I Work Here

Today I got the opportunity to take my work to the great outdoors. By that I mean some of my amazingly awesome co-workers let me tag along with them to see something truly badass: nature. All went swimmingly, except for when we were all climbing a hill and I beefed it. I totally ate dirt and buffed my hand on a rock. The funny part (aside from eating it in front of everyone) was I didn't really care. Why not? Well, because we were outside and it really didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

It was like being a kid again. When I was a kid, my life really wasn't all that complicated. There were a couple times, though, when everything felt like it was caving in. Small things got to me and I'd be very close to loosing it. Then I would go outside and everything just faded away. Hunting for horned toads, building tree houses or just laying in the grass playing pogs, it was as close to perfection as anything in my life has ever been. The problem is, you grow up. You discover the wonders of TV or the phone or, god help you, the Internet. Suddenly, outside doesn't seem that cool anymore.

The thing about life is it tends to lead you places you never anticipated you'd be. Every plan I've ever had has gone to complete shambles. Every.One. Sometimes it's a positive thing, other times it makes me want to smash my head on my keyboard. This time, at this job, it seems to be working out. Today was the day I began a courtship with my job. I won't say that I love it because I don't yet. I am, however, entertaining the idea of being in very strong like with it. Maybe someday I will love it and I'll feel like I'm actually doing something that matters. Today was the first day in my entire time at this job that I felt like I could potentially do something meaningful. It was delightful.

Aside from that, I saw some bugs today! Serious, hardcore insects. I saw a beetle the size of my forefinger and more spiders than I knew what to do with. A bee landed on my head and I only sort of freaked out. Then on the way home some roadrunners jotted across the road. ROADRUNNERS.

I know you might be asking yourself, "What kind of job does she have that she sees roadrunners all day?"

Well here's a picture of me out in the field today:



I think we all know how that one ended. Really, really well.

Think About It, Hollywood

Holy God, it's freezing in my office! I just spent the last five minutes in the bathroom washing my hands because the water that comes out of the faucet is warm. Sweet, warm bathroom water.

Seriously, this is ridiculous. I realize it's Christmas week and nobody gives a shit, but it'd be really nice if I could make it to Thursday without getting frostbite or hearing Morgan Freeman narrate March of the Penguins because it's so cold there's actual penguins in here. In fact, I propose that someone make March of the Penguins 2 and film it in my office. Real people, real setting. I even made up a poster* for your consideration, Hollywood:


"I wish I could tell you it wasn't so cold in that office and that KV fought the good fight and the cold just let her be. I wish I could tell you that- but the office is no fairy-tale world."

Just sayin'. You could film it guerrilla style and pay myself and my co-workers to act in it. Although you'd probably have to haul in some penguins and maybe some snow. And Morgan Freeman. And probably a script. But other than that, I think it's a pretty solid idea.

*I think it would be in my best interest to learn Photoshop. Don't get me wrong-- Microsoft Paint is awesome. But to take my time wasting skills to the next level, I think I may need to learn how to alter photos and paste someones head on a body that's not theirs like the pros.

This immune system isn't big enough for the both of us

This is a picture of a healthy, well-functioning cell (the yellow guy) eating and beating the shit out of some anthrax (that poor orange bastard):


This is what your immune system should do. It should attack disease and sickness like an old west outlaw. My immune system should be like the rough and grizzled sheriff that everyone is afraid of. And disease should be like the new, headstrong but foolish outlaw. Sure, Disease may have claimed the cells of helpless immune systems a couple towns away, but he's too silly to realize this was one immune system he should have left alone. This is one immune system that's tired of running from fugitive deases and renegade illnesses. This is one immune system that's not afraid to fight back.

But, seeing as I'm sick for what is literally the tenth time this year, I imagine my immune system is a little more like this:






Really, immune system? You were fooled by a fake glasses/mustace combo AGAIN? I'm going to die by contracting the common household variety cold. And at my funeral people will be like, "Wait how'd she die again? Wasn't it something cool like a zombie bite or falling 200 feet from a cliff face or being smushed to death by a monster truck?" And my loved ones will have to respond, "No. She caught a cold one too many times." There will be shame in their voices and shame upon my family. You mark my words.

Magnus Samuelsson ain't got nothin' on me

I joined a gym today. I had previously been a member of particular lady gym that shall remain nameless (but not lame-less). I was kind of unhappy there and the ladies who worked there were bitches. I already had kind of crappy self-esteem so I don't really need Nazi work-out ladies riding my ass while I was trying to tone that exact same ass.

So after putting in a year at the lady gym, one of my friends suggested I join the gym he was going to. I'm all for breaking a sweat with friends (nothing strengthens the bond between friends like sweating profusely and grunting excessively*) so I agreed.

I'd been a member of this gym before when I was younger so I wasn't too nervous about going back. When I was a member of LA Fitness, I had to give myself a half hour pep talk and drink three Red Bulls before I could even step foot inside. And even then I could only spend twenty minutes on a machine before the voice in my head that said "HOLYSHITEVERYONEISLOOKINGATMECAUSEI'MSWEATINGTOOMUCH" took over and I became two breaths away from being the gym's resident crazy lady. It was a bad scene.

But this gym is more laid back. Nobody cares what you're doing and I like that. I feel good about this change. I've lost a good amount on my own just kind of half-assing it, so now that I'm thinking about maybe possibly putting in a solid effort maybe the rest of what I want to lose will come off easier and/or quicker. Plus I get really hyped up on the endorphins and by the time I leave there I'm relatively positive I could bench press a Volkswagon Beetle if I needed to. In fact, today when I left, I gave a fellow gym goer a high five and accidentally launched him across the parking lot.** Guess I don't know my own strength, which can happen when you look like this:


This is me. Actual size too. Jealous?


* That's what she said.
** This may or may not have happened.

Backup Plan

Today I feel like this:



Which sucks for two reasons. The first of which being that feeling like I resemble a 50 foot tall dinosaur doesn't quite give me the self-esteem boost I'm looking for. The second reason being that if I were going to be any monster, I want to be a zombie. That's right. I want to be a rotted, green, eyeball missing, people eating zombie.

I'd make a good zombie because it'd be the easiest profession* ever. Their only goal in life, er, un-life, is to eat. Granted, what they eat is human flesh, but that's just a small price to pay to be a member of the everlasting un-dead party. All my worries about school, work, social standing and self-esteem would be gone because I'd be dead and wouldn't care. The only thing Zombie Karina would care about is eating and trying not to trip over my decomposing peers. My estimation of what a day would be like in the life of a zombie would go a little something like this:

7 a.m.- Wander around looking for food.
8 a.m.- Wander around looking for food.
9 a.m.- Wander around looking for food.
10 a.m. -Wander around looking for food.
11 a.m.-3 p.m. - Groan.
4 p.m.- Wander around looking for food.
5 p.m.- Wander around looking for food.
6 p.m. - Stare at something off in the distance; wonder to myself if it's food.

I think you get the idea. If my plans to be a professional, well educated and well adjusted adult doesn't work out, I plan on becoming a zombie. So if in the distant future you see me wandering around, dead with half my arm missing, you'll know that behind my cold, lifeless eyes I'm smiling. But, uh, you probably don't want to get too close.


*This is of course assuming that being a zombie is on scale with having a full time job. You would have to have qualifications like, "Can eat up to 10 pounds of brain" and "Has 2+ years experience in being un-dead" and "willing to work holidays, weekends and dark, foggy nights".

Halloween For The Ladies

Whew! Today at work my computer crashed AND it was map inventory day. So, needless to say, doing actual work today was quite tiring. Also, I don't understand how people used to function without a computer. I mean, I know I had a life before computers but it couldn't have been that great, right? I don't know how I could've functioned all those years without knowing what celebrities were up to or what free stuff was up for grabs on Craigslist.

Anyway, do you know what today is? October 1st! So it is officially the first day of my Halloween costume search. I did what all Halloween enthusiasts do and went to Google. So here I am, searching costumes and I see that the women's costumes are are surprisingly similar.







I think it's pretty safe to say that the designers of women's Halloween attire pretty much follow this equation:




I don't know that I feel comfortable showing off my lady bits in Spandex outfits just yet. But I am considering being a contestant from Legends of the Hidden Temple (Team Blue Barracuda, of course) or Velma from Scooby Doo. Because Velma was a hip, hip lady who never got any play.

Blarg, Monday

I was going to blog about the weekend in Sedona, but my computer is being a tool. More of that, the weekend not the big box of ass that is this computer, later in the week.

What a bleh sort of day! In an effort to keep the Monday's at bay (yeah, I said it), I've decided to take the cue from my favorite Stephanie and all those who came before her and make a list of reasons why I should stop being so lame and wimpy and start to be happy and awesome. Here we go:

1. The Office comes back this week



I just want to point out that the phones used in this show are the exact same phones I use at work. I point that out every episode, every time. Even if they're out of the office setting, I'm like, "Hey, just so you guys know, the phones they use are the phones I use. So, you know, it just goes to show how dedicated they are to keeping it like a real office." I'm pretty sure everyone ignores me during this show.

2. Vampire Weekend or My Morning Jacket concert


Vampire Weekend


My Morning Jacket

The radio is right up there with the list of things I hate the most, along with Tyra Banks and spelling errors. But my iPod adaptor is broken so I'm forced to listen to whatever the radio gods decide to torture me with. But last night was different. Last night I swallowed my pride and actually called into the radio station and tried to win My Morning Jacket tickets. I haven't done that since I was in 8th grade and there was a certain, not at all embarassing band that I wanted to see. I want to see My Morning Jacket more but Vampire Weekend is cheaper. See the dilemma? Maybe this'll be the week I get enough courage to go donate plasma. The building is terrifying. It's surrounded by bums and I'm pretty sure rusty needles are involved. But 50 bucks is 50 bucks.

3. New haircut



One can only hope.