Karin Mitchell's books on Goodreads
Between Families Between Families
reviews: 5
ratings: 8 (avg rating 4.75)

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Some quick house cleaning

STOP FUCKING SPAMMING ME! Ok, I'm sorry. I know spammers don't know how to read. I know that CAPTCHA is close to being as annoying as spam. But I'm enabling it again on comments for at least a brief time in order to stop reading Chinese characters in my inbox and then trying to find it in the actual post and delete. Grrrrrr.

In other news, I just finished reading the book Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex and have to tell you: fascinating. There's info on a study of spinal cord injured patients and their orgasms... yeah, they can have orgasms. There's also a study of rats wearing polyester pants to see what it does to their sex experience (wear cotton- just friendly advice.) Every page has something that makes my eyes pop.

So yeah, sorry again about the comments change. Please comment anyway. Or don't. Whatever. I appreciate readers either way.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Pumpkin Catapult

So I was talking to my father-in-law the other morning over breakfast about the insane level of rednecks living in his area. Aside from a love of burning things in his yard, he's very NOT rednecky. Anyway, we were talking about the "these colors DO NOT RUN!" and "Palin" and other eagle/flag related stickers that are more prevalent than liquor stores in the ghetto when he told me about the newest in Redneck Halloween trends.

Pumpkin throwing.

You can just throw regular, or shot put style or OR you can use the catapult. Yup, I said catapult.

First reaction: AWESOME. I want to do this. How fun would it be to catapult a pumpkin and watch it smash against a target or a building or a truck with a fucking Palin/Eagle decal on the back window!

Second reaction: There are people starving in the world and we THROW. OUR. FOOD. In your face, starving children!

*hang head*

pumpkin throwing

That said, I'd want a slingshot. But not like this guy. He seems like if he lets go, he'll be eating humble (pumpkin) pie.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Thanks ya'll

Really? I have to do this? The whole what'reyouthankfulfor? Fine, but I'm not going to like it. Here goes.

Every year on Thanksgiving I go for a run. Always by myself, and always a wonderful introspective full lunged run. I love it. So I'll start there.

My nephew, Collin and really my entire family of in-laws. A girl just can't get luckier. They let me cuss and be obnoxious and weird and have my wedding my weird way and be a ski bum or a writer or a delinquent or a teacher or a social worker and not only accept me but seem to like and be proud of my quirks. But back to my nephew. My family's all girls. And I'm a busy girl. I like to run and play and rough house. He does too. We went to the City Museum yesterday and played and chased and ran ragged. I'm glad I get to have a relationship with him where we do that. Get each other. His dad and my husband stood around holding coats and meeting up when and where we were supposed to. I'm thankful for them doing that.

I'm thankful the City Museum exists. I remember when it first opened and it was just about 4,000 square feet. I'm thankful enough artists with enough good ideas and love of fun and play got together and keep getting together to make it bigger and better and more and prettier. Now there's a 10 foot slide and a rooftop with a bus you can get into that leans out over the edge of the 12 story building. I'm thankful that the architects and artists and welders and employees took their jobs and not something more practical with better hours or better pay or better exposure. I'm thankful those people got educations that encouraged art and allowed creative minds to flourish.

I'm thankful for my body and all I can still do with it. That surgery and time and falls and injuries have allowed me to continue to ski, and cross country ski, and run, and play at the City Museum, and play soccer, and hike, and ride a bike, and swim, and do yoga.

I'm thankful for all the girls in my family. Their long beautiful legs, their blue eyes, their smiles, their fierce intelligence, their many and varried talens, their selfdeprecating humor, their unending support, the way we all appreciate and enjoy each other and all keep in touch.

My brother. Who brings out the devious ideas that are mostly whimsy with one small part shitdistuber. His love of music, cooking, and all things family. Him reproducing turned out pretty good for me too. I'm crazy about his girls and can't even remember what it was like before them anymore. I'm thankful that he and his wife make him being home with them a big enough priority that he stays home with them. Thank goodness for stay-at-home moms and dads. Its not a life cut out for all of us and not everyone can do it, but everyone benefits from the mom or dad who keeps an eye out in the neighborhood and who could be called on to help when you're stuck in traffic or volunteers regularly in the classrooms or bakes things themselves or does little things I don't notice because I'm a hurried gal who just won't always notice. Just cuz someone doesn't notice doesn't mean its not important or valuable.

For my mama. Did I mention she's moving across the street from me. She closed on her house this week. Wild! We'll be developing a system of flag signals for when its safe to just stop on by and when one should call first. How sweet is that!

I'm thankful for my job. I'm glad I get the chance to work with families who need help and try and offer that help in a dignified way that respects the fact that they love their kids.

My many, many friends. They're all the colors of my rainbow from the slutty reds, to the funny oranges to the thinking greens and the bright yellow fuckups and the black elegant dinnerwear and the bluebird ski days. I'm a whore for making people laugh and you make me feel funny and clever and beautiful and smart. You are there to ski with and to bitch about work and drink beers and dance like hos in rap videos and make dinners together and write poetry and discuss our newest ideas and hike and cry about my broken places and read this shitty blog and I really really appreciate you.

And for my husband. Who fits in every category up here. I'm thankful for him playing his banjo along to Michael Jackson songs and laughing when I put on my halloween costume and spend all day dragging a microphone around the house singing songs at the top of my lungs cuz I think I'm funny. For being quiet when I cry and letting me do it. For holding my hand through the miscarriage all the way up to today. For the fact that he always turns the last lights off, locks the door, and lets the dog out before bed because he knows I'm tired and don't want to. For listening when there's something really wrong and trying to fix it. For working his ass off for all the people who can't pay their rent or utilities or medical bills and for doing it while still respecting them and making the community I LOVE a better place by doing it. For earning my respect.

Ok fine, I liked it a little. Thanks ya'll. Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

How hard to hit

So at the bar the other night in St. Louis (I'm visiting my wonderful old friends and family,) we're talking. PPP is talking about how much she loves some new $750,000 microscope and says she loves it more than her daughter and while she starts to explain why I pop her on the top of the head.

It makes a really loud noise. And the guy who owns the bar and is PPP's friend's jaw drops. (He's never met me before and I like to make an *impression*)

I apologize to a laughing PPP, and he says "No I think that's exactly the strength of hit that comment warranted."
"Yeah, I know just how hard you're supposed to hit. I work for Social Services."

Like I said, I like to make and *impression*

Friend Request

So out at the bar the other night I was telling this story about how my old roomate has TERRIBLE taste in men. To illustrate the point I was talking about this dude she was kind of into for a while. One morning I was up getting ready for school and found him sleeping naked on the couch. I shrugged and went off to class, figuring I'd ask her about it later. Come to find out he pissed her bed. AND did. not. wake. up.

She kicked his ass out onto the couch and cleaned things up. So as I'm telling this story I finally figure out who this guy is that I got a friend request from on Facebook and am all "Holy shit, that's who he is."

So I sent him this message:

"Are you the one who slept in Christine's bed and I found you sleeping naked on my couch like 10 years ago? Cuz if so I'm definitely going to have to accept your friend request. That shit was funny."

Friday, November 20, 2009

Friday Quotes

"Are you going to keep the stache? Maybe it'll be like eyebrows for the lips--a human sweatband!!! AWESOME!"

"Next time I want a lawyer, not an attorney. I may be dyslexic but I'm not stupid."

"Lately, I have been worried that I may have a rare form of "Clothing Loss". Happy to hear that I am not blacking out and leaving my clothing around town"

A- "I like that afghan looking thing. Shawl? Wrap? Sherwrap?"
B- "You're looking elderly this morning."
C- "Shut up. You *wish* you could wear a blanket over your clothes all day!"
A- "Yes, I do."
B- "Ooo, I could hide a gun under it and be like Poncho Villa!"

"Does she have H1N1? Is she gonna die?"
"Yeah, she's gonna die. She was just waiting to get her internet installed first."

"so one of my fb friends (who I don't like in real life, but whatever) is all like "I can't believe I'm going to be 23 in a week... I wanna be like, I can't believe you look 35, you taneroxic alcoholic whore... but I restrained myself. I'm becoming a grown up :)"

"K-doesn't understand why anyone would be a cutter. I have three separate cuts on two fingers and I can't stand it."

FB Pic of the Week

license plate

Thursday, November 19, 2009

The Wind Eliminator

Last night my yoga class was done entirely blindfolded. Which would've been a lot cooler if I hadn't been surrounded by dudes, one of whom had super stinky feet. Guess what sense of mine is heightened when I'm blindfolded.

wind relieving pose

Which is also why when we did the "wind eliminator" posture pictured above, I felt justified lettin it all go and hoping his was heightened as well.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Friday Quotes

For the record I love Sesame Street, but I love jokes more.

"G supposes you think it's funny that she had hot sauce on her finger and then picked her nose."

"If you wear tights all day and have a date that night, for the love of god, WASH YOUR FUCKING VAGINA."

"It's hard to write about sex when your daughter is reading an Archie McPhee catalog & prattling on about zombies & yodeling pickles"

"Happy Anniversary Sesame Street! Cheers to 40 years of having a hand up your ass."
"Happy 40th Sesame Street! Hope the cops don't getcha for drinking a 40 on your 40th. Maybe you could pay that green homeless guy to be your lookout."
""...happy 40th birthday Sesame St! That bird isn't getting any bigger. I say we eat him now!"

"A painter paints pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence."

"I’m sorry. I’d reply in more detail, but I’m masturbating to Bea Arthur…"

"The only way to replace awesomeness is with more awesomeness."

"I got 2 days of work done this morning. I got paid for 20 hours all before going skiing at noon! How sweet is that?"
"Ah, its good bein' white, huh?"

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Serve Yourself Margarita Bars and Politics Don't Mix

During the last election there was an event for the Democratic candidates at our local office. Senator Ken Salazar, now Secretary of the Interior, was to be there. It was a big event.

Multiple people had brought items to contribute to the serve yourself, margarita bar. Now, I should mention that I don't normally drink margaritas and I don't have much of an alcohol tolerance. Also, I don't know how to make a margarita. That will become evident shortly.

So, I stand in front of this bar, shrug and start throwing shit in a glass. I plopped a couple of ice cubes in, dump in some margarita mix and then some tequila. Seems harmless enough, right? I look around for lime or anything else fancy I'm supposed to do, shrug and start drinking it. "Wow its strong." I think. So I try to drink it fast to make it go away. Well, apparently the mix already had tequila in it.


So next thing you know, I'm talking to the Speaker of the Colorado House, Andrew Romanoff. I recognize him but through the tequila, I don't recall from where.

So I tell him about how I think when you vote on constitutional amendments, in addition to the yes and the no, there should be a FUCK NO. I told him exactly which amendments you should be able to vote FUCK NO on as he looked awkwardly surprised.

"What did you say your name was again?"

A few minutes later, it sunk into my horrified brain.

Rob brought this story up the other day because he's now running for US Senator and will be coming to events in our area more regularly. I can't wait.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Tala bara svenska

So right after graduating from high school I was an exchange student in Sweden for a year. It was a very mixed bag and a very good experience. I knew no one. Being in another country all by yourself at 18 builds a lot of confidence. At the end of a year, though, I was very glad to come home. I missed my mom and round door knobs and velveeta and driving and seeing black people.

In Sweden, I went to high school. Their high school system runs about a year longer than ours does and at the end you come out with more like an Associates Degree. All my high school friends in the mean time though had gone to college. We had a fantastic summer catching up. One girl had joined a sororiety, someone else had traveled the country in her car, another joined the military. And we came together for a summer of crazy adventures and reaquainting ourselves.

One weekend we went out of town together for a weekend to a girlfriend's college town. We somehow managed to get into a bar and were quickly surrounded by men panting over us like steaks. And of course, they were wasted. We probably were too but I was worldly and I talk a pretty mean game when I'm wasted so off we went to the races.

I hadn't spoken yet, (I often hold back in crowds and watch for some time before contributing anything- this creeps some people out but fuck 'em, I gotta size things up.) So all of a sudden my girlfriend starts telling the guys at the table that I don't speak English. This explains my bug-eyed watching and they're immediately intrigued. (swedish bikini team is clearly swimming through their drunken minds.)

swedish girl

My friend pretends to translate as I say what dipshits they are in Swedish and make other nonsensical conversation.

"My aren't the skies purple? I bet it means you don't shave your chest."
"She said she likes Illinois."
"This guy's prolly got a wang like a fruit fly."

Suddenly, as though my friend has begun understanding a few words in Swedish she says, "She says she's never seen an uncircumsized penis."

We've been playing this game for a while now so I try to supress my shocked look and continue to pretend not to speak English. Keep in mind the whole premis of me not speaking English is stupid because EVERYONE in Sweden speaks English. They start learning it in nursery school.

"Really?" He says.

She continues goading him. "No she says she's never seen an uncircumsized penis and she wants to. She asked if you're circumsized."

"I'M JEWISH!" The guy says, thrilled at his good fortune.
She whispers her translation in my ear.

By now, all my girlfriends are leaning in to see what'll happen.

My friend continues, "She's asking if this means you're circumsized."

He laughs, "Yeah, all Jewish guys are circumsized."
She whispers in my ear again. She's now gone from just making little pshhhhpsst pssss noises to saying "don't laugh, just keep playing along."

"She says she wants to see it."
"She wants me to show her, my circumsized penis? right here? In the bar?"

She whispers in my ear a little more and I nod, attempting to will my face into not blushing deeply.

There's some discussion back and forth about whether the guy'll get kicked out and who could see. My friends, eager to "help," crowd around him, promising to shield him from anyone seeing but us.

The bar is too crowded anyway, they croon.

And. He. Pulls. It. Out.

And it is the grossest, most discolored, unsexy, wrinkly thing I've ever seen!

We all hoop and holler and yell and he quickly replaces his pants.

After this everyone needs and gets a shot or in my case more like three. We party some more, chat up more attractive boys and then get ready to leave. By now, 3 shots deep, I go up to the guy, tap him on the shoulder, and say good bye and good luck to him in Swedish.

"HUH?" He says repeatedly until I finally turn around and say "HAVE A GOOD ONE!" I see the shocked as I walk out looking behind me and follow up with "YEAH, I SPEAK ENGLISH."

Friday Quotes!

Yeesh, sorry for the slim pickin's. Don't know what happened this week, rest assured that you all continued to be clever and make captivating comments. I just spaced writing anything down, apparently.

"Never follow a hippie to a second location."

"His pants were a spandex trainwreck."

"I used to play bass for Spandex Trainwreck."