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[09 Jun 2009|09:25pm] |
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Everyone talks about how crazy life is, where it takes you, where you eventually end up. I don't have much to say that hasn't been by someone or another before. All I know is that I couldn't be happier about where mine has taken me and the boys who I'll be spending the remainder of it with. I couldn't have asked for a better soon-to-be husband or son. As far as I'm concerned, I'm the luckiest girl alive. I love my family more than I ever thought I was capable. I'm excited to see where the next 21 years takes us.
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[12 Mar 2009|08:34pm] |
I love my life.
I love my family.
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[27 Mar 2008|03:32pm] |
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happy |
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SO, after what felt like the quickest pregnancy ever, I gave birth to Dylan Thomas Rogers on March 1st 2008. Perfectly healthy, 10 toes, 8 fingers, 2 thumbs, all that jazz :) I'll post pictures asap, or if you call, 847 414 6395, I'll text you some.
-Kate
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[15 Apr 2007|11:47pm] |
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I never once thought, or even imagined, that I would be the girl that cried because she is that happy.
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[02 Feb 2007|02:41pm] |
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Her Space Holiday |
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You know it kills me to see such a pretty girl so tired
You've got your mother's cheekbones and your father's crooked smile
Forget all those places that you've never really been
And all those situations you somehow found yourself in
Let your body sink into me
Like your favorite memory
Like a line of poetry
Or a fucking fit of honesty
I'll do my best to keep you, keep you sleepy as the south
With my old watch on your wrist
And my thumbs inside your mouth
Suck on my fingertips until you kill all my prints
So your boyfriend has no clue
Of how much I've been touching you
My problem with me is my problem with you
It doesn't take much
For me to come unglued
I put my headphones on
And hear your favorite songs
And it kills me to know
That this won't be one of them
You know it saves me to think even for a little while
I owned the set of shoulders that you came to rely on
Like in that movie theater when you whispered in my ear
I almost didn't make it
This has been my hardest year
Your job is killing you faster than a cancer could
So now you're giving up like they always said you would
You've got that old map out now and you found the farthest town
You hope that if you're lucky this is where you'll settle down
I don't care where you move I don't care if it's far
All that I ask is that I know where you are
In case our timing is right
In case you need more from me
Than a bit of advice
Or a tongue full of sympathy
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[15 Oct 2006|12:15pm] |
| Your Ultimate Purity Score Is... | | Category | Your Score | Average | | Self-Lovin' | 58.3%
Explored the pleasures of the flesh | 64.8% | | Shamelessness | 54.8%
It takes a couple of drinks | 78.9% | | Sex Drive | 60.5%
A fool for love, but not always | 77.2% | | Straightness | 7.1%
Knows the other body type like a map | 44% | | Gayness | 37.5%
At least one weekend of ecstacy | 83.7% |
| Fucking Sick | 70.8%
Dipped into depravity | 89.9% |
You are 48.85% pure
Average Score: 72.4%
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| Starving Artist? |
[10 Oct 2006|04:05am] |
Starving Artist
You are 0% Rational, 0% Extroverted, 0% Brutal, and 100% Arrogant. |
You are the Starving Artist! Like some sort of emaciated Frenchman, you sit in your fancy little chair and contemplate beauty, meaning, flowers, and all kinds of other ridiculous crap. You are more intuitive than logical, and are primarily guided by your heart and emotions. You are also very introverted and gentle. Of course, this does not mean that you do not have an ego. In fact, you are surprisingly arrogant for someone so emotional and gentle. This is why you are best described as a starving artist. You are very introspective and quite sure of yourself, as any accomplished artist is, yet your views are impractical, guided by feelings, and overly gentle. You probably find math, logic, and similar intellectual pursuits offensive to your artistic sensibilities, and you prefer the open-endedness of artistry because it's infinitely easier to ponder the beauty of a sock than to build rocketships. So really you have no reason to be arrogant, you big doofus, because the skills you value (emotion, spirit, art, etc.) in yourself are valuable only on a subjective level, meaning your arrogance is purely masturbatory, like the insipid self-pleasuring of some twat who spouts artistic nonsense only for the pleasant tinkling sound it makes upon his indiscriminating ears. In short, your personality is defective because you are arrogant, introverted, introspective, gentle, and thoroughly irrational...posessing most of the traits needed to be a starving--and useless--artist. So get out there, write a few short stories that are allegories for the indestructible spirit of socks, and starve!
To put it less negatively:
1. You are more INTUITIVE than rational.
2. You are more INTROVERTED than extroverted.
3. You are more GENTLE than brutal.
4. You are more ARROGANT than humble.
Compatibility:
Your exact opposite is the Capitalist Pig.
Other personalities you would probably get along with are the Haughty Intellectual, the Televangelist, and the Emo Kid.
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If you scored near fifty percent for a certain trait (42%-58%), you could very well go either way. For example, someone with 42% Extroversion is slightly leaning towards being an introvert, but is close enough to being an extrovert to be classified that way as well. Below is a list of the other personality types so that you can determine which other possible categories you may fill if you scored near fifty percent for certain traits.
The other personality types:
The Emo Kid: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.
The Starving Artist: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.
The Bitch-Slap: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.
The Brute: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.
The Hippie: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.
The Televangelist: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.
The Schoolyard Bully: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.
The Class Clown: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.
The Robot: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.
The Haughty Intellectual: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.
The Spiteful Loner: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.
The Sociopath: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.
The Hand-Raiser: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.
The Braggart: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.
The Capitalist Pig: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.
The Smartass: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.
Be sure to take my Sublime Philosophical Crap Test if you are interested in taking a slightly more intellectual test that has just as many insane ramblings as this one does!
The following image was made by Stephan Brusche at http://www.sb77.nl, a real-life "starving artist". Check out his website if interested. |
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This test tracked 4 variables. How the score compared to the other people's:
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Higher than 0% on Rationality |
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Higher than 0% on Extroversion |
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Higher than 0% on Brutality |
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Higher than 98% on Arrogance |
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[21 Sep 2006|10:38pm] |
I AM NOT DEAD
Someone needs to give me a way to get in touch with this Dave kid that keeps telling everyone that I've commited suicide. Obviously I'm alive and kicking. Since nobody else has set this kid straight, I guess it's apparent that I have to do the job.
So if anyone has his MySpace, AIM SN, or knows anything else about him... Please fill me in. I don't have a clue who this kid is, and I think at this point I have the right to know.
Thanks :]
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| My Angry Vagina. |
[10 Sep 2006|10:05pm] |
My vagina's angry. It is. It's pissed off. My vagina's furious and it needs to talk. It needs to talk about all this shit. It needs to talk to you. I mean what's the deal — an army of people out there thinking up ways to torture my poor-ass, gentle loving vagina. Spending their days constructing psycho products, and nasty ideas to undermine my pussy. Vagina Motherfuckers.
All this shit they're constantly trying to shove up us, clean us up — stuff us up, make it go away. Well, my vagina's not going away. It's pissed off and it's staying right here. Like tampons — what the hell is that? A wad of dry fucking cotton stuffed up there. Why can't they find a way to subtly lubricate the tampon? As soon as my vagina sees it, it goes into shock. It says forget it. It closes up. You need to work with the vagina, introduce it to things, prepare the way. That's what foreplay's all about. You got to convince my vagina, seduce my vagina, engage my vagina's trust. You can't do that with a dry wad of fucking cotton.
Stop shoving things up me. Stop shoving and stop cleaning it up. My vagina doesn't need to be cleaned up. It smells good already. Don't try to decorate. Don't believe him when he tells you it smells like rose petals when it's supposed to smell like pussy. That's what they're doing, trying to clean it up, make it smell like bathroom spray or a garden. All those douche sprays, floral, berry, rain. I don't want my pussy to smell like berries or rain. All cleaned up like washing a fish after you cook it. I want to taste the fish. That's why I ordered it.
Then there's those exams. Who thought them up? There's got to be a better way to do those exams. Why the scary paper dress that scratches your tits and crunches when you lie down so you feel like a wad of paper someone threw away? Why the rubber gloves? Why the flashlight all up there like Nancy Drew working against gravity, why the Nazi steel stirrups, the mean cold duck lips they shove inside you? What's that? My vagina's angry about those visits. It gets defended weeks in advance. It won't go out of the house. Then you get there. Don't you hate that? "Scoot down. Relax your vagina." Why? So you can shove mean cold duck lips inside it. I don't think so.
Why can't they find some nice delicious purple velvet and wrap it around me, lay me down on some feathery cotton spread, put on some nice friendly pink or blue gloves, and rest my feet in some fur covered stirrups? Warm up the duck lips. Work with my vagina.
But no, more tortures — dry wad of fucking cotton, cold duck lips, and thong underwear. That's the worst. Thong underwear. Who thought that up? Moves around all the time, gets stuck in the back of your vagina, real crusty butt.
Vagina's supposed to be loose and wide, not held together. That's why girdles are so bad. We need to move and spread and talk and talk. Vaginas need comfort. Make something like that. Something to give them pleasure. No, of course they won't do that. Hate to see a woman having pleasure, particularly sexual pleasure. I mean make a nice pair of soft cotton underwear with a French tickler built in. Women would be coming all day long, coming in the supermarket, coming on the subway, coming happy vaginas. They wouldn't be able to stand it. Seeing all those energized, not taking shit, hot happy vaginas.
If my vagina could talk it would talk about itself like me, it would talk about other vaginas, it would do vagina impressions.
It would wear Harry Winston diamonds, no clothing, just there all draped in diamonds.
My vagina helped release a giant baby. It thought it would be doing more of that. It's not. Now, it wants to travel, doesn't want a lot of company. It wants to read and know things and get out more. It wants sex. It loves sex. It wants to go deeper. It's hungry for depth. It wants kindness. It wants change. It wants silence and freedom and gentle kisses and warm liquids and deep touch. It wants chocolate and trust and beauty. It wants to scream. It wants to stop being angry. It wants to come. It wants to want. It wants. My vagina, my vagina. Well...It wants everything.
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[23 Aug 2006|03:38pm] |
RIP: Ian Boone
June 24, 1976- August 23, 2006
A lot of things will never feel the same.
I'll miss you.
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[13 Aug 2006|04:15am] |
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Lisa Loeb- You say |
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Dear Alcohol,
First and foremost, let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. As my friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer at the game, and you're even around in the holidays, hidden inside chocolates as you warm us when we're stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings. However, lately I've been wondering about your intentions. While I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences:
1. Phone calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity take place after 2 a.m. Why would you make me call those ex boyfriends when I know for a fact they do not want to hear from me during the day, let alone all hours of the night?
2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal, but why do you suggest that I eat a taco with chili sauce, along with a big Italian meatball and some stale chips (washed down with WINE & topped off with a Kit Kat after a few cheese curls & chili cheese fries?) I'm an eclectic eater, but I think you went too far this time.
3. Clumsiness: Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to do more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down. It's completely unnecessary, and the black & blue marks that appear on my body mysteriously the next day are beyond me. Similarly, it should never take more than 45 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.
4. Furthermore: The hangovers have GOT to stop. This is getting ridiculous. I know a little penance for our previous evening's debauchery may be in order, but the 3 p.m. hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. My entire day is shot. I ask that, if the proper precautions are taken (water,vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to going to sleep/passing out
face down on the kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the hangover should be minimal and in no way interfere with my daily activities.
Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now & would like to ensure that we remain on good terms. You've been the envoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets.
In order to continue this friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above & address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 3 p.m. (pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions & hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.
Thank you,
Your Biggest Fan
P.S. THINGS THAT ARE DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN DRUNK
1. Innovative
2. Preliminary
3. Proliferation
4. Cinnamon
THINGS THAT ARE VERY DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN DRUNK
1. Specificity
2. British Constitution
3. Passive-aggressive disorder
THINGS THAT ARE DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY WHEN DRUNK
1. Thanks. but I don't want to have sex.
2. Nope, no more beer for me.
3. Sorry, but you're not really my type.
4. Good evening, officer. Isn't it lovely out tonight?
5. Oh, I couldn't. No one wants to hear me sing.
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[09 Aug 2006|03:35pm] |
FINALLY!!!
Here is a picture of my tattoo :]
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[30 Jul 2006|09:41am] |
Somebody needs to take me to these places:
The Skunk Ape Research Headquarters in Ochopee, FL:
Solomon's Castle/Art Gallery in Ona,FL:
The City of Mermaids in Weeki Wachee, FL:
The Coral Castle in Homestead, FL:
:D
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[31 May 2006|07:20am] |
| American Cities That Best Fit You:: | | 75% Los Angeles | | 70% San Francisco | | 60% Chicago | | 60% Honolulu | | 60% Philadelphia |
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| ATTENTION ALL MALES 18+ |
[15 May 2006|02:51am] |
ATTENTION ALL MALES 18+
I'm taking the bus to San Diego CA on June 20th. I'm not too comfortable traveling that far alone and would REALLY love to have someone travel with me. If you're interested, please comment for details.
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| I don't think I've ever been happier in my life. |
[05 May 2006|06:29am] |
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Excited |
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CALIFORNIA,
HERE I COME!
I'm leaving St. Augustine at 11:40 AM on June 20th. Once I leave it should take me about 3 days, and 4 bus transfers to get there. Emmanuel gave me the option of flying, but I decided that I'd rather take the bus. That way I'll get to see so much of the country along the way! It will be so amazing! I can't even begin to explain how excited I am.
This is exactly what I've wanted and needed for so long!
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petrol_emotion's journal
