Kersten Kelly’s blog

What is your favorite quote and why?

"The church is near, but the roads are icy.  The bar is far, but I will walk carefully."

Need I say more?  Obviously some genius quoted this one on the way to the bar.  Possibly an Irish Catholic.  Woot.

So, in order to get free pearl earrings, I must link this page to mine.  So, if you like pearl earrings, or if you have a woman in your life who might, link this to your site too:

Pearls  

What is the worst date you've ever been on?

I was in high school, and my horomones were raging.  Ok, not really.  That actually sounds super creepy.  But, I was ready and willing to be in the dating world.  And I had NO idea what the eff I was getting myself into.  I worked at a retirement community (mistake #1) and I ended up sharing with some of my co-workers that I was dateless, and I had been for a while.  A girl was listening and chimed in that she had the "perfect" friend for me.  He was "really cute, smart, and funny."  Sidenote: people's definitions vary greatly when they are considering individuals.  I was pumped to say the least.  It was all set.  I was going to meet her and her boyfriend for a double date with this guy.  We would meet at the movies.  7 p.m. sharp.  Go flight.

Have you ever arrived somewhere, took one look at a situation, and wanted to kill yourself?  I mean, if I had a spare gun in hand, I probably would have just gone through with it.  Little did I know, this would be the WORST date I've ever been on.  When I walked into the movie theater (decked out in my super awesome overalls and an abercrombie shirt -- that shit was "the shit" at the time), my butterfly stomach churned to vomit.  I saw my "cute" date for the first time.  And then I realized that my co-worker thought I was the ugliest girl she has ever seen.  I mean, we all are on standards/levels/equality etc.  Whatever you want to call it, there are levels of attractiveness that everyone is on.  Apparently, my co-worker put me on the level 2 scale.  Thanks, Jaime.  I am not a shallow person typically.  But, as you all know, you have to have some level of attraction to someone you are going on a date with.  My date had greasy hair, extreme acne (which I can sympathize with completely), probably backne (again, sympathy), and an unattractive face.  I didn't even want to admit that I was actually there.  

I sound like a complete bitch as I read this.  Wow.  Well, if anyone considered dating me before, I'm sure this post killed your buzz.  But, I went into the movie with the kid.  He didn't offer to pay.  I'm not saying that is completely necessary.  It just would have been a nice gesture.  I sat through the movies.  He didn't talk.  I am a talker.  So that went really well.  I pretty much attacked him with questions, gestures, and anything I could think of to get some reaction.  Nothing.  

It was then the stellar idea of my co-worker to continue this shit show.  "Let's go get starbucks guys."  It wouldn't have been that bad if this happened recently.  I could have been like, "how about the bar instead?"  Then, I would get completely shitfaced and not worry about what the hell this kid looks like or what the fuck he (didn't) have to say.  But, instead, I got to drool over his incessant talking and stupid jokes while drinking expensive coffee that I paid for.  Lovely, eh?  Half way through starbucks, I sent an SOS message to my friends to rescue me from this hell hole.  5 of my lovely friends rolled up to starbucks and made up some story that I needed to leave immediately.  Note to self: always have friends ready for back up when going on a date.  

Lesson to this fable?  Never go on a blind date.  Lesson number 2: ask people's definitions before you trust their judgment.  Meh, it makes for a funny story.      

I coined the infamous title of this blog entry from Steve T. Kibler.  I believe in citing sources.  I read this title "Bitch Log" on his MySpace page like 3 years ago and got such a kick out of it that I remembered it until now.  It's absolutely useless being savant.  But, I guess it provides me with the means to formulate completely worthless blog titles that no one even gets.  Ok, this is irrelevant.

So, this is my Bitch Log.  I don't like to be a complainer, but I feel as though this is something that most people can agree with.  Efficiency is a concept that I think a lot of bright people have trouble with.  Being a college student, I usually have a lot to do everyday.  And, it seems as though I get stuck with the most incompetent college students surrounding me.  I don't know if it is the fact that they had too much to drink the Monday night before or if they are just lacking motivation for life.  And yes, it is completely acceptable to get smashed on any day that ends in Y.  There is a Facebook group that I am currently a member of called "I only drink on days that end in Y."  And, we all know that Facebook is fact.

Continuing with my complaints about the inability of students to comprehend simple things.  So, in college, they always tell us to "think outside the box."  There are so many brilliant minds here at Indiana University.  But, I believe that the average genius that I sit next to in class fails to recognize the simple "think outside the box"...or just think outside beer concepts.  For example: in my finance class the other day, my teacher was passing out notes that he printed off to the entire class.  The classroom is not extremely conducive to quick passing in the first place.  And, the teacher could not start class until all of the students had the notes.  I watched the teacher give 100 stacked papers to one student to get it started.  One student at a time.  Greg "I need constant hydration" Knowitall (aka the only one who answers questions and who simultaneously manages to consume 40 drinks in one 75 minute class period -- side note:  doesn't his back hurt from carrying the team?  both, in effin' questions answered and a backpack of 28734897234 assorted drinks) passed me the large stack.  Being the ambitious and impatient individual that I am, I tore the papers away from hydrated Greg and split the stack in half to redistribute.  As I was splitting the stack, I ripped the stapled papers apart in front of a bunch of classmates.  Pretty sweet, eh?  It was actually really funny, and then I made an even bigger fool out of myself by busting out laughing.  Classy.  Dad would be proud.
    

How many push-ups can you do?

0.  I have never (and probably will never) been able to correctly perform a single push-up.  Don't get me wrong, my elementary gym school teachers tried.  They really did.  Arch your back.  Support your upper body.  Stretch your back.  Blah.  But, my body is not much of a "push-up" type body.  I will admit, I have an 811 scored arm.  But, that's only according to the punching machine at Longshots.  Yes --- that's right.  I'm a meathead. 

So, I used to think it was really creepy when people were obsessed with their dogs.  And, some people still are super creepy.  I have/will never understand how the eff people can make out with their dog.  I mean, come on.  There is a limit to the love and affection to show an animal.  But, I love my dog so much.  Here is a picture of him:

Wrigley

I know its really weird to write a blog post about a dog.  But, he is the most loyal creature I've ever met.  Every time I walk into my house he is there to greet me with more excitement than someone who just won the lottery.  And I'm not even cool.  So, here's a shot to Wriggie.  May he have tons of tough days sleeping on the floor, sitting on Mary's couch, and playing with his thousands of babies.  I can't resist.  Check out this picture:

Wriggie

I went to a psychic once in my life.  She told me that my father was sick with heart disease.  That was accurate.  But, for the $10 I gave her she just chose heart disease as a default?  I mean, White Castles are freaking good.  And, any true American knows the value of fast food.  It's more than the dollar menu.   So, I guess most Americans are subjected to being "sick" with heart disease.  I mean, come on.  No one can honestly admit that they would pass up a slider and some cheese fries.  At least any Irish barfly named Kersten Kelly can't.  But, I will rant and rave about how much I adore WC another time, I promise.  Thrilled?  I bet.

Anyway, do you ever wonder what it would be like to know what would happen in the future?  I think about this concept a lot.  But, I have mixed feelings on it.  Most things I would not want to know.  Like I was going to flip multiple times down a flight of stairs while dressed as bat woman in front of 200 people.  Or if I was going to say "your mom" (when this god awful phrase was popular -- those crazy teenyboppers of the '90's) to one of my friends whose mother died.  Or if they decided to discontinue making WC (that would be an absolute sin).  Funny thing?  The first two actually happened to this girl.  Classy, eh?  I know, I am the epitome of a klutz (both mentally and physically).

I guess I just care about people a lot, to be frank.  And, I hate seeing my friends and family upset in any way.  Seeing into the future for me would be about preventing the people I love from being hurt.  But, how does this build character?  I believe in fate.  And, I truly believe that everything happens for a reason.   So, trying to prevent tragedies would just be altering what is supposed to happen.  Good or bad, there are reasons for everything.  So far, this theory has held true throughout my 21 years.  And, as we all know, any good economist like myself cherishes the very notion of a profound theory. 

I have one fault.  That's right -- just one.  (I'm sure 90% of the 2 people that read this are keeling over laughing right now)  I can't keep surprises a secret.  I ruin them all the time.  The hype just builds in my mind until I explode.  And, that's why Mario and Princess broke off their engagement.   I told her.  Sorry, Princess.  No, but really.  I live for surprises, and knowing the future would ruin them (even if I do that on a regular basis).

There are chances to alter the future, but the chances are given to you if you make the best of the present.  Tragedies in life are what make thrills and joys that much better.  If there were no downs, the ups in life would be an expectation, not a privilege.  So, take advantage of every good thing because good things don't come around everyday.  And as for the tragedies, remain strong, rely on your family and friends, learn to cope, and you will inevitably end up a stronger individual from it. 

Like I said, good things don't come around everyday.  Any good psychic will tell you that secret.  So, take advantage of the good things.  And while you're at it, head to White Castle and pick me up some burgers and chicken rings.  WC is always a good thing.

One of my favorite sitcom shows to watch is Scrubs.  Honestly, no matter what kind of mood I am in, the characters of Scrubs can make me laugh out loud.  This clip from Season 7 is absolutely hilarious.  Enjoy!

Show us a brand to which you're loyal.

The Running Goddesses Wear These

What is the worst city you've ever been to and why? 
Submitted by Soup.

Loa, Utah.  Population 525.

I would not consider Loa a freaking city.  I consider it a "poe dunk" pimple of a village.   And that is a generous description.  So, here's the story.  My Mom and sister are avid campers.  They like the rugged, tough outdoors.  They like sleeping in a tent next to the bears.  The only Bears I would sleep next to are from Chicago, and I guarantee it would be in a blingin' hotel.  Now where the fuck is my spritzer?  Irrelevant.  So, my senior year of high school summer I was dragged out into the west in our Dodge Caravan -- The Silver Bullet.  Mom and Steffie mapped out all of our destinations, and I just drank a lot of Vodka to endure the stressful trip. 

As we climbed a huge mountain in our van to go to Escalante State Park, our van "bit the bullet."  All of a sudden, the transmission spewed fluid all over the road, and we were 60 miles from the nearest town.  It was 120 degrees, and I was accompanied by the two most car illiterate individuals I know.  Being the brave young soldier that I am, I offered to trek the 120 miles in the scorching heat to town to find help.  I got blank stares and rolling eyes.  I was in good shape.  It was the peak of soccer season.  We waited for a while for someone to help.  My sister's Sprint cell phone got no service.  Note to self:  if Mom ever lets me get a cell phone, don't buy Sprint.  Check.

Finally, two men in a Ferrari pulled along side our car and asked what was wrong.  As we tried to explain the problem, they muttered "just drive it back down the mountain" and zoomed off into the distance.  Their effin' smoke was the only trail of the two "courageous" men in their Ferrari.  Note to self:  never trust men.

Finally, a woman named Katie pulled up in her 1990 Jeep Cherokee and offered us a ride.  60 miles out of her way.  Thank you Katie.  On the way to Loa, Utah, Katie told us what a great city it was.  It was the biggest town around.  Blah blah blah.  A load of bullshit.

Upon entering Loa, I was less than impressed.  There was one gas station, which was also the local auto shop, which was also the local diner, which was also the local strip joint.  Ok, that was a stretch.  But, really.  There was one "Mom and Pop" food joint, a gas station, and like 4 houses.  I could have named 10 million places I would have rather been.  And the projects in Chicago would have probably made the list.  The status of our car was bad.  It was pretty effed up.  Lovely.

Loa was the worst town ever.  I don't know if it was the lack of things to do, the eerie townies, the fact that I puked up my breakfast later that day (on a trek up a 12,000 foot mountain), or just the overall aura of the Mormon religion that almost prevented our car from being fixed for a week.  Being stuck in Loa for more than 24 hours would be a complete nightmare.  The "Silver Bullet" needed to be in a silver gun.  Get the point?  Not a road trip that anyone should take.