Karen and Erik

I just got into work and hooked up my XM Radio (the old school Roadie 2) and flipped on channel 27, Cinemagic, the station that only plays movie scores or songs featured in movies. I listen to nothing else while at work.

Right now they’re playing the movie score to Cloverfield, which I saw and didn’t particularly like. Here’s the thing though, I don’t recall Cloverfield having any score during the movie. And since it was supposedly from home movies taken during a tragic monster attack, wouldn’t there have been no need for a movie score?

As she mentioned here, I’m building K a desk. All that’s left now is the finishing:

The other day, a new visitor to our site asked me, “What ever happened to the Martha Stewart letter?” Well, here’s what happened…

I actually got a letter back… from her publicity department. Telling me to send a self-addressed, stamped envelope to this other address. And I thought, what the hell, Martha? I KNOW you have an extensive stationary wardrobe. You’re telling me you can’t front me an envelope? So the letter stayed on my desk at work for a while, and I’m not sure what happened to it.

Meanwhile, the fabulous Becky told me that her mom had a friend who worked with Martha, and she was totally going to get her autograph for me! How amazing is that? Some time went by and I asked Becky about the photo, and she said that she DID have a photo for me… but…

OBVIOUSLY, she must have sent me the photo that Dr. Mrs. Fitz requested. So Dana, do you have MY photo?

Becky is working on getting me a corrected one. But this photo will stay on the fridge for a while. Maybe I’ll gift it later on to someone who makes a donation to The Breast Cancer 3-Day. Or I’ll just send it to Dr. Mrs. Fitz so she can show it off to Caroline.

Meanwhile, I’m thinking of writing her another letter so I can include a self-addressed, stamped envelope. Maybe this time the letter will say,

Dear Martha,

You’re the greatest! I wanted to get your name tattooed on my ass, but I worry that when I start popping out kids, your name will look more like MMMMMMAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRTTTTTTTHHHHHHHAAAAAAA. So can I just get your autograph instead? Thanks!

Karen (not Dana)

Hi everyone! Did everyone have a good weekend? I hope so. Ours started with a hot date with Iron Man (OMG SO DOPE) and dinner with friends. On Saturday, we finally returned that stupid Pottery Barn desk at the mall. Instead of dragging it through SouthPark Mall, we went to the delivery entrance to meet the PB clerk. While we waited for him to bring the cart, we found ourselves surrounded by over a dozen puppies. It was as if I suddenly walked into some twee poster I might find on my 2nd grade guidance counselor’s wall. The Char-Meck Animal Control was having a pet adoption fair, and they were all waiting to use the service elevator. Despite my impassioned please (asking really nicely twice), Erik and his heart of steel would not relent. We went home puppy-less. My heart shed tears.

Later that afternoon, our neighbor came to visit and I was able to meet their new springer spaniel puppy, Roto. My heart exploded with puppy joy while Erik watched, probably thinking rational thoughts such as “we can’t have a puppy because we aren’t prepared to care for one, how are we going to walk it/check on it during the weekday when we are working?” Whereas my brain was screaming “PUPPY! PUPPY! PUPPY! PUPPY!”

This is a big difference in Erik and I. He is excellent with retaining rational thought, and thinking things through thoroughly. His thought process is wise and lucid. My thought process is likely covered in glitter and old Dorito crumbs. It has three settings: On, Off, and Opposite Day. Also, it probably resembles the monosyllabic thought process of a toddler. After all, as those who attended our wedding know, Erik is a THINKING person, and Karen is NOT.
Maybe instead of getting a puppy now, we’ll just play with Roto. That situation yields all of the cuteness, none of the poop. Meanwhile, we have had our friends with dogs bring them over in order to gauge the reaction of the cats. When confronted with a dog (or another cat, actually), Fred puffs up and makes a deep, manly yowl. So manly in fact that you’d think he still had his testicles. Holly runs away, which is surprising since she’s a certified menace to society. Either way, they’re going to have to get used to the fact that there may be a day when their pampered existence has a surprise visitor who will shake things up. Which sounds like the plot for The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Does this mean Will Smith is coming to live with us?