"This is totally going on my blog."

And here it is:



Here are the comments that followed:

Me: You're a loony.
K: The Black Knight always triumphs!
Me: Have at you!
K: Chicken, chicken!
Me: What're you going to do, bleed on me?
K: NONE SHALL PASS.
Me: Look you stupid bastard, you've got no arms left.
K: Yes I have!
Me: Look, I'll have your leg!
K: I'm invincible!
Me: You're a loony. (Still.)
Me: *WHOP there goes the other leg*
K: I'll bite your legs off.
Me: Come, Patsy.
K: I have no quarrel with you, good Sir Knight... Then you shall die.
Me: Oh, running away, eh? You yellow bastard!
K: Come back here and take what's coming to you! I'll bite your legs off! (Again.) We really should have considered quoting this in order...
Me: That thought crossed my mind as well. Oh well. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that jazz.
Me: This is still a pretty fantastic list of comments.

These comments were all posted in a span of about ten minutes. My inner Monty Python nerd was squeeing like a little girl.

And check out Sexy Batman. Kate Beaton is a nerdy cartoon comedy genius.

I have delusions of grandeur.

At the book store, we recently received an "oops" shipment of bargain books. These books were labeled as "hurts;" for those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, it refers to stock that has been damaged in some way or has some slight flaw. Since these books were an additional 75% off and it was incredibly slow because the rest of the state was watching a Packer game, I decided to take a wander through the shelves.

I ended up purchasing several books, three of which were food books of some sort. The first was the Top Chef Quickfire Challenge Cookbook:

With this purchase I envisioned myself running around a shiny kitchen while tending to three simmering pots while roasting vegetables in the oven and toasting cumin seeds in a pan. Like Richard Blais, Rick Moonen, or Marcel Vigneron. Though in my fantasy my hair did NOT vaguely resemble a chocolate chip.

The next book I picked up was the Irish Pub cookbook.

This time, I envisioned myself knitting or doing some other incredibly domestic craft while a large pot of stew wafts aromas throughout the house and bread rises on the counter.


The last book I picked up was the Stonewall Kitchen Appetizers cookbook.

Picture, if you will, me as the hostess of a party; I dash effortlessly between the kitchen and main room, keeping plates filled and mingling with guests while looking elegant in a cocktail dress and heels.

Or did this already happen?

The answer to that question is "no," by the way.

Taking a bite out of the Little Apple.

At the end of this weekend, I will have driven (drum roll please)... one thousand, three hundred ninety-nine miles (or roughly twenty-five hours). That's a LOT of miles on my car in four days.

And for those of you English language sticklers, yes, I should have written the mileage number as numerals; it's just way more impressive when written out.

Why did I drive such an insane amount? For a vet school interview, of course! Earlier today I interviewed at Kansas State University in Manhattan (Kansas). I went into this interview/other activities hoopla completely prepared to be unimpressed. I was convinced otherwise. Though I had looked over the curriculum, mission statement, ethical code, blah blah blah on the KSU website, I was really impressed in person as well. Which, sadly, was not the case at ISU. While I love my alma mater and will always consider myself a Cyclone, I would pick the vet school at KSU over the one at ISU at this point.

I was talking to another person who had interviewed at Iowa State after both of us had finished up our respective KSU interviews. I asked her what she thought of the ISU interview. She shared her thoughts. I shared mine. I'll spare you the sordid details of our conversation, but we both agreed that this, based on the questions that we were asked, should be included in the series of questions asked to next years batch of vet school hopefuls: "Describe a time when you completely failed at life." But really, that question would be redundant. Between the two of us, we were asked to describe a time when we failed, had to break a promise, were creative and failed, and felt that we were in a situation that we couldn't deal with. 

Biggest difference between the ISU and KSU interview: I didn't feel like shit on the bottom of a shoe after I left the interview room. I actually felt good about myself, and that perhaps I actually had a shot of getting a spot next year.

To continue with the tradition of leaving you with something totally unrelated at the bottom of the post, here are a few samplers made by Steotch on Etsy. 

I first ran across this one on a post on regretsy, and am insanely jealous of it:

Then there's this one. Notice the mushroom in the cornucopia:

Nothing says "no sexual harassment, please" like needlepoint:

And my personal favorite:

For those of you who don't get the last one, watch this video on YouTube. All will be made clear. Possibly clear enough for a triple rainbow.

Note: I'm aware that the type is stupidly large for this post. For reasons unknown the default type is turning out to be stupidly small, so I chose the lesser of two evils.

A Guy's Guide To Dating Katy

...not that I'm dating anyone. Or have had a date in quite some time. *sigh*

Pardon me while I go get my tub of cookie dough.

Okay, but honestly, first dates are always painfully awkward and for the most part pretty awful; so why am I sighing over it? I have this theory that dating is like childbirth. As soon as it's over, you forget the pain, which is necessary if people were to ever reproduce... or... date.

Maybe that comparison isn't the best, but I think you get my point. Anyway. Ahem.

Rules for Dating

1. If I am dancing to an 80's song, don't try to dance on me.

I like to be free and uninhibited while dancing to "Living on a Prayer," thank you.

2. Don't open car doors for me all of the time.

If I'm in a nice dress, fine. Otherwise I am perfectly capable of opening up my own door. I have arms. With hands. Which you have probably noticed if we're going out.

3. Don't call me "baby."

I am an adult, not a child or an infant. If thinking of the latter rocks your boat, eww.

4. Do be a nerd.

Being a nerd means that you are unashamed to be uninhibitedly enthusiastic about things. Which also probably means that you have more fun than "cool" people. I know that I certainly do.

5. You will watch Disney movies.

Again, not really a rule. But you will watch Disney movies. And you will like it.

6. Feel free to make fun of me.

I do it to myself all the time. Obviously.

7. If you're buying a drink for me, make it delicious beer.

And Bud, Miller, and Coors are crap. Craft beer is where it's at, yo.

There you have it, loyal readers and randos who stumble upon the internet schizophrenia that is my blog. Yet another ridiculous post that has nothing to do with vet school.

Anyone else notice that I'm no longer labeling my posts? Yet another victim of laziness. That and they had nothing to do with content and there was no consistency.