripped of the title of worse-beer-ever. Don't get me wrong, its still a terrible, terrible beer. But it isn't the worst.

This review is of the actual worst beer I have ever had: Game-Day Ice. And I wasn't expecting a lot from the 7-11 produced sister beer of Game Day Light, at $2.99 for a twelve pack, and the notorious 'ice beer' label, it was cringe-inducing before I even cracked open the can.

The beer had color; a dark yellow, but absolutely no head. It was as flat as apple juice. In fact, we continued to compare it to apple juice throughout the taste-test. It smelled like a rotten fruit factory, and who the hell would manufacture rotten fruit? The taste was like corn syrupy garbage. It stuck in your mouth like peanut butter. Clearly the phrase "premium brewed" means nothing. Mike managed to take one sip. I drank 3 cans, because, well, we had 12. As I was drinking, I continued to search for adjectives to describe this  terrible beer, but it was decided one dimensional.

So the taste was terrible, and the smell was rank, but Game-Day Ice didn't clinch the title of Worst Beer Ever until 5am the next morning, when I started what would prove to be a seven hour vomit-fest. I threw-up everything I had ever eaten in my entire life, violently. I couldn't keep down ice, which I found someone ironic. Maybe more unfortunate than ironic... Anyway, Game-Day Ice is now a swear word in our house. It should not be consumed by anyone, its not even fit to be cooked with.

Game-Day Ice, Earning my lowest beer rating ever: F

Nobody likes a winner

I've gotten pretty good at picking out mediocre beers to review, and my most recent choice, Olympia, had real promise.

Retro label, limited information on the box, tell-nothing slogan, $7.99 for a twelve pack; All the signs were there.

Olympia is an American Adjunct Lager, which is quickly becoming my favorite type of beer to review. In the back of my head, I'm always comparing American Lagers to Budweiser, and I'm learning that its harder to emulate Budweiser than you might think; most of the time you end up with skunky fart juice.

However I admit, the box is pretty cool, in a stuff-you-find-in-your-grandparent's-basement kind of way. It looks like a failed attempt at Halloween-themed Poland Springs campaign. And the slogan, "It's the Water" apparently refers to the quality of water used in the beer making process, but I had to go online and find that out. 

On to the review. My first observation was that Olympia had remarkably rich color, head, and lacing. Far better than your average American Lager.

If you recall my last review of Silver Stallion, it was the worst beer I have ever reviewed, and possibly the worst I've ever tasted. So, I was a little hesitant to try something new. I allowed my fiancee to take the first sip, after which he remarked,  "It's beer." He's my junior reviewer. 

It's a good beer, not a great beer, but even so I'm at a loss for words. I've never had an opportunity to review a good beer before. Its got an enjoyable light taste that doesn't turn rank when it warms. Maybe there's something in the water afterall. 

I give Olympia B- within its field. I prefer it over Budweiser, merely for its hipster appeal. There. I said it.  

A Beer in Review

I have been writing reviews of mediocre beer for over a year now. Not as often as I would like to, but often enough to see a trend. I drink I lot of random crap.

Today we will be looking at Silver Stallion. Found at the same discount grocery store that introduced me such gems as Hamm's and  Tecate, Silver Stallion is an American lager brewed by City Brewing Company, the brewery that is responsible for Game-Day Light. Now, Silver Stallion was $2.99 for a six pack and that is twice the price of the Game-Day Light, so one can assume that it would be twice as good. One would be wrong.

An entire post could be devoted just to the labeling on the can, but I'll keep it brief.

First of all, the lettering is reminiscent of bottle of blue Gatorade. Secondly, the title Silver Stallion sounds more like a pet-name that you give your geriatric lover than is does an American lager. Although interesting enough, the beer is equally gag-inducing. Beer companies love referencing horses in their name, remember Caballo Extra? If I ever make a beer, I'm going to call it Donkey Punch.

As the label indicates, it is best served cold, very cold. In fact, it could probably benefit from a couple of ice cubes. It happens to be the exact color that your pee is the morning after you drink heavily, a phenomenon that I fondly refer to as the "Betsy-Wetsy Effect". The beer smells like apple cider vinegar mixed with farts, and tastes like warm Coors Light. On a more positive note, its highly carbonated.

That is the only positive note.

Awkward things to say to a stranger

Part II of the endless series "Awkward things to say to a stranger" Front Desk Edition!

A man walks in and asked if his wife had been in yet.

"Nope! You beat her! I mean, you got here first. I don't mean you beat her. There's no way I'd know that. I haven't even seen her."

Awkward things to say to a stranger

In conjunction with my future segment called, "Weird things I say at an Interview" I present to you,

Awkward Things to Say to a Stranger, eleven-year-old girl edition:

"Your family lives over on Halifax? That's a nice neighborhood. Someday I hope to make enough money to rent a home out there. I'm just kidding. That'll never happen."

What was more awkward was that the joke totally landed,  and she let out this ridiculous single "HA!". I finally found my target market.

In defense of Game Day Light

In an attempt to prove that there must be SOMETHING to appreciate about Game Day Light, we decided to attempt the Beer Can Chicken project. The simple (and ridiculously cheap) recipe was as follows: 

Chicken from Nugget Market (99 cents/lb)

 Brown Sugar (negligible cost) 

Beer can stand from Grocery Outlet (2.99)

 One can on Game Day Light (25 cents)

We played with our food a little. This is the before picture, it makes me cringe, but I love it. We baked the chicken in the oven for about an hour and a half. Our house reeked of booze. We had to light a candle, but then it just smelled like apple blossom farts. I would suggest not lighting a candle, and just rolling with the booze-y smell.   

This meal would have easily fed four people. The end result was a crispy, moist, delicious chicken. We served it with Spanish rice. Incredibly easy, very cheap, and most importantly, appreciated.

Take that cynic critics!

Side note: next time, I would put down tin foil to catch the drippings. that pan will never be the same. 

Thank Heaven.

Seven Eleven has come out with convenience-store-quality beer. Finally.

While shopping at my local over-stock discount food store, and I was surprised to find a 12-pack of a previously unheard of beverage, Game-Day Light, for just $2.99. Without any deliberation about why a 12-pack of beer might be $2.99, I bought it. After all, it is advertised as a "Premium Beer". They wouldn't just say that.

And I was in good company. Immediately after I picked one up, a drunk (I can assume) Asian kid came up and filled his cart. When I saw him in the parking lot later, I asked if he had ever tried Game Day Light. He said that he had, and it was "Definitely, definitely worth 3 dollars." Which, not surprisingly, has become Game Day Light's new official slogan.

Originally introduced to the market in April of 2010, not much has been said of the beer. Of the reviews I could find, Game Day Light has been described as having a "pond water" quality. Reviewers also suggest drinking it ice cold, because of the 'rotten vegetable' taste that comes through as it warms. One reviewer claimed "there is nothing to appreciate about this beer." My go-to site for beer ratings, Beer Advocate, gives it an overall rating of D-.

All that being said, the 7-Eleven website boasted that the new beer won a Gold Medal in 2010 from the U.S. Open Beer Championship in the American Light Beer category. Which is pretty much the same thing as my mom bragging about how smart/funny/pretty I am to all her friends. What I mean is, parent-companies tend to be a little bias.

As for my own review, all I can say is that it was Definitely, Definitely, worth 3 dollars. 

Summer Vacation

I've been on a little summer break.
Still doing comedy, just in a less blogger way.

check out www.blacktopcomedy.com and find out.

Focal Jokes

For those of you who appreciate a little optical-themed humor in your life, here are a few one-liners*. Feel free to try any of these out on your bitter, listless co-workers for a laugh**.

What do you call glasses that are only worn in New Hampshire?  
Live free of Die-focals

What sort of glasses did George Washington wear?                    
I can not tell a lie-focals

What glasses were worn by the Four Seasons?                          
Big Girls Don't Cry-focals

What are the worst glasses to wear to your blind date?            
That chick used to be a guy-focals

Nostalgic Buddy Holly glasses?                                                
Bye, Bye, Miss American Pie-focals

Glasses you wear to let everyone know you hate phonies?        
Catcher In The Rye-focals

Glasses that help you meet people?                                          
Don't be so shy-focals


What do you call glasses that a penguin wears?                       
I wish I could fly-focals


And Finally...


Glasses that give you a terrible idea for a Tom Cruise Movie?
The Last Samurai-focals




      Get it?! We replaced the word 'Bi' with other rhyming words!! And, yes. We think we are very funny. If you're trying to decide on which one of us (my brother or myself) is more corny, I suggest you throw on a pair of It's a Tie-focals.
      Come up with a few of your own if you think you're so great.


*I can't take credit for most of these. They were my brothers idea.
** caution: you may be the only person laughing.

A brief word on New England

If one more person says "How 'Bout this weather?" I can not be held responsible for my reaction.

Stop hitting yourself.

Happy Fathers Day

Unless you haven't heard endlessly about this already, I come from a long line of classy Bostonian Irishman. My grandfather* is affectionately referred to as 'The Silver Fox', a nickname that I thought was unique to him until I was well into my teens, wherein I discovered everyone knows someone they refer to as 'the silver fox'. Until that point, I just assumed everyone knew my grandfather.

He is everything a stereotypical Irish grandfather should be. He's the perfect balance of quietly witty, and frighteningly stern. He watches college football, and listens to baseball on the radio. One of my fondest memories of him was when I was 15, and he told me while at a family party that I'd really filled out, then followed the comment immediately with, "Like, in your face.".

The Silver Fox is a beer drinker, but it seems like every time we go to visit him, we bring him a bottle of wine. Because that's what an 85-year-old man needs, a bottle of wine to go with his Sam Adams. Not being much of a wine drinker, he has developed his own way of determining how good a bottle of gift-wine is. A few minutes after we arrive, TSF takes the wine upstairs where I can only imagine he has a giant wine-related reference book, because there is no way he uses the internet (its a fad), and looks up the MSRP of that particular bottle of wine. How much he will enjoy his glass of wine is determined by the results of this research. Its an art. 

And so with that, let us raise our glasses of $1.33 beers to our fathers. May they remain in our lives so long that they achieve awkward cult-like followings.

*I would have written a post about my own father, but he knows how to use the internet, and therefore, may someday read this -- I love you, daddy!

Self Esteem

In your face. In ALL off your faces!!

That will be my mantra this week.

Future post topics: 'I got punched in the mouth today' and 'its not easy being mean'.

Thoughts on a walk...

I've been thinking of changing my name to Ralph. And then starting my own dog walking business. That way, my slogan can be "Dogs ask for me by name!"

Instead of a video post

I tried to video blog this morning, but the resolution was really low, and instead of trying to fix it, I just said, forget it.

So, instead, here is "Kim Speaks the News" in print: 

I was surprised when I found out about the Shriver-Schwarzenegger divorce. I thought the whole 'opposites attract' thing really worked for them. I think what disappoints me most is that just when I thought California had rid themselves of the Governator, suddenly he's everywhere.

And speaking of things I've heard enough of, Charlie Sheen has never been more popular OR talked about.  He'd like everyone to think he planned that. But we know he didn't, hes just crazy.

Theres more stuff I don't want to hear any more about, but I wont subject you to it.

In local news, there are parts of Sacramento that I don't ever want to visit at night. Although, it is nice to hear from a stranger how pretty I am, it sounds less sincere when they hit me up for money right after.  

Its Saturday

I definitely feel excluded from the TGIF excitement. I work on Saturdays, so when someone comes into the office on Friday, and congratulates me for making it through the week, I don't know what to say. Its like if a runner finished a race, and then jumped in a golf cart to taunt the people who are still running. Next time someone TGIfs, I'm going to pull their hair.

Home Town Pride

New England, you're my home, but sometimes I tell people I don't know you.


Home Town Pride from Kimberly Warren on Vimeo.

Swear. Ta. God.

One person should not have to do this much to prove she isn't a racist.


IsweartoGodI'mNotRacist from Kimberly Warren on Vimeo.

Day off

I love a day when I can sit back and watch television.

It leaves me with questions though. Like:

Why would three woman go out for lunch and order Dannon Light & Fit Yogurt?

I had briefly wondered why the television assumed that I needed life insurance, weight loss drugs, and dating websites just because I was watching a Martha marathon. But I figured that one out.

Uhh-oh..

Having a hangover from not drinking the night before may be a sign of alcoholism. But it also may be my body punishing me for missed opportunities. Its all a matter of how you look at the world.

Maybe I should just be a Toy'R'Us kid...

Here is a brief list of things that I celebrate, even though I should probably pretend I don't:

Paying Rent
Showing up on time to my job
Eating on clean plates
Ordering fancy coffees
Zipping my fly before I leave the house, and not after
Owning a Cat
Remembering to feed the cat
House plants
Clean underwear
Having multiple kinds of juice in the fridge

Driving is Dangerous

When an SUV cuts in front of you, and you yell out that you hope they burn in Hell, just in time to read their "Breast Cancer Surviver" bumper sticker... should you attempt to retract your statement? I mean, its not like I wished the breast cancer on her, at least, I don't think that was the same lady.

Thats Presbyopia!

Presbyopia is a natural part of the aging process, where your eyes loss the ability to focus, making it really hard
to see things up close. You might find yourself struggling to read menus, or holding the newspaper further away.

Ever find yourself baffled by how your friends are aging so much worse than you are? Well, they're not. You just can't see that you're just as wrinkled, and you're well on your way to having a full beard. And thats Presbyopia!

And heres another crazy tiger sweater I found:

Ebay, you're the one for me

So, I've re-rediscovered Ebay. Since finding it yesterday, I've already purchased some beautiful Waterford Crystal, and I'm currently watching auctions for a Tiffany sterling bowl, a few vintage wedding dresses, and a whaling harpoon. Mike said that he doesn't want a harpoon unless it actually killed actual whales. I think he might have to settle for a tuna killing harpoon. But on a slightly more practical note, I'm starting to get a little obsessed with searching for over-sized sweaters with glittery tigers on them.  Like this one:

I know I'm a little young to be giving up on trying to be taken seriously. But you know, why start now?

TWEET TWEET

I joined tweeter. And I know what you're thinking, and f you. I don't care how lame it is. I don't have anything important to say that can't be said in 140 characters or less.

Kimwarrior

Ask a stupid question.

"Why are there socks on the couch?" -me
"Because I took my socks off. See? No socks." - mike

I have to remember to avoid asking rhetorical questions to a PhD student.

Argh.

At what age do you stop getting shampoo in your eyes? because I want to be that age.

So this is growing up?

I have always hated change. It didn't matter how slight, I hated it. When my mom used to clean my room (yeah, my mom used to clean my room, so what? jealous much?) I couldn't watch; it sent me into a panic attack. Whenever anyone used to tell me they were thinking about moving from one apartment to another, or changing jobs, or dating someone new, I was against it. Fervently, and without reason. I recognized it as an immature part of my personality, and always I hoped that someday I would grow out of it. I assumed the nature pattern of growth would be that I would realize within my heart of hearts that that other person's actions had no baring on my life, and I have no right to act as if I have any say in what they do, or do not do. But that wasn't the case. Although, just recently, I've noticed I no longer boil at the thought of other people's change, it isn't because I respect that their decisions are their own. Its just that I no longer give a crap.

Is this what being an adult feels like?

The road to Hell

I spend a pretty decent amount of time at work being belittled by the general public, I really don't know why it still bothers me so much. I mean, I do the job of a seventeen year old high school student, but do people have to rub it in all the time? Isn't that in itself enough? Of course not.
Recently, a woman came in for an appointment, and she was blatantly ignoring everything I was saying to her. She hardly spoke to me while I was trying to do her pre-testing. I asked her to have a seat, and she just stood there, waiting for the doctor. But the doctor was going to be a few minutes, so I insisted she have a seat, and she wouldn't. People think that just because I work in retail, I'm a second class citizen. Or because they've got a PhD in some obscure subject they can treat me like crap or pretend I'm invisible. F them. After she was finished with her exam, I was asked to help her with her glasses, and, wouldn't you know it, she's a deaf lady.

So, I'm really making strides in purchasing my reserved seat in Hell.

I hate that girl.

With the amount of "little parts of me" that have died since I've graduated college, I'm surprised there is still anything left to kill.

Short Mess

I try to get as much accomplished on my days off as I can.
Today, I wanted to fix the new pair of jeans I bought. They're a 'regular' length, and I am not a regular lengthed person, but I figured it would be no big deal to hem them. Then I found out we were out of staples, so that ruined that plan. At first, I was frustrated that Mike used the staples toward his PhD endeavors when I had planned on using them on my pant legs, but then I remembered that I was probably the last person to use the stapler when the hem fell out of my work pants last week, so I wont mention it.
I would just wear heels, but that never looks normal on me. Long jeans with heels make me look like a midget on stilts. But that might not be such a bad thing. People love midgets.

Other day-off goals? Clean the freezer. Take down the Christmas lights. Do my laundry. Make dinner. Other totally normal adult things.

Coming out

Recently I have started telling more people I want to be a comedian, I'm noticing a trend in their reactions. Along with the obligational, "You'll be great at that!" which I would receive regardless of what I told them I wanted to do with my life (Teacher? You're a natural! Lawyer? You'd be excellent! Zoo keeper? The job market couldn't be better!), I was surprised by the amount of people who told me they'd always known I'd be a comedian.

Always known? Honestly? I only realized it like, a year ago. If they always knew, why couldn't they have told me? This must be what it feels like to realize you're gay; then immediately realize you're the last one to have figured it out.

Conflicted

I love reality television, but I hate high pitched screaming.

Sicko

So, it amazes me that in a matter of a few days, I could go from perfectly healthy, so healthy that I would rub my healthiness in the faces of sick people, to half dead with some sort of monster cold. And no, I haven't ever heard of karma.

Being a sick person has a few benefits though. Its the only time where you can be visibly inebriation at work, and your co-workers will pity you. You can wander around a grocery store in your pajamas and its almost justified. But aside from those two things, there are no benefits.

I can say without a doubt Nyquil is the best cold medicine out there. Other than tasting like a mix of gum drops and Jager, its perfect. I've been a walking meth lab for two days now, and nothing works as well as Nyquil. Its the night-time, sniffling, sneezing, kill-anything-that-moves cold medicine. Its what you take when you want to just sleep until its over.

Valentine's Day

Oh, Valentine's Day. The day when we gorge ourselves on cheap chocolate, or occasionally, really expensive chocolate that was brought into the office for someone else but you take a little anyway and hope they wont find out it was you. A day where we're obligated to tell our significant others that we love them, while also making them feel guilty for not being as romantic as that other couple you know.

Its also my half-birthday, which means that, although Valentine's Day isn't my favorite holiday, February 14th is still one of the most important days of the year. So, while you may be sick from waxy milk chocolate and sappy cards, and bitter from lack-luster semi-romantic gestures, at least I'm here to brighten your day.

<3   .... its a heart.

And you said there wasn't anything on TV..

It has come to my attention that The Nanny is back on television. What the hell were you thinking, 1995? The only thing that could have made that show more grating is if Gilbert Godfrey played opposite Fran Drescher.  Even on mute, the show is offensive.

Thanks TVLand, for dragging that dead horse out to beat.

Would you like Paper, or Shame?

I went to pick up a few things for dinner today, and at check-out the cashier asked for my ID, and then asked me if I was a student. Now, I'm standing there, a 20-something, in a shirt that is covered in cat hair, buying cheap beer at noon on a Thursday, with an out-of-state ID, so I don't exactly blame the woman for thinking I was a student. But I still felt like saying: No, I'm not a student, I'm just an adult who doesn't have her shit together. But I told her I was, because college students get a 5% discount. I might not have my shit together, but I know a deal when I see it.

What you see isn't always what you get

So, note to self: 5 pm isn't a perfect time to try to make a video; bandwidth is low.


What you see isn't always what you get from Kimberly Warren on Vimeo.

I made some resolutions

So, as I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm not feeling very funny this week. But it never hurts to try.

48 takes later:


The Importance of Lists from Kimberly Warren on Vimeo.

Funk

So, absolutely nothing funny has happened all week. I could really use a break.

Welcome back to the Video World

Here I am, after three months of not video blogging, here are three new entries...

One:

I'm back! from Kimberly Warren on Vimeo.

Two:

Moral Bankruptcy from Kimberly Warren on Vimeo.

Three:

Gushers from Kimberly Warren on Vimeo.

How to create an awkward little girl

Today I met an eleven-year-old girl who was getting her first pair of glasses. Her mother told me that next week the girl is going to have braces put on. This means that, by next year, she'll be in the seventh grade with glasses and braces. And everyone knows that the seventh grade is single cruelest thing ever created (this list goes something like, The seventh grade, Hitler, the DMV, and so on*), and I really wanted to say something to make her feel better, because the mother had gone to the trouble to tell me she was getting braces, but all I could come up with was, "I had glasses and braces at your age. If nothing else, it'll give you a lot of material for your future comedy routine."


Its my ability to give stellar life lessons that makes me a good optometric technician. Maybe.


*I know what you're probably thinking. Hilter is eviler than the seventh grade. Well, you can just go right on believing that if you want, but all I'm saying is, Hitler had to endure the seventh grade. And if his seventh grade experience was anything like my seventh grade experience, it explains a lot of his lifestyle choices.

CaliMonter

In continuation of my Gross Food Photography string, I present you with our dinner for a few nights ago:

We still haven't stocked our house with all the normal foods, so we had to get creative with dinner. Mike came up with this wonderful East-coast-meets-West-coast sandwich which, thankfully, tasted a whole lot better than it looked.

The sandwich, which we named the Calimonter, is a hot turkey sandwich on buttered sourdough rye bread, with Vermont cheddar sage cheese, avocado, onions, and jalapeño stuffed olives. It deserves a spot in the gross food photography hall of fame.

Take a letter, Maria.

The lady at the post office is out to get me. I got caught trying to illegally ship alcohol across the country one time, and suddenly I'm a menace to society. Even if I did pitch a pretty epic fit, that was weeks ago. She should be over it by now. Every time I go in there now, she's giving me stink eye like I'm some kind of criminal. I cut my hair, and she still recognizes me.  There are 20 thousand nondescript blonde-ish women in Davis, and she STILL recognizes me. I'm going to have to start paying my co-workers to go to the post office for me.

Ugly Duckling

I've always loved my grandfather-esque clothing. I know I've said this before, but they make me feel like Tina Fey. Or like Peggy from Madmen, if I was really convinced there was someone cute under there. I've always felt like my frumpy wardrobe gave me an understated cuteness, as if to suggest that if I just put in a little effort I could be really, really cute. Like the female fashion equivalent to the Clark Kent/Superman thing. All I'd have to do is take off the glasses, and the over-sized sweater, and the big jeans that give me no butt, and shower every once in a while, and I'd be cute. But the thing that I should have learned for the Clark Kent/Superman this is that people are really easily fooled by even the most basic disguise.  I dress frumpy, therefore I am frumpy.


Quack Quack.