All The Blogging Ladies...

An embarrasing story of my teenage years:

This occured at 1st year orientation at UVA. I didn't know what "going out" meant. Somehow, I was the only girl in the entering class that didn't have a roommate for orientation. So, I went to all the daytime activities alone. Then I sat alone when we all sat around in a circle and did various ice breakers in our pajamas. At 10pm, I thought that everyone would just retreat to their rooms to read their course catalogs.

Then I started hearing everyone say that they were going to go to the "Corner" or "Rugby Road" and they changed out of their pajamas and into black pants and tube tops. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to meet people, but I didn't know what was going on. So I went out to the quad area in my pajamas with my course catalog. I did one of two things for the next 30 minutes- 1) Walk up to a group of people who were waiting to go out and ask them what courses they were taking, 2) Lay on my tummy in the dark and pretend to read my course catalog, and when people would walk by (or over) me, I would try to ask them what courses they were taking.

Everyone's reaction was the same- "Um, haven't decided yet" [snicker snicker snicker]

To be clear- I had known what courses I was going to take basically since I got accepted. I don't know why I was carrying the course catalog around.

Don't Blog the Covers

I really hope that I have a life that doesn't involve me spending a whole lot of time in airport hotels. Nothing good has ever happened at a hotel near an airport. All the nomads and commercial pilots of the world convene in airport hotel bars every night, and I want no part of that. I can only imagine the conversations that occur:

Pilot: "Hey, I'm a pilot staying at this airport hotel"
Response from lady: "Oooh la la. Well let's take a flight to outer space"

Pilot: "Hey, I'm a pilot staying at this airport hotel"
Response from lady: "Hey, I'm a flight attendant staying at this airpot hotel"
And we all know how that story ends.

The Blog Beneath My Wings

Yesterday, my photography teacher, said "I was reading that really popular Arthritis magazine, you know...." No, I'm sorry m'am, you are going to have to clarify.

Then my 24 year old friend started a sentence by saying "I was reading Reader's Digest..." My parents are not willing to splurge on a new pair of Spalding shorts for my dad, but they were willing to pay for 30+ years worth of Readers Digest subscriptions.

While we are on the subject of huge disappointments, I practiced for my first kiss by making out with my shower wall for 2 years. Then when I had my first kiss, the boy had Skoal in his mouth.

If you can't beat them, Blog

I don't understand how anyone believes in cartography.

There is absolutely no way that anyone in the history of the world has traced what every single inch of this earth looks like. No one can be absolutely sure. For example, this cannot be an accurate drawing of the Chesapeake Bay Area.

http://www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/historical/chesapeake_1812-1814.jpg

I believe that all maps are approximations of what generations of explorers and "cartographers" agreed on to make their job a bit easier. In other words, they cut corners. Literally. They cut corners of the continents when they were roaming around with their rulers and then guessed what these corners would look like. It is BS.

Not to change the subject, but someone alert the Bias Respose Team. My feminine doctor told me this morning that I should go to finishing school to get rid of my accent. Thanks. I thought that "finishing schools" only existed on the Gilmore Girls.

Chicken Soup for the Blogger's Soul

I remember when this used to be the ultimate symbol of poverty:
http://www.kravshop.com/images/products/ikmf-workout-pants_03.jpg

It was the ultimate faux paus to wear fake two-stripe adidas pants in gym class.

Now, I can't respect anyone who actually wears real Adidas attire. Or Reebok. Or KSwiss. Or Umbro.

I once knew a grown woman who wore size 1 shoes. She wore black high top reeboks every day. I thought that was an interesting choice.

In the spirit of sharing, this is nice: http://www.io.com/~hmiller/shrine/img/mermaid-dolphin.jpg.

T.G.I.B (Thank Goodness I Blog)

I never want to work in an office full of people that look more uncomfortable in their casual friday clothes than they do in their work week clothes.

It's kind of like the time I saw a girl wear a "Make 7 - Up Yours" Tee-shirt to church.

Everybody knows that John 3:16 tee-shirts that mock Austin 3:16 tee-shirts are the only tee-shirts appropriate for worship.

New Blogger on the Block

There is nothing more awkward than checking to see if someone is in the bathroom stall, and making eye contact through the crack of the stall door with the person on the toilet.

Blogger commits Petit Larceny

A story from my past:



This occured on a Friday in August of 2008. I got a hair cut at Hair Theatre on Robinson St. at 3:45pm. At 7:30, my phone rang from an unknown Richmond number. I answered, and the following conversation occured:

Me: Hello
Voice of a Stranger: Hello, is this Kimberly?
Me: Yes
Voice of a Stranger: You got your hair cut this afternoon, right?
Me: Yes
Voice of a Stranger: Well, I think you took the pen with you when you left.
Me: What?
Voice of a Stranger: You signed your receipt with a Sharpie and I think that you took it with you when you left.
Me: Oh yea, here it is.
Voice of a Stranger: Can you bring it back?
Me: Um, ok.
Voice of a Stranger: I will give you the brown Sharpie if you bring the purple Sharpie back.
Me: That's not necessary.
Voice of a Stranger: See you soon!

I, of course, had realized that I had taken the Sharpie half way on my walk home. But I did not realize that the small business would notice/care. The part that offends me the most is that they thought I would want the brown Sharpie.

I took the Sharpie back on my way to a cook-out. The woman had kept the salon open late so that I could return the Sharpie.

Blogging Gets Vulgar

If lusting after a vampire while spading is illegal, then somebody call the campus police...

http://www.foroswebgratis.com/imagenes_foros/1/3/6/2/9/721109Edward%20Cullen%203.jpg

A Blog A Day Keeps the Followers Away

http://blogs.tampabay.com/juice/images/2007/11/07/fabio.jpg

My third favorite TV Moment of all time:

Average Joe 2 (Hawaii):
The girl, Larissa, after weeks and weeks of going on awkward dates, finally chooses Gill. Gill was one of the surprise "hunks" that were thrown into the mix to upset the "average Joes". Throughout the whole season, the show had alluded to the fact Larissa had a huge secret. At the end of the final episode, Larissa and Gill are rolling around on the beach, and she decides it is time time to reveal her huge secret to Gill and America. She says "Once..when I was younger...I dated Fabio". He kicks the sand and says "What the f*ck, you b*tch" and runs into the ocean and we never see him again.


This is upsetting to me mainly because I didn't think that Fabio was actually a real person.

Blogging Goes Topical

The fear of Friday the 13th is called paraskavedekatriaphobia. Which makes sense.

Apparently there are approximately 17-21 million people in the United States that suffer from this fear.

There are two things in the world of which I am scared:

1. Having a friend make me talk to one of his or her friends that I have never met on the phone. There are only so many things that you can say to them. Examples include:
a. "Hey!" (followed by nervous laughter, which is ultimately concluded with an awkward silence)
b. "I've heard a lot about you". Which will definitely be followed with the stranger saying "All goods things I hope?" And then you will fake laugh hysterically and say "oh, i don't know" in a way that suggests that you actually have heard millions of terrible things about the stranger.


2. This sketch: http://mylifeofcrime.files.wordpress.com/2007/11/baby-grace-sketch.jpg. In regards to this drawing:
a. Why does this toddler have such long flowing hair?
b. Why does she look like a dinosaur?
c. Why is she wearing the same outfit that I wore the first day of classes my 2nd year of college?

I Would Follow You Into The Blogosphere...

You will always remember where you were the moment that they announced that the color "blue" won the M&M contest in 1995.

For more information on the subject, read this quote from an article that I found on the intranet:

I distinctly recall the color tan being part of the mix throughout my childhood, though I couldn’t remember exactly when it had been replaced by the vibrant and way too cool blue ones. Clearly I needed to mend this hole in my culinary memory. My wife, who is somewhat older than I, pleaded indifference, “I never paid attention to the colors”. Sacre bleu! (or blue, as the case may be) How can you not notice the color of your M&M’s? “And another thing,” my wife said to me as she crunched on a handful of M&M’s in bed, “you know how they say the chocolate doesn’t melt in your hand? Well, the candy coating does. It leaves colored spots all over your hands.” I hesitated to point out that I didn’t think many adults suffered that problem; I was after all getting into that bed with her, and wanted my fair share of the covers. I did tell her that the slogan in question, "The milk chocolate melts in your mouth—not in your hand"®, debuted in the initial TV advertising from 1954. After working a few more tidbits of M&M’s trivia into the conversation, she finally took the bait and asked why I had suddenly become so well versed in M&M’s lore. “I’m writing an article about M&M’s,” I explained. “What will your approach to this article be?” my wife inquired of me, in tones that suggested she considered my subject matter to be, shall we say, unique. “That blue M&M’s taste better.” Clearly this confirmed her suspicions that she had indeed married a lunatic, and she rolled over and went to sleep.


This begs the question of why is this couple's life, marriage, and conversation controlled by M&M's? Why is his man writing an article about M&M's? Why does the wife's older age mean that she is more indifferent to the color of M&M's? Why is the wife crunching on M&M's in bed? This leads me to believe that they keep M&M's on their nightstand. I imagine that their sheets have M&M coating spots all over them. Why did he take this article to a personal level by bringing the bedroom into play? He could have less creepily told this story without mentioning the words "bed", "covers", and "getting into that bed with her".

If I had a dime for everytime someone said "What's the Address to Your Blog?"...

If I could I have dinner with one person, living or dead, it would be the person who looks good with his or her butt crack peeking out of the top of his or her jeans.

Even the Best Bloggers Make Mistakes

I have received numerous (or zero) emails about why my blog is entitled OshKoskMyGosh. To be frank with you all, that was a typo. The title should actually be OshKoshMyGosh, obviously. You may ask me, "Keemberhoo, why don't you just change the name of your blog to OshKoshMyGosh?". But that would be like Celine Dion changing her name to Feline Dion. Once fame has been established, a "backspace" or a "delete" button doesn't exist anymore.

You Wouldn't Understand, It's A Blogging Thing

When is Jane Seymour going to realize that no one cares about her endorsement of products?