I made a post on Instagram recently that gained a bit of curious attention. I posted about going for a run and enjoying it. Now, most people who know me are aware of my true apathy toward sports. I understand that the idea of me going for a run seems surprising, but I would like to dispel the notion that I am completely unable to be athletic. I have actually made three athletic achievements in my lifetime. And two were for running, you bitches. Read on.
Happy Mother’s Day to my mom, who is the loveliest lady in my life. She constantly says things that are adorable, like the time she was pulled over, and upon being asked if she’d had anything to drink that night replied, “just milk!” She still loved me after getting a call letting her know that “Katie is pooping under the neighbour’s tree” when I was three. She tolerated the many times my sister and I trapped her in the bathroom until she said the one word she hates more than any word, ever (The C Word). She is patient and kind. And she’s going to be pissed about the picture I posted below.
Throwing it back to the time I got my first (and only) chef’s hat, made by my mom. This was obviously before I had surgery to correct my T-rex arms. I still have that hat somewhere. I should wear it.
Today while I was walking down the street, I passed a dude who jabbed his finger at me while yelling “fuck YOU,” and adding a hearty “FUCK YOU, TOO” to the rest of the people on the street.
I’m still not sure what caused his outburst – was he ill? Was he on my period?
“Have a good one!” I shouted over my shoulder.
At first I wasn’t sure what had upset him so. But later, I came to a conclusion: I think he had eaten a dark, dry and tasteless pumpkin pie. He was probably forced to buy one from the grocery store, over-spiced and overpriced. What “fuck you” really meant was, “fuck you for not sharing with all of us the pie recipe you have enjoyed for years. Fuck you for making us live this way.”
Street Meanie, this one’s for you.
Thanks mom and dad, for capturing these precious moments in my life. Who knows what was happening here (maybe it was the velvet shirt EW) but it was probably my sister’s fault…which is maybe why she laughs the hardest at this picture.
And I know what you’re thinking, that photo looks familiar, right? Well allow me to refresh your memory…
You know when you are really cool and confident, and everything you want to say comes out smoothly? I don’t. I do know how it feels to sneeze and fart at the same time in public, or trip over my own toe…
How many pumpkin-themed recipes do you want? (WHERE MY BASIC BITCHES AT?)
“Katie. Why don’t you just go to Jessica Seinfeld’s website? Jerry Seinfeld’s wife. She has a food blog AND a cookbook, and she is funny. Just send her a picture of yourself and say you admire her and MAYBE she will link you to her thousands of Instagram followers? THAT’S who you should be making connections with. People like that.”
What have I been waiting for? All I have to do is email the most famous people I can think of? DOY. Well fuck it, why don’t we just skip Jessica Seinfeld and go straight to Oprah??
Mom, you’re the cutest.
So I’ve had an SLR camera for about five years now, and I just learned what “aperture” and “shutter speed” meant about three days ago. I guess I should be embarrassed but I just live in my own little world doing my little doogie thang (doogie is a word I use for anyone that is lovably clueless/stupid/unaware). So I hope you’ll find that these pictures look slightly brighter, more colourful and more pleasurable to your eyeball.
If there’s some photographer out there looking at my photos, I know they’ve got a sympathetic smirk on their face as if to say, “Oh look, she wants to be a photographer! Bless her heart.”
Bless my heart, you guys.
Little doogie (that’s me) figured out how to make a light box this weekend, thanks to this tutorial. That’s right. My photography is about to get a little less embarrassing and a little more delicious.
This is another favorite from my cookbook by the Pioneer Woman. The scones are crumbly, tender, light and on their own not overly sweet. But they’ve been dancing in a maple-flavoured rain, and they gotsta warm up with a cup o’ tea.