I'm always excited to dance on little black boxes and bar tops, but sometimes there's something about an up-coming gig that creates a happy and anxious feeling. When I get that feeling, I can't wait to put my shoes on.
This Saturday, I'll be putting on combat boots. I'll be wearing all black, with an accent of silver chains, studs and safety pins. My hair will have a messy, not washed in four days, look ... and I will wear deep purple lipstick, trace my eyes with thick black liner and paint my nails black. Lucky for me, my hair is already a soft-black shade.
See, I work for a woman who books gigs for me, and she always has a theme for the night. I take themes very seriously, which is probably why I love working for this lady. For a night, from 11 p.m. to 2 a.m., I'll be Lisbeth Salander. I'm going to go go-ize the character, but I'll be Lisbeth.
If you've been living under a rock and aren't familiar with Lisbeth Salander, let me fill you in. She's the main character in the phenomenal trilogy of Stieg Larsson. I don't think anyone's books have been more popular on the subway trains than Larsson's. You can't tell me you haven't spotted at least seven people on the same train reading "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." I'm shocked people didn't start discussion groups during the morning commute. Anyways, after the first genius book came two more, all of which are equally amazing. And if you haven't picked up on it yet, this is my Saturday night theme.
Minus the dragon tattoo, I get to be a badass. A badass go go dancer, but still ... a badass. For a night I get to rebel against glittery and sequined bras and turn to leather and chains, with visions of motorcycles in my head.
Not only do I get to be Kitty Rae when I'm dancing on black boxes and bar tops ... this Saturday I get to be Kitty Rae - undercover hacker chick that you don't want to mess with. Totally stoked.
People sitting at the bar better watch out for my chains. And, if you're an asshole, watch out for my combat boots.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
It's Not The 1950's ... But What's The Problem?
When did love become so difficult? When did men stop opening doors for women? When did good rock n' roll love songs turn into lyrics about forgetting your boyfriend and fucking in some hotel room?
It's as if people don't even know how to approach someone anymore. Our main form of communication involves our computers and cell phones, not face-to-face interaction. Even sex has gone to web cams and sexting. At least, for now, people are still having actual sex. And that's because it's easy. It's easy to sleep with someone and mumble, "I'll text you," as you leave the next morning ... but apparently it's hard to actually get to know someone and have a relationship.
The other weekend I was home in Wisconsin, sitting in a bar, surrounded by my favorite girls. We started talking about our dating lives, which lead to a discussion on online dating. A couple of the girls had tried it and were talking about their experiences.
While they talked about the online weirdos and hellish dates they had been on, I realized how much work and effort it all was. Why? Why are people trying so hard to find love? Back in the 1950's, computers and the internet did not exist, yet people went to sock hops and shared a milkshake at the local malt shop. Apparently milkshakes were better back then, because I'm sure a lot of those dates turned into marriages ... marriages that had more than a 50 percent chance of survival. So, what happened?
The traditional values that once stood 40 years ago have gone to the shitter, we're stressed about all the wrong things and we're too damn busy. That's what happened.
I get it ... we are never going to have 1950's values again. Women go to college and work overtime, just like men. They want to excel in their careers and become "independent." When you obtain that "independence," it becomes a lifestyle and is hard to give up. Trust me. And, I don't see that ending anytime soon for women. Things have changed and women have more choices and opportunities. I don't know any man who would say to a bunch of women, "You all belong in the kitchen," (unless he has a death wish).
Secondly, maybe we'd have more successful relationships if we took more time making someone else happy instead of stressing about money, your next game of golf or if you remembered to make your weekly manicure appointment. We stress so much because of selfishness. We all want what's best for ourselves, and ourselves only. The world is full of too many selfish douchebags and bitches who are unfamiliar with the word compromise. Get out your Merriam-Webster. Look it up. Learn it. Practice it.
Then there's the king of all exuses ... "I'm too busy." Get over it, we're all busy. We all work long hours, then come home and work some more. Make time. Try to see someone once a week. Who knows, maybe you'll enjoy it and want to see them on a Wednesday too. Now, if you're a woman in New York City, you know this all too well. Every third guy you pass is in a band and "has no time." If you find one that will make the time and not sleep with girls in bar bathrooms ... keep him. Inspire him, he'll probably even write a song about you.
After writing all these insightful words, I've realized I was wrong. It's not love. Love is not difficult. In fact, it's quite easy. Loving someone is like breathing ... easy and essential. Relationships are difficult - like most things in life that really matter. Relationships can be tricky and messy, but at the same time, all kinds of wonderful.
Here's a a re-cap, since I know we're so busy and all:
It's as if people don't even know how to approach someone anymore. Our main form of communication involves our computers and cell phones, not face-to-face interaction. Even sex has gone to web cams and sexting. At least, for now, people are still having actual sex. And that's because it's easy. It's easy to sleep with someone and mumble, "I'll text you," as you leave the next morning ... but apparently it's hard to actually get to know someone and have a relationship.
The other weekend I was home in Wisconsin, sitting in a bar, surrounded by my favorite girls. We started talking about our dating lives, which lead to a discussion on online dating. A couple of the girls had tried it and were talking about their experiences.
While they talked about the online weirdos and hellish dates they had been on, I realized how much work and effort it all was. Why? Why are people trying so hard to find love? Back in the 1950's, computers and the internet did not exist, yet people went to sock hops and shared a milkshake at the local malt shop. Apparently milkshakes were better back then, because I'm sure a lot of those dates turned into marriages ... marriages that had more than a 50 percent chance of survival. So, what happened?
The traditional values that once stood 40 years ago have gone to the shitter, we're stressed about all the wrong things and we're too damn busy. That's what happened.
I get it ... we are never going to have 1950's values again. Women go to college and work overtime, just like men. They want to excel in their careers and become "independent." When you obtain that "independence," it becomes a lifestyle and is hard to give up. Trust me. And, I don't see that ending anytime soon for women. Things have changed and women have more choices and opportunities. I don't know any man who would say to a bunch of women, "You all belong in the kitchen," (unless he has a death wish).
Secondly, maybe we'd have more successful relationships if we took more time making someone else happy instead of stressing about money, your next game of golf or if you remembered to make your weekly manicure appointment. We stress so much because of selfishness. We all want what's best for ourselves, and ourselves only. The world is full of too many selfish douchebags and bitches who are unfamiliar with the word compromise. Get out your Merriam-Webster. Look it up. Learn it. Practice it.
Then there's that whole fear of rejection bullshit. Please stop fearing rejection. You want someone, go up to them. So many people are afraid of bruising their ego, so they don't go up to the pretty girl in amazing heels, or the good-looking guy in tight jeans. If nothing else, your ego should be enhanced by your ability to go up to a hot stranger. Noah never would have ended up with Allie if he feared rejection (yes, I'm talking about The Notebook). People today are too afraid to push the limits of risk. What you never do, you'll never know.
Ahhh, rejection could be another reason online dating has become so popular. Many people feel more comfortable behind a computer screen than sitting across from a stranger. It's also less hurtful when someone stops messaging you after a week than when someone doesn't call after a first date.
Then there's the king of all exuses ... "I'm too busy." Get over it, we're all busy. We all work long hours, then come home and work some more. Make time. Try to see someone once a week. Who knows, maybe you'll enjoy it and want to see them on a Wednesday too. Now, if you're a woman in New York City, you know this all too well. Every third guy you pass is in a band and "has no time." If you find one that will make the time and not sleep with girls in bar bathrooms ... keep him. Inspire him, he'll probably even write a song about you.
After writing all these insightful words, I've realized I was wrong. It's not love. Love is not difficult. In fact, it's quite easy. Loving someone is like breathing ... easy and essential. Relationships are difficult - like most things in life that really matter. Relationships can be tricky and messy, but at the same time, all kinds of wonderful.
Here's a a re-cap, since I know we're so busy and all:
- The 1950's are gone.
- We stress about all the wrong things.
- We're too busy.
- We're too selfish.
Don't be afraid to share a milkshake with someone. Get to know them. The sex will be even better.
The Notebook Clip - Noah asks Allie Out
The Notebook Clip - Noah asks Allie Out
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Cure the Blah
I still believe that when you're having a 'blah, everything is going wrong' day, the best thing you can do is put on some lipstick.
Due to this blah day I'm having, I caved and had some coffee. My over-assumption of coffee led me to the bathroom at least four times this morning. Every time I'd look in the mirror and feel even more blah. Finally I realized I needed some lipstick. I have 27 different colors in my leopard-print make up bag, so I knew I'd find something to perk me up. And, it worked. One of my favorite MAC shades, Loyal, made me instantly feel better. It's as if my internet rock n' roll radio station even started to sound better. And, the best part is, I'm working from home today, so I'm sitting in my room with my lipstick on ... for no one but my cat to see.
You can either sit around, complain and do nothing about your 'blah' day, or you can go for a walk, listen to that "happy song" (mine is Daybreak by Barry Manilow - the first song I ever tap danced to) or walk around your apartment in high heels. Yes, the lipstick made me feel better, but I wanted something more, so I also walked around my apartment in my favorite pair of high heels ... which I still haven't taken off.
Whatever that little thing is for you, do it. If you don't have a cure, I recommend you start at the MAC store. It works wonders for me.
The one and only Barry Manilow - Daybreak
Due to this blah day I'm having, I caved and had some coffee. My over-assumption of coffee led me to the bathroom at least four times this morning. Every time I'd look in the mirror and feel even more blah. Finally I realized I needed some lipstick. I have 27 different colors in my leopard-print make up bag, so I knew I'd find something to perk me up. And, it worked. One of my favorite MAC shades, Loyal, made me instantly feel better. It's as if my internet rock n' roll radio station even started to sound better. And, the best part is, I'm working from home today, so I'm sitting in my room with my lipstick on ... for no one but my cat to see.
You can either sit around, complain and do nothing about your 'blah' day, or you can go for a walk, listen to that "happy song" (mine is Daybreak by Barry Manilow - the first song I ever tap danced to) or walk around your apartment in high heels. Yes, the lipstick made me feel better, but I wanted something more, so I also walked around my apartment in my favorite pair of high heels ... which I still haven't taken off.
Whatever that little thing is for you, do it. If you don't have a cure, I recommend you start at the MAC store. It works wonders for me.
The one and only Barry Manilow - Daybreak
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Why Run?
"They (whoever 'they' are) say we only run from the things that really scare us." I get it, I'm guilty. So are you. We all are.
Whether it's love, success, money, etc. What it is isn't important. But, one day you are going to get tired.
I don't care if you run marathons ... if you can run one everyday ... three times. One day you will get tired. And when your knee is messed up beyond repair, you'll wonder why you kept running. Then you'll realize you kept running because it was comfortable. You may not have been happy or satisfied, but the alternative was scary as hell, so you kept running away.
Stop running. If you're scared, good ... that means you're doing something right. Keep doing it.
Anyone can keep running, but in the end, they'll just be left with a busted knee.
Whether it's love, success, money, etc. What it is isn't important. But, one day you are going to get tired.
I don't care if you run marathons ... if you can run one everyday ... three times. One day you will get tired. And when your knee is messed up beyond repair, you'll wonder why you kept running. Then you'll realize you kept running because it was comfortable. You may not have been happy or satisfied, but the alternative was scary as hell, so you kept running away.
Stop running. If you're scared, good ... that means you're doing something right. Keep doing it.
Anyone can keep running, but in the end, they'll just be left with a busted knee.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
A Gossip Girl Gone Ginger
We all know Blake Lively is a fan of the red-bottomed Christian Louboutins, but was she taking it too far when she recently became a red-head. Check out her new hairdo here.
Our sun-kissed, Gossip Girl, blonde bombshell has gone ginger. When the public has only known someone with a consistent hair color over the years, it's a shock when it changes overnight. It's as if we have a serious problem with celebrity change. Our society hates when celeb couples split, when they wear an ugly dress to the Oscars, and apparently, when they color their hair.
This is because we are comfortable with people in the public eye the way they are. It disrupts our world when Perez Hilton tells us that Eva Longoria is getting a divorce or that Lauren Conrad chopped her beach-waved hair (which happened a while ago people, she wore extensions). And the funny thing is, we normal folks embrace change in our own lives ... but the truth is a marriage only has a 50 percent chance of making it whether your Joe Schmo or Brad Pitt (see the dude's already been divorced once).
Could our frame of mind be because so-called "stars" are supposed to be better than us. As if they are already so perfect, why change anything? Well, they aren't. Their bank accounts may be higher and they may have five houses, but sometimes they want to change the color of their hair too. So give Blake a break. Even though she probably went to a fancy salon for her dye job instead of picking up Loreal Preference 8C at the local pharmacy.
As for Miss Lively, I'm not a fan of the ginger look on her. But, who am I to say. I wonder how long she'll have it if Karl Lagerfeld wants her blonde in the next Chanel handbag advertisement. And, I wonder what Penn Badgley thinks? I hear they are getting cozy again. If so, I hope they don't break up ... society will blame the fiery red-head.
The point is that 'famous' people are just like us. They sleep and have smelly shit. So, when they want to change their hair or wear something crazy ... it's ok. The whole world may not love it, but I'm pretty sure the entire human species isn't all about your hair, but you can still rock it.
Our sun-kissed, Gossip Girl, blonde bombshell has gone ginger. When the public has only known someone with a consistent hair color over the years, it's a shock when it changes overnight. It's as if we have a serious problem with celebrity change. Our society hates when celeb couples split, when they wear an ugly dress to the Oscars, and apparently, when they color their hair.
This is because we are comfortable with people in the public eye the way they are. It disrupts our world when Perez Hilton tells us that Eva Longoria is getting a divorce or that Lauren Conrad chopped her beach-waved hair (which happened a while ago people, she wore extensions). And the funny thing is, we normal folks embrace change in our own lives ... but the truth is a marriage only has a 50 percent chance of making it whether your Joe Schmo or Brad Pitt (see the dude's already been divorced once).
Could our frame of mind be because so-called "stars" are supposed to be better than us. As if they are already so perfect, why change anything? Well, they aren't. Their bank accounts may be higher and they may have five houses, but sometimes they want to change the color of their hair too. So give Blake a break. Even though she probably went to a fancy salon for her dye job instead of picking up Loreal Preference 8C at the local pharmacy.
As for Miss Lively, I'm not a fan of the ginger look on her. But, who am I to say. I wonder how long she'll have it if Karl Lagerfeld wants her blonde in the next Chanel handbag advertisement. And, I wonder what Penn Badgley thinks? I hear they are getting cozy again. If so, I hope they don't break up ... society will blame the fiery red-head.
The point is that 'famous' people are just like us. They sleep and have smelly shit. So, when they want to change their hair or wear something crazy ... it's ok. The whole world may not love it, but I'm pretty sure the entire human species isn't all about your hair, but you can still rock it.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Goodbye Car ... Hello Computer
Ever since I was 16 years old, I've had a car. My mom and dad taught me how to drive in a 1983 Chevy Celebrity. I passed my driver's test with that car, but every time you shut the the door, you'd lose a few more pieces. And the winters are cold in Wisconsin.
Within a year, the Celebrity had fallen apart, and I bought my first car with the money I saved from my retail job. It was a baby-blue Plymouth Colt. I called it my baby. I gave it a little tap on the dash every time I made it through the intersection on a yellow light. Unfortunately, the baby's mileage grew too high, and it was time to say goodbye.
Before I went off to college, my mom helped me find a new car. Well, it was a new, used car, but it was her "you're finally getting out of my house" gift to me, and I was extremely grateful (seriously, not everyone has a mom that cool). So, I drove off to college in my little dark purple Saturn. It had a CD player, and I remember the first CD I jammed to was Jennifer Lopez ... The Remix. I thought I was cool.
That eggplant-colored (if you want to get specific) Saturn got me through college, picking up drunk friends from the bars, taking road trips with my high school girls, running around on reporting assignments, and moving to and from five apartments. I was so proud of Ms. Eggplant.
Then I decided to move to New York City. With a great public transportation system, insane traffic and high insurance rates, I decided to leave my car behind. My mom kept it around for a while ... thinking I'd hate it out here and come back home. After six months, and me constantly telling her I'm never leaving NYC, she got the hint and told me she was going to sell the car for me. And, because she's so cool, she told me whatever she got for the car would be mine.
Finally, after a few months, my mom's neighbor must have gotten sick of seeing the car in the driveway, so he bought it for his 16-year-old daughter. A recently-turned 16-year-old got a car, and a recently-turned New Yorker finally got a new computer. It's been an hour and I'm already a Mac person. I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with this thing. Probably as much fun as that teenager is going to have in her new car.
And now that I can do so much more, be prepared for this blog to change ... and take off! There's more to Kitty Rae than dancing on black boxes. Get ready.
Within a year, the Celebrity had fallen apart, and I bought my first car with the money I saved from my retail job. It was a baby-blue Plymouth Colt. I called it my baby. I gave it a little tap on the dash every time I made it through the intersection on a yellow light. Unfortunately, the baby's mileage grew too high, and it was time to say goodbye.
Before I went off to college, my mom helped me find a new car. Well, it was a new, used car, but it was her "you're finally getting out of my house" gift to me, and I was extremely grateful (seriously, not everyone has a mom that cool). So, I drove off to college in my little dark purple Saturn. It had a CD player, and I remember the first CD I jammed to was Jennifer Lopez ... The Remix. I thought I was cool.
That eggplant-colored (if you want to get specific) Saturn got me through college, picking up drunk friends from the bars, taking road trips with my high school girls, running around on reporting assignments, and moving to and from five apartments. I was so proud of Ms. Eggplant.
Then I decided to move to New York City. With a great public transportation system, insane traffic and high insurance rates, I decided to leave my car behind. My mom kept it around for a while ... thinking I'd hate it out here and come back home. After six months, and me constantly telling her I'm never leaving NYC, she got the hint and told me she was going to sell the car for me. And, because she's so cool, she told me whatever she got for the car would be mine.
Finally, after a few months, my mom's neighbor must have gotten sick of seeing the car in the driveway, so he bought it for his 16-year-old daughter. A recently-turned 16-year-old got a car, and a recently-turned New Yorker finally got a new computer. It's been an hour and I'm already a Mac person. I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with this thing. Probably as much fun as that teenager is going to have in her new car.
And now that I can do so much more, be prepared for this blog to change ... and take off! There's more to Kitty Rae than dancing on black boxes. Get ready.
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