Sunday, May 24, 2009

SCHWARTZ HAS MOVED


Beautiful babies, I have officially moved. I will not be deleting this blog, ever. I am in a new spot where I will be ranting and raving. You know how I do. Come visit me at KatieSchwartz.com. Come on, don't be shy. You can do this. We'll do it as a family. Ready. Set. Click.

CHANGE

BREATHE.
STAY WITH ME.
EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OOOOKAAAAY.
IF YOU CLICK THIS LINK, I PROMISE IT WON'T BITE.
LOVING...

Friday, May 01, 2009

DEAR THYROID IS IN THE SISTERHOOD


@Anastasia_Smith of The Sister Project, follow them on Twitter @sisters, wrote a gorgeous post about her thyroid, sisterhood and Dear Thyroid. Please read, From The Threads of Thyroid Tales.

Thank you!
Isn't she a honey? Click on over and read.


*cross posted at DearThyroid.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

OLD JEWS TELLING JOKES

This morning I woke up to Old Jews Telling Jokes in my box, courtesy of my girl, FranIAm. OJTJ is so funny, I think I want to marry the website.


Sunday, April 19, 2009

KATIE RANTS


Good morning!

If you've been following my tweets, @katieschwartz, you know that my pal VeronicaWords, is working like a dawg to, well, save dawgs.

From VW: "Here’s the scoop from @VeronicaWords: vote 4 us! http://is.gd/3EQR Fill in Pike County Humane Society Milford PA & Search. then select us. Animal verification, that’s it!".

It's a great shelter and you can vote every day, so please do. They're in desperate need of the fundage. Off you go to vote for canine hope.

My dad joined Twitter, @jsbrooklyn. I'm plotzing. @TanyaEspanya, doll that she is, friended my pops. As far as dark humor is concerned, you'll quickly learn the apple does not in fact fall far from the tree, not at all. Friend him, ga'head. I think he knows how to follow back, if not my brother, @nicktony will show him, I'm sure.

I'm obsessing about the song, Caribbean Queen, for reasons I can't explain, and the mispronunciation of the word, "Caribbean". It is not pronounced "Caara-beee-aun", which is, in my opinion, enunciation murder. Worsening the issue, lest we forget it was a huge hit. How? Why? What happened? Where was I during this songbacle?

Have you seen infomercials for the Bullet Express? In the middle of the night, when I can't sleep, I am a food product infomercial whore. Anyway, the infomercial has the creepiest crew, force feeding insert-grandma-here, a food bulletized beverage. What's worse, is her insert-son-here, staring at her wantonly while she's drinking. Watch!





Another one is the Cricut Expression, a scrapbookey spin-off tchoch that's fun for the whole family. Admittedly, this one bugs the shit out of me.

What happened to Ron Poppeil, you know, the infomercial daddy who coined the phrase "But, wait, there's more"?

Here's one I love -- Really, it's the dame I love, never the products, always the sales peeps and their handy-dandy-ever-so-shocked-side-kicks, the Turbo Cooker.


Saturday, April 18, 2009

THE SILVER ENVELOPE PROJECT


In response to the Red Envelope Project, I have launched the Silver Envelope Project. I posted about my disdain and contempt for the REP, you might have read it here, Abortion, The Breakfast of Champions.

My objective for the Silver Envelope Project is for legions of women who are pro-choice, to join me in posting written letters, video letters and photo/collage letters to the Silver Envelope Project blog, to virally syndicate our message as aggressively as they are.

I hope you'll review and send me lots of letters and get involved!

Thursday, April 16, 2009

ONE FOR THE SHAME BUFFET, PLEASE


As we've discussed a blog is one part confessional, right? Right.

Today, I was reminded of the ultimate shamevent, I was with my ma and we were at the Farmer's Market buying produce, minding our own business when I happened upon my ex.

He didn't see me -- I saw him -- which was MORE than enough to make me run -- like a virgin towards the starting quarterback. I flew through the market. My ma, is, of course, fast on her feet and didn't need me to explain anything, she just followed. PS: That's love.

So terrified he would see me, I made my way into the back of the market and dove into a dumpster. Yes, I know that's disgusting. Whatevs, a girl does what a girl has to do.

A few minutes later, I could hear my mother laughing her ass off while leaning against the dumpster, so I peeked my head out of the top. Through tears, she said to me, "What the fuck is wrong with you, child?" I whispered, "I saw my ex, he was buying avocados. Remember he used to call them avo's? I hated that."

She looks to her left, sees him, whispers, "Duck", and slams the cover of the dumpster shut. She hid behind the dumpster.

Do you believe the shame?

Ten minutes later, she came out from behind the dumpster and made sure all was clear before helping me out of the can.

Oy vey, the lengths I will go to, to avoid this ex... don't ask.

HEY, CHUBBARELLA


Nice ad, huh? Circa 19-we-call-fat-laaaydies-chubbies. Of course we've "evolved" past this. Presently, we just quickly look away from said chubbette for fear of catching fat, which makes perfect sense, it was in the NY Times.

If you've been following my tweets, you know that I am completely OCD about my kitchen window neighbor's shower habits. They shower 4-5 times a day. I keep wondering; if there are only two of them, what could they possibly be doing that requires such excessive showering. Are they rolling in mud? Peeing on themselves? Working out 24/7? Smoking meat? Then I wonder, wait, maybe people have increased their daily showering, maybe that's the norm, maybe it's the thing to do, and I'm just a skanky dirty whore for showering once a day.

I'm in a weird mood.
I have insomnia.

Oh, before I forget, thank you sooo much for the birthday wishes. My birthday was February 7th. Like the latetard that I am, I didn't get around to posting my GIFTIES until, oh the shame of it, April 5th. Do you believe?! I know, I'm such a cuntarell. Oy, forgive me gift givers.

On the 16th, which I believe is now, a certain someone from a certain Compound is coming to Los Angeles with his fangorialicious daughter, I can't wait to see them. We met at the Pilcrow Lit Fest last year in Chicago.

I'm trying to get my sister to consider doing an authentic expression for Three Dames With A Clue .

Does anyone know of any jewelry makers in the Los Angeles, Hollywood area looking for a venue to sell their jewels? I can't find anyone.

STUPIDITY ROCKS

What kind of a schmuck do you have to be to dive into a polar bear enclosure at a zoo? How completely fucktardian are you?! I'm just grateful the PB's weren't injured.






Polar bear mauls woman at zoo, wouldn't you if some asshole came into your house?

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

SPEAKING OF ABORTIONS



Menses just commenced. It's 1:14 AM. I was asleep. That felt good. At 12:24, I popped up. I think I'm awake, maybe awakeish is more accurate.

I'm always surprised when those handy-soapy-foamy-bottles run out of soap. For some lame ass reason, it never occurs to me that they ever will. They feel so lifetime supply, even though the bottles aren't more than 8 inches tall. Similarly, when I flip on a light switch and the light flickers to its death, I think "Now what?" Duh, schmuckette, you change the fucking light bulb. Intellectually, I know this, yet for some odd reason, it never comes to mind.

In fact, a few years ago, my mother walked into my house and said, "Why aren't the lights working?" I said "I don't know, I flick the switch and they don't work." After a fit of uproarious laughter, she said, "Would it kill you to change the light bulb?” Hmmm. "No", I shamefully responded. I wonder why... it is that I have a block against certain tasks. I can be absentminded, but not about the big stuff, I don't think.

It's 4:30 AM. I started writing this post 3 hours ago. I ran to the store. One of the stock daddies had beautiful tattoos covering the length of his arms. I asked him, "Do your tattoos tell a story?" He winced, glaring at me as if I was from Fucktardville. Fuck me for thinking a labyrinth of gorgeous tattoos spun a yarn, what an assjockey I must be for not realizing that a man's arms covered in tatts could be so fucking random.

My stomach hurts something awful at the minee.

I walked away from my lappytoppy for 5-minutes and had a fabalicious idea that I completely forgot. Why? I didn’t write it down. These days if I don’t write things down, they are MIA like Stayin' Alive.

PS: I have been trying to get online to finish this post for almost an hour. Now, I’m irked.

My stomach hurts something awful at the minee.

I need to drink more H2o.

It's no longer 4 AM.

 

design by suckmylolly.com