28 April 2011

Post #21

Holy fuck.  If I see one more useless, blubbering, tearful article posted on Facebook about how silly it is to ask our President to produce his birth certificate because...wait for it...it takes up precious time, I am going to lose my shit.  He has had three years to produce this certificate.  It would take me three hours and I'm going to tell you how.

First Step: Call my mom and ask for access to her safe deposit box.  (2 hours, 30 minutes...thanks Officer Joe for getting her that much needed cell phone.)
Second Step: Drive to my mom's bank.  (10 minutes)
Third Step: Ask bank lady for access to safe deposit box.  (2 minutes)
Fourth Step: Sign up for a free checking account...I seriously need to work on just saying no.  (13 minutes)
Fifth Step: Open the safety container, ruffle through it's contents, resist urge to take my almost matured bonds.  (4 minutes)
Sixth Step: Put the bonds back and take my birth certificate.  (1 minute)

And there you have it folks.  I'm not even the President of a fan club and I could manage to get the thing in under a day. 

Side story: Just answered the phone at my office and it was my mom.  She wanted to tell me about the new alcoholic beverage for Jews. 


Rad.

Wonder how much it costs...

Toodles,


Katie E. Eshelman

26 April 2011

Post #20

While going through a shitload of old papers, photos, letters, and magazines...well folks, I hit literary gold.  I would like to thank my mother for saving this, I think she truly thought one day I might need this (I think she knows better now.)  And so, I share with you:


Jackpot.

It would take entirely way too long for me to share all the wonderful tips and suggestions so generously provided by Ann Landers, so I will choose just one.


Dear Mary, 

Your mother obviously chose the wrong name for you. 
The answer is no, you should not be allowed to wear a white dress. 
You are clearly a promiscuous whore who loves dick. 

Sincerely, Katie E.

Ann Landers was horribly mistaken. Never fear ladies, I have righted her wrong.

"What your dress says about you: A Story of Color."

White DressCollege was really, really boring.  You probably have a stock pile of batteries. 
Off White Dress:  You experimented...just that once.  He was supposed to be forever.  You drank/did too many White Russians at that party.  Hey there sweetie, stop making excuses and just go for the...
Really Off White Dress You are normal.  Cheers!
No Semblance of White Dress:  Your name and number are probably in every bathroom stall of your husband-to-be's fraternity house.  The prostitute hired for his bachelor party could wear white before you.  "What, What (In The Butt)" is on your iPod playlist.  Kudos.

There you have it, hope this helps one lucky woman make the right choice.

In all seriousness, these guides were vital back in the day to help one navigate through the treacherous path that is life.  So just in case:


Go ahead and put me down for How To Be Date Bait.  Thanks Ann.

It's almost nine, I should get back to work.

Katie E. Eshelman

20 April 2011

Post #19

Why I love my job?  Reason #1

At my company we like to uphold a certain standard.  We want our customers to be fully satisfied once the job is complete.  Hell,  we even want those people who are not our customers to be delighted.  That's right.  If we enter your home by accident, tear out your flooring, and install floors that you didn't even ask nor pay for?  You better be happy as fuck.  We call it the Surprise Home Makeover.  No need to look for cameras, there aren't any.  It just so happens your neighbor a street up has the exact same layout, furniture, existing floors, and key under the back mat.  She wanted the flooring we gave you...oops. 

Memo to all employees:  send installers to every job site with balloons and a point and shoot camera.   

Coming up next...
Working with the hearing impaired. 

Katie E. Eshelman

19 April 2011

Post #18

EMAIL ADDRESSES:  govboard@susd.org, gcatalani@susd.org

For the most part I try to keep my attitude on Facebook pretty light. I mean, it’s a fabulous way to keep in touch with family, reunite with old friends, meet new interesting "friends", maybe stalk a couple of exes...whatever floats your boat.  However, it is also a great way to join a cause.  To be honest, I rarely promote a cause other than anonymously donating or “liking.”  To all that have asked me to join their cause and failed to rally my support, I apologize.  The reason is this: today the Scottsdale School District officially dissolved all security guard positions at Arcadia and for that matter, all guards in the district. (I know I have some Saguaro and Chaparral friends out there.) Yes, that means my mother.  If you remember Mrs. Eshelman from Hopi, Ingleside, Arcadia, or any other time; you should know this woman should be honored not cut off at the knees. (Side note: that would be impossible considering she is Robocop.)  Let’s not forget Ronnie.  Who knew what the power of a Taco Bell burrito could hold.  It was quite magical.  Lastly, who could forget John?  His dedication to baseball and baseball players was quite extraordinary, really…kind of hard to explain.  So, this is the deal…tomorrow I will post the address of the head honcho of this horrendous decision.  I hope, and humbly ask all of their supporters to send a letter, note, sob story, or email to these morons.  Hell, flicking a middle finger into the wind would be appreciated, just to show how much these two women and man should be respected.  They only cared for us like we were one of their own, probably more so in my case.  So this is for them, as Arcadia would simply not be the same without them. 


Katie E. Eshelman

18 April 2011

Post #17

One of my new favorite songs.


One of my newest lows?  I just finished watching the entire Lifetime made for TV movie 'William & Kate.'  That's right...and let me just tell you, it was absolute shit.  I blame my childhood crush on Prince William (it's ok to judge me as I already have.)  It was weird, I almost got a little jealous halfway through...I should have been the Katie in this love story.  The Jezebel stole my man.  I went ahead and played back that inner monologue to myself...aaaand that was rock bottom. 

Goodnight,


Katie E. Eshelman

15 April 2011

Post #16

Photography Class #2

I rolled into the parking lot for my class a good fifteen minutes early.  I knew Gene was probably already sitting there; waiting in anticipation to spew forth more intense, personal information.  Therefore, I decided to sit back, relax, and bide my time till the exact start of class.  Well fuck my life...I forgot my car's clock is five minutes fast.  I walked upstairs and the hall was empty.  I turned the corner into my classroom expecting it to be full.  It wasn't.  There she was...all by her goddamn self.  That would make it just the two of us.  Fuck, fuck, fuck.  My ass didn't even have a chance to hit my chair before the onslaught began.  So Gene, we are going to go ahead and try this again.  Topics of conversation I am adding to your list and begging you to keep to yourself:  your macular degeneration, the shots that are administered directly to your eyeball for said condition, the bath you took after going to Goodwill, and most of all the reason and method in which you want to kill people.  Seriously, you threatened a tech support guy with a Tsunami.  Bad form.

There is just one more thing.  A little pronunciation lesson for you Gene.  You own a Canon.  You can't say it correctly...so embarrassing.  You seem to want to pronounce it kah-nun.  Can I assume you think it is short for the word conundrum?  In any case, I have no choice but to call you out on your mangling of the word.  I have provided a link with audio below to instruct you.  Hit the audio button, listen, and learn.   


I am officially ready for the weekend.  It's Passover time and the red wine will be flowing.  Things are going to get absurd.   

Best regards,


Katie E. Eshelman

13 April 2011

Post #15

One of my number one grievance with females.

Your bra is showing.  Ladies, ladies, ladies.  God gifted us with Victoria's Secret.  She then gifted us with a chesticle wrangler that can be transformed into seven, yes seven, different bras.  I have graciously provided the link below.  


I am not without shame.  It happened.  Once.

At the ripe old age of fourteen...when I didn't even need a damn bra.

There should be no reason why you have to have your bra protruding from your shirt.  It's just sloppy.  Bottom line, keep the skivvies hidden.

Now I have to get back to pretending to work.  Which in my case involves nothing more than typing really, really fast.

Till next time,

Katie E. Eshelman

11 April 2011

Post #14

I'm not sure why I have been gifted by so many old pictures over the last few months, but I can assure you I am enjoying the hell out of them.

"How big of a pain in the ass are you going to be when you grow up?"

I can only assume someone said the dreaded word "moist." 

This duck is f%#!*&g crazy.



I don't even know where to start.  This picture is a gold mine.  From my mother's knee highs (way to relive those high school days mom) to my father's pinky ring (really dad?).  I can say one thing for sure.  "Dearest Megan:  you will never have to worry about them sagging that low.  Truth."

Alright, I have wasted enough time to call the clock.   I am officially 32 minutes away from breaking lose from my 8-4.  I shall then make my way to the ASU campus to pick up my dearest cousin Charlie for wing night at JT's.   Life is rough. 

Happy Monday,

Katie E. Eshelman

 

08 April 2011

Post #13

Photography Class #1

Last night I had my first photography class in downtown Phoenix at the Center of the Arts. I had my camera packed, my notebook and pen in tow, and my gun concealed in my purse. I arrived early as usual and had the pleasure of meeting old, retired Gene.  Why can't I just be late for once?  Quick lesson for you Gene, in the first ten minutes of meeting someone these are some topics you should avoid:  your middle-aged woes, your tax problems, the fact that you want to bomb Canada, and most of all your breast reduction.  Thank you.  Class adjourned.

06 April 2011

Post #12

I have been lying on my couch the whole day due to the stomach flu and I'm feeling ornery.  So I decided in order to combat feeling like death warmed over...I would make a list of four things a man can never look cool doing.  In no particular order.

1. VW Bug circa 1998-present.  You can't look cool driving behind the wheel of one of these vehicles.  I don't care if it has been pimped out by Xzibit, that is unless he pimps it into a truck.  Besides, we all know that if you are behind the wheel of this car it's because of your woman.  There is a goddamn vase built into the dashboard.  Man up.  Tell her that there is no way any respectable man with balls would drive a car with an "I am a princess" license frame and smiley face bumper sticker.  Then prepare for a fight. 

2. Riding bitch on a motorcycle.  This one is pretty self explanatory.  It doesn't matter if it's crotch rocket or a Harley.  Use an alternative method of transportation.  A taxi, a bus, hey here's a thought...use those hooves you were born with and walk.  Yet, if you do ever find yourself on the back of best bro's ride the most important rule is: never, ever let him give you his helmet to wear.  Ever.

3. Mandals.  Man sandals.  We can all thank Tevas/Ancient Rome for this style fail.  I will just provide photographic evidence and we shall move on.


The man purse is just as offensive.
 



4. The Cosmopolitan.  For the love of all that is good in this world don't order a "girly" drink at the bar, save that for the privacy of your own home.  A martini...acceptable.  An appletini...not.  In addition, ditch the straw boys.  If you do happen to order that pink lady the least you can do is chug it and then tell the girl next to you giving you the "what the fuck is he thinking" eye that it was a dare. 

Side story:  my dad's drink of choice is vodka/soda/splash of grapefruit.  So, my dad and I were on the way up to my cabin and decided to stop by the Sidewinder for a cocktail (think Cowboy/Biker bar).  He ordered up the usual and then went bright red when the waitress put his drink down in front of him.  All they had was pink grapefruit juice which they served to him in a cordial glass.  My dad could barely save face as we were sitting next to a man with a giant beer and side glass of whiskey.  Needless to say, on the way home from the cabin he ordered an Amberbock instead.  Lesson learned.

This list might only be in my book but in my book they hold true.  Ladies you are next as you can offend just as grievously.  Phew.  I feel a little better, although the ramifications of the Ramen I ate earlier have yet to come to fruition. 

To being happy and healthy,

Katie E. Eshelman

05 April 2011

Post #11

In order to keep my girlish figure I generally try to eat healthy.  So I decided to go to Jack in the Box for lunch.  I don't know what the hell prompted me to order the grilled chicken salad as it's pretty much on par with going to your drug dealer for an aspirin...but I did.  It reminded of this. 


So my lunch sucked and now I am still hungry.  At least the glass of wine I have to wash it down is delicious.  On that note I bid you adieu.

Katie E. Eshelman

01 April 2011

Post #10

Happy Day of Fools.  My God the stories I could tell of my father's pranks.  And I would...but it would take too long and I can't focus right now.  Let's just say he once posed as an IRS agent and called a friend.  The end of the story involved a new pair of undewear.  Legendary.  Thought of pulling this prank...


.

...however, it was not original enough.  I need something substantially better. So, back to the drawing board. 

Work Update: 

The typical: I was late.
The important:  My dad's nap.
The only phone call:  My dad asking me to google hatch chiles...he just wanted to know about them.  I told him they were from New Mexico and there was a festival on Labor Day honoring said chiles.  He wants to go.
The good: I am eating at Morton's tonight for dinner.
The bad: I have to work. 
The ugly:  Having to call my uncle in order to give him a claim assignment in Chandler.  He asked if it was an April Fool's joke.  It wasn't.
The productivity level:  From 1-10.  1.69. 

Happy Friday,

Katie E. Eshelman