25Peeps

I made 25peeps!

Okay, here's the scoop. 25Peeps is a website that displays the pics of 25 "peeps" that link to blogs. The peeps are sorted by popularity, which is based on how many times people click their picture. When a new peep enters the roster, the least popular peep gets pushed off the site. The idea is to stay on the front page as long as possible because it increases traffic to your blog.

Hopefully, if enough of you click my pic, I can stay on 25Peeps front page for months on end like good ole Tits McGilicutty here...

which is really just some guy's pimply butt...


Disturbing... yeah, I know. (BTW, here's a link to pimples' website--he's funny.)

Anyway, I think you can click my peep once a day (that sounds kind of perverted), so please click here, then click my picture and come right back!

REMINDER: YOU CAN ONLY CLICK IT ONCE A DAY!

Tootie's Bong

Okay, ummmmm... I watched The Facts of Life religiously, and wanna know how I missed the following episode:

"Mara-what-a?"

I love how hardcore it is. Tootie didn't buy rolling papers or a pipe--she bought a bong. Three of them. Go Tootie.

I'd give anything for a follow-up episode, one where Tootie buys a crackpipe, but I think we've already seen that. It's called "Whitney Houston: The E! True Hollywood Story."

(BTW, how messed up is it that the producers made the one black girl on the show buy the bong? Why couldn't Joe have gotten all tangled up with this pot-smoking girl-band? We all know she was a lesbian.)

Excuses, Excuses, Excuses

I did a radio interview this morning with Rick & Brad from KATT-FM 100.5 FM in Oklahoma City. They were cool. We talked about the NY Post article, particularly the reasons women gave for knocking a few men off their "number"...

EXCUSES NOT TO ADD HIM TO 'THE NUMBER'

• If he yells out another woman's name
• If one or both of you ends up gently weeping
• If he might be gay
• If he took you out for a vegan meal first
• If you're drunk, or you could have been drunk had you been drinking
• If you just gave up smoking
• If you just gave up having meaningless one-night stands
• If it's Tuesday
• If he's small
• If he's small-minded
• If he's Jared Leto

They asked me what the best excuse I heard while doing research was, and I drew a blank. I guess the most common excuse was, "It was barely in, so it doesn't count," which is total bull, because it's either in or it's out--you know what I mean? So anyway, while this might be the most common, I don't know if I'd say it's the best excuse.

So help me out, aside from the above, what are some excuses you've used to not add someone to your number? BE HONEST.

(By the way, if I applied the above excuses to my number, I'd stil be a virgin. Okay fine--maybe not a virgin, but I'd be damn close.)

Sucks to be This Guy

I keep coming across this and laugh every time...

Beverly's New Hairdo

I'm gonna grow Beverly's hair out like this just for fun:



Oh, my grubby dog. Look how cute she is.

UPDATE: I'm totally joking; I'd never do that to her. ;)

And the Motivation Continues

"Quit yapping and bring it," I say...

...because at the end of the day it's not going to matter what you say, but what you do.

(I'm a sucker for this kind of stuff.)

Think Different.

This is old, but I love it.

At the time of the ad, the following words (which are slightly different) were on Apple's website...

Here's to the crazy ones.
The misfits.
The rebels.
The troublemakers.
The round pegs in the square holes.
The ones who see things differently.

They're not fond of rules.
And they have no respect for the status quo.

You can praise them, disagree with them, quote them,
disbelieve them, glorify or vilify them.
About the only thing you can't do is ignore them.

Because they change things.
They invent. They imagine. They heal.
They explore. They create. They inspire.
They push the human race forward.

Maybe they have to be crazy.
How else can you stare at an empty canvas and see a work of art?
Or sit in silence and hear a song that's never been written?
Or gaze at a red planet and see a laboratory on wheels?

While some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius.
Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world,
are the ones who do.

HSN or Bust

OMG I LOVE HSN.

Right now they're having an hour of Boyd's Bears. They're like Beanie Babies, but even more irritating. The hosts and call-in guests are simply FABULOUS. Hearing grown women recite the following lines has truly been the highlight of my day.

"You can never have too many Boyd's Bears."


This is Ruby B. Snazzle. "This one spoke to me."



This is Alaina Dubeary. "She's ready to hit the town with her boa!"




"I think Mondo Minkles has a crush on Miss Pinkerton."

Also... "It's nice that Miss Pinkerton is this far-forward with regards to fashion." (They were referring to the bling on her shirt.)

"This bear was made for lovin'."


This is Ima Princess Bear. "She's very Hollywood."


Also... "She's wearing slippers that come off, because bear feet get very hot."



I mean, this is some funny sh*t and I haven't even been drinking.



BTW, if you love home shopping channels as much as I do, make sure you read Augusten Burroughs' first book called Sellevision: A Novel. It's HILARIOUS.

The New York Post Rocks

Not only is there a big article in today's New York Post about "your number", but it features 20 Times a Lady and me as the expert (I'm an expert on all things 'slut' now), AND is on the cover of the Pulse section. Yippie! Thank you Marina! Here's a scan so you can see how cool it is:




And here's the article. I bolded my parts. ;)

YOUR LAYS ARE NUMBERED
5, PURE; 10, YOU'RE PARIS? THE FUNNY MATH OF N.Y. SEX
By MARINA VATAJ

October 24, 2006 -- TO a woman, size does matter. But it's not the size you're thinking of. What women really care about is the length of the list of former lovers, which is usually either too many or too, too many. No matter how sexually liberated (or liberally sexual), most women believe that the number of guys they've had sex with (the average being somewhere between 7.2 and 10.5, depending on the survey) really does count.

According to Karyn Bosnak, author of "20 Times a Lady" (HarperCollins, $13.95) - a novel about a 29-year-old singleton who vows to cap her lovers at 20 since it's almost double the average - when it comes to men, it's all about the number.

"Women are very conscious of the number of sexual partners they've had," says Bosnak, 32. "And even though it's ridiculous to worry about increasing your number, that's exactly what happens."

Take Jessica, a 23-year-old who's had sex with five guys - that's five fewer than the average woman - and is already thinking about stopping while she's safe, so she won't be sorry.

"I'm at a point where I feel I have to seriously consider before having sex with the next guy I'm interested in, because he's just going to up my number if he's not the one."

The apropos number of partners changes depending on which survey you check out. The Durex condom company states that the average number of partners for women is 10.5, while a survey conducted by physorg.com says the average is more like 7.2.

Bosnak, who researched the topic for her novel, found that women like Jessica think their short list should be shorter partly because the woman with longer lists tend to lie about her numbers.

"The average number of sexual partners women have in a lifetime is more like 15, especially since this is the liberal, live-single-longer New York, and the ones who say otherwise are deflating the figure," Bosnak says.

Essentially, these women tally their number of partners based on who's left once they've applied all the self-deluding excuses they've created to make themselves feel they haven't crossed some mental line.

That's the case with Samantha, 28. "The last two guys I had sex with don't actually count because both of them went under a minute and I didn't get anything out of it. The one prior to that I slept with when I was drunk and in college, and that gets erased because of the rule, 'What happens in college, stays in college.' "

Despite her low number, Samantha, like most women, believes that the maximum partners a woman can have before turning from a complete girl-next-door to the whore-next-door is 20.

Andrea, 28, practices the same funny math. "I've had nine sexual partners, but I tell my boyfriend that I've only had three," she says. "I don't count some of them since they only happened once, and why should I risk him telling him and having him think I'm easy when I can tell him otherwise?"

Whether it is the pressure of friends or just the old-fashioned idea that men think that their mate should be pure, women care less about pushing the boundaries and more about pushing men away if it means one less digit.

"It's completely ridiculous, but it's totally true," Bosnak says. "To some, a number is the difference between being dubbed skanky Paris Hilton and being considered a respectable woman."

So what does this say for ladies looking for love - but having sex on the way there?

"As long as women continue to lie about how many men they had sex with, the appropriate number will always be low when really it should be whatever it happens to be," Bosnak says.

EXCUSES NOT TO ADD HIM TO 'THE NUMBER'

• If he yells out another woman's name
• If one or both of you ends up gently weeping
• If he might be gay
• If he took you out for a vegan meal first
• If you're drunk, or you could have been drunk had you been drinking
• If you just gave up smoking
• If you just gave up having meaningless one-night stands
• If it's Tuesday
• If he's small
• If he's small-minded
• If he's Jared Leto

© 2006 NYP Holdings, Inc. All rights reserved.

Paris Syndrome

Apparently some Japanese people need psychological counseling after visiting Paris.

"Around a dozen Japanese tourists a year need psychological treatment after visiting Paris as the reality of unfriendly locals and scruffy streets clashes with their expectations, a newspaper reported on Sunday." Full article here.

They think Paris makes them crazy? They should try hanging out with my family during the holidays.

Feed for Dummies (Me)

So, in the left column underneath the 20 Times a Lady section, I've added "feed" information and links so you can subscribe to this blog and read it in a feed reader, or receive emails when I update. I consider myself pretty computer literate, but all this feed stuff--RSS, Atom, feed readers, etc.--confuses the crap out of me. Now I know how my mom feels when she tries to operate the DVD player.

Can anyone tell me the very basic difference between RSS and Atom? Also, I've been told that I shouldn't have both on my blog--is this true?

My Friend Randy

For all those who read Save Karyn, this is my friend Randy, who I wrote about in the second half of the book. Randy and I were the producer/editing team for a show called "Dog Days" on Animal Planet. He was one of the few people who knew about savekaryn.com from the get-go, and helped "support" me when I was broke by giving me things for free, like beer.

And this is where I talk him up...

"New York City indie director Randy Slavin, the best since Kubrick...

Kidding. He doesn't need me to talk him up--his BRILLIANT work speaks for itself. And now... "Double-O-Stachus."

Here's the quick story... Randy was backstage with his friend Ryan Star (the guy from Rock Star TV show--they've been friends since they were little), and they were bored while waiting for Ryan to go on, so they wrote, directed and shot this in a half hour. Also in it is Cheyenne Kimball (the girl from the MTV show "Cheyenne"), and of course Randy, as Stachus.

To view some of Randy's other work, please visit his YouTube page, Videethis.


UPDATE: Someone asked about my old roommate Scott from the book. He still lives in New York and we are still friends. Pics of him and his insane Jack Russell Terrier Veda can be seen on my MySpace page.

As for Potentially Gay Brad, the last I heard he left NYC and moved to the midwest somewhere. (Maybe Chicago?) He has not tried to contact me or anyone else I know, so the status of his sexuality remains unknown.

New York Post

I'm going to be in tomorrow's New York Post, so check it out! I'll post a link when the article is available online. (It's about the book.)

Inside American Airlines

So I watched the most interesting documentary on CNBC tonight called "Inside American Airlines." It's aired a couple times this past week. Did anyone else see it? If you haven't, you MUST. The next time it's on is Sunday, October 29th.

Here's some info on it:

Inside American Airlines: A week in the life

And some reviews...

"Fascinating..." The Seattle Times

"A journey well worth taking..." The Fort Worth Star-Telegram

"[An] engrossing portrait of the world's biggest airline..." Newsday

And one more intertesting article I found on the Internet:

MSNBC - Behind the scenes at the world's biggest airline

Gee George, what a brilliant idea

"Bush says he will consult with generals on change of tactics in Iraq."

Do you think this just dawned on him today? "You know, maybe we should change what we're doing over there because things aren't going so well."

The Best Part of This Story...

is that Haley Joel Osment drives a 1995 Saturn.

Haley Joel Osment Pleads No Contest to DUI

Of Course He's Gay

Did I not just admit that I had a crush on him? I did. If you read Save Karyn, you'll know this is a thing with me. I'm often attracted to men who end up being gay.

EXCLUSIVE: Grey's Anatomy star T.R. Knight Confirms He's Gay
THURSDAY OCTOBER 19, 2006 03:30PM EST

Grey's Anatomy T.R. Knight is gay, he has confirmed exclusively to PEOPLE.

"I guess there have been a few questions about my sexuality, and I'd like to quiet any unnecessary rumors that may be out there," Knight tells PEOPLE in a statement. "While I prefer to keep my personal life private, I hope the fact that I'm gay isn't the most interesting part of me."

Feel My Boobies

It's October, Breast Cancer Awareness month. While I was browsing around online, I came across a website called Feel Your Boobies.


It was started by a breast cancer survivor to raise money and awareness for the cause. The name of the website not only made me laugh, it made me want to get involved.

I briefly thought about starting my own charity called "Feel My Boobies." I could sell t-shirts that we could wear around town, inviting strangers to fondle us.

However, after giving it some thought, I decided against it. No one wants strangers to fondle them. I certainly don't. (People I know, on the other hand, are more than welcome to feel me up.)

Instead, I donated $1,000 to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, and I'm looking for you to match it. Y'all were champs for UNICEF back in July, so open those wallets once again if you can. All we need is $5 from 200 people to meet the goal. Here is my team page:

Karyn Bosnak Team


As a bit of incentive, anyone who donates at least $20 will get a little 20 Times a Lady notebook:


And, anyone who donates the entire $1,000 will get to feel my boobies. Seriously. For like five minutes, I'll totally let you.

Being Told No

I went to Connecticut this past weekend to see my sister and niece, and I have to share these pics with you. They're of Nora crying after 'Kay Kay' (that's me) told her 'no.' Apparently she doesn't hear the word 'no' very often. (Click the pics to make them bigger.)

Isn't she the cutest thing ever??? With those big lips and cheeks? And four teeth? I love her.

The Best Children's Book

So, my sister sees this children's book called How Big is a Pig?




She flips through it, and it's filled with pics of animals, and Nora likes animals, so she buys it. When she gets home, she reads it to Nora. There are dogs, hens, frogs, etc. inside, and Nora seems to like it, so it seems like a pretty good book. But then, at the end, it reveals who the biggest pig of them all is... (Click the pics to make them bigger.)



Yes, MOMMY is the biggest pig of them all.

Needless to say, my sister threw the book away. I pulled it out of the garbage, however, so I could scan it and share it with you.

It's Beverly's Birthday Today

She's four. I asked her what she's gonna do on her big day and she said, "Um... sleep, go potty, sleep, eat, sleep, go potty again, sleep, eat again, sleep."

Visit Beverly at Dogster.

Confession: Sunday Night TV

I tell people I watch 60 Minutes on Sunday nights even though I really watch America's Funniest Home Videos.

Another confession: I laugh my arse off at AFV even though I wanna bitch-slap Tom Bergeron.

And another: I laugh hardest at the videos of people falling down.

Blogger Beta

I'm changing over to Blogger Beta, so things might look different for a few days until I figure out how to get everything back to normal.

Don't Play the Numbers Game

An article about your "number" in the Toronto Sun that mentions 20 Times a Lady:

Don't play The Numbers game
At the end of the day, there is no point grilling lovers about their past lives
By ANN MARIE MCQUEEN, SUN MEDIA

When two young people fall for each other, it's like the elephant in the room: Who, exactly, came before they came together?

It's called The Number. And just like a birth certificate and favourite pair of underwear, every adult has one.

I hadn't thought about The Number for a while. Until last weekend, when I ran into a couple of male friends who happened to be smack-dab in the middle of a conversation about it. Now in their 20s, The Number causes them no end of trouble.

See, women in their 20s, the age of women they naturally go out with, seem to want to know their Number. These guys, who could be called players, but, in my opinion, are only the very nicest kind, told me their Number is, um, quite high. Say, above 50. This, they know, is bound to upset the girls they're dating.

Even if the girl-who-asks can get past their Number, in the natural progression of such a conversation, there is the whole matter of her Number.

The guys, the players-but-nice-players guys, say no matter what that Number might be, if they like the girl, it's too high.

COMPLETELY UNFAIR

Even if her Number is two, and they know it's perfectly normal for her to have had sex before they met, and even if they didn't raise the subject, and even if they've slept with tens of dozens of women themselves, even if they know it's completely unfair and sexist, they will obsess about it. They will hate it.

That's why they would never initiate a conversation about The Number. And they don't think women should, either.

I had to agree with them. Experience has shown me that when it comes to The Number, we should all adhere to the famous Clinton-era American military policy compromise: Don't ask, don't tell. Canadian author and sex expert Josey Vogels, who writes the online column My Messy Bedroom, agrees.

"It is a no-win situation. You don't stand anything to gain by knowing the number of people the person has slept with, unless there's something you need to know about the people they've slept with," says Vogels. "It's nobody's business."

The last time I asked a boyfriend about The Number I was treated to an afternoon of fond sexual reminiscing. It started out with a post-brunch tally and continued with a series of "oh yeahs" throughout the afternoon. By early evening, just when I thought we'd exhausted the subject, he punched the steering wheel and proclaimed: "I just remembered another one!"

By the time he'd passed 60 the next day, I didn't care how many people he'd slept with. Whatever he did before me, sexually speaking, was nothing compared to the big deal he was making out of it now. For once, I was kind of glad I'd asked about The Number, because although I didn't like what I was hearing, it wasn't because it was too high.

TALL TALE

I also realized he was lying. There was no way he'd slept with that many people, or he wouldn't have gone on about it so.

That's another reason The Number is a dumb thing to talk about: Studies show when asked, men and women tend to lie about it. It was all laid out in American Pie 2's Rule of Three, the number by which men tend to multiply, and women divide, their sex partners when telling others about them.

In 2005 polling of a 2,000-strong Knowledge Networks Panel, with an average age in the late 40s, women reported having an average of 8.6 partners, while men reported 31.9. (I'm not able to explain this 0.6 and 0.9 business.) Scientists then set out to find out how many were lying.

Turns out, there were lots: 21% of men and 15% of the women later admitted they'd lied.

Norman R. Brown, a psychologist at the University of Alberta, explains that women tend to rely on enumeration, which leads to underestimation, while men rely on rough approximation, which leads to overestimation.

We are sleeping with each other, after all.

The Number is so compelling, so confounding that author Karyn Bosnak has even written a new novel about it.

In 20 Times A Lady, the heroine wakes up after a night of drunken sex with someone she dislikes. Not only is he a wretch, but she's now reached her self-imposed limit on how many men she can sleep with. As celibacy is not an option, she proceeds to retrace her steps, sexually speaking, hoping to make it work with one of numbers one-through-20.

It's like a do-over, to the max.

DOUBLE STANDARD

If only we could live in a world like the one seen in the charming 1994 film Four Weddings And A Funeral. In it, Andie MacDowell's character matter-of-factly tallied the 33 men she'd slept with, while Hugh Grant sat listening, sweetly managing to be flummoxed and impressed at the same time.

Mostly, we don't. The old double standard, the Madonna-whore complex, the male desire Ludacris so eloquently phrased when he rapped "we want a lady in the street but a freak in the bed," is alive and well.

While it would be nice if women of all ages could tell their men their Number, and not be judged for it, and instead be appreciated for it, celebrated for it even, and vice-versa, that's just not the way life is.

And, as Vogels explains, if women in their 20s insist on asking about The Number, it has to do with more than sex. At that age, most of us still don't quite get the concept of honesty.

"Honesty is like, spill your guts about everything," says Vogels. "That's not the case. Sometimes, discretion is a lot more beneficial."

In the end, I think we learn to stop asking about his Number when we finally make peace with our own.

Because like a lot of things in life, when it comes to The Number, there's really only one person who needs to approve.

Ryan the Fishing Guy

Here's a link to an exciting blog written by a guy named Ryan who likes to fish:

my life and fishing in wny

(I have no idea who Ryan is, nor how I ended up reading his blog.)

UPDATE: Since Manic Mom found it necessary to tell Ryan the fishing guy that I may have a crush on him, I thought I'd explore the very possibility of that, seeing as though I'm in the market for a new Boy Toy. If all goes well, here's what the future could look like:




You might think I'm joking, but he's kinda cute in a dirty-boy sort of way. Look:


Stay tuned.

New Profile Photo For Jill

------------------->

Jennifer Aniston on Oprah

A friend just left a taping of Oprah. The guest was Jennifer Aniston. My friend was in a rush to get somewhere so I didn't get all the details. However, she said that Jennifer Aniston...

- is stunningly beautiful.
- denied having breast implants. (Was this a rumor? Shows you how up I am on celeb gossip.)
- confirmed that she and Vince Vaughn are still together.

UPDATE: This post has been linked to from A Socialite's Life, Just Jared, Popsugar, Glitterati, and Staralicious.

A gazillion other blogs/websites have also repeated this apparently titillating info, but they seem to be crediting the info and linking back to Just Jared. (Damn him. Stealing my thunder and hits.)

I have to laugh that I'm a source of celebrity gossip. I called my friend Naomi (who I wrote about in Save Karyn and who was the friend that went to the taping) and was like, "You're being called a celebrity insider." She's now making me call her "Deep Throat." Little does she know that I've been calling her that behind her back for years, but for a completely different reason. (I'm totally kidding; that was for Jamie.)

Oh, and to the people laughing that my friend said JA is beautiful... SHE IS BEAUTIFUL, jealous bitches!

My Niece Nora Knows Sign Language

My sister had this picture of my niece Nora printed out especially for me, and she's accusing me of teaching her sign language.

Honesty

I looovvvvve this.

Confession: Grey's Anatomy

I have a mad, mad crush on O'Malley.

New Dutch Version of Save Karyn

Look how cute the cover is of the new Dutch pocket version of Save Karyn. (Or I should say De De dollarprinses.)

Click here.

I want one! No one tells me about things like this. I have to do Internet searches and find them.

UPDATE: My agent got a box of them from my Dutch publisher the day after I wrote this.

When Parents Abuse Email

My parents are on the verge of getting their e-mail taken away. Yes, like a mother giving her toddler 'til the count of three to cease unacceptable behavior, I'm at two and three-quarters with them. Seriously, if they forward me one more joke, cartoon, chain letter, prayer, or warning about things like mall parking lots, freezing plastic bottles, and bagged lettuce (okay, fine--this one turned out to be true), I'm gonna go all 'war games' on them and send them a nasty virus that'll shut down their whole system. If they used email to actually communicate with me, I wouldn't mind the occasional joke. But they don't use it to communicate. And they don't send me the occasional joke. These emails are coming in on a daily basis.

I know, I know--just don't read the emails, you say. Delete them. Well, I tried that and it only made matters worse. My Dad actually called me on the phone and started reading them to me. Honest to God--this is how it went down:

2 days ago, via phone:

Dad: Hey, did ya get that one joke I sent?
Me (being vague): Uh... no... maybe... I'm not sure...
Dad: It was a thing by Robin Williams. He was wearing an "I Love NY" shirt that was written in Arabic, and-- well, here... let me go get it and read it to you.

After waiting for my dad to boot up the ole Commodore 64 (okay, slight exaggeration, but I do think he still has dial-up) and find the joke, I sat and listened while he read the entire thing to me from beginning to end. When he was finished:

Dad: That Robin Williams sure is funny. I can just hear him saying those things, can't you?
Me: Sure.

Thinking my dad was finished reading to me, I started to talk about something else. However, I felt like what I was saying was going in one of his ears and out the other. He was looking through his in-box again, I could tell. Suddenly, in the middle of me saying something he cut me--

Dad: Here, listen to this. This one's funny.

--off.

Needless to say, my dad read me another joke. And then another one. And then he actually described a cartoon to me in detail.

I assume I'm not the only person this has happened to. Perhaps we can start a chain letter that our parents can send to all their friends (because you know they will) telling them that if they stop forwarding jokes, cartoons, prayers, warnings, and chain letters (with this exception of this one, of course), they will receive...

- FREE MONEY from Bill Gates and Microsoft
- A FREE COOKIE RECIPE from Neiman Marcus, or
- GOOD LUCK from an angel

(\          /)
( \   __   / )
 ( \ (  ) / )
  (  /<>\  )
  ( / \/ \ )
   /      \
  (        )

What do you think?

Another Mindless IM

Mark (12:16:04 PM): hi
Karyn (12:16:19 PM): hi johnson
Mark (12:16:30 PM): i'm not johnson
Karyn (12:16:40 PM): i know
Mark (12:16:56 PM): i watched dr 90210 on the treadmill this morning..
Karyn (12:17:11 PM): oh goodie
Mark (12:37:39 PM): you are pretty
Karyn (12:37:51 PM): i know
Karyn (12:37:55 PM): you are pretty too
Mark (12:39:37 PM): thanks

And That's Why I Hate You, Sheila Mulligan

Normally I'm a pretty happy person who tries to find the good in everyone. However, sometimes I get really angry and just need to let loose. Up to this point in my life, I've hidden my anger for the most part, maybe vented to a few friends about this or that, but I've reached a point where I can't keep it in any longer. Sometimes we all need an, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore!" moment. This is my moment.

With this, I'd like to introduce something new here at Pretty in the City called...

"And That's Why I Hate You, xxx"

Before I continue, I should say that I hate people who hate. I've always thought that if you don't like someone, you should ignore them, or keep it to yourself. So much energy goes into hating--why not put that energy to something useful? Something productive?

Because sometimes hating feels good, that's why.

A certain amount of satisfaction comes along with telling someone to “f*ck off” or “go to hell”--don't you agree? Sometimes hating and expressing hate spells relief better than the best indigestion tab on the market.

Before I announce the recipient of the first ever "And That's Why I Hate You" award, I want to point out something else: I realize that word "hate" is harsh, but using it is more satisfying than using a word like "dislike." "Hate" is short, to the point, and it leaves no question as to how I really feel about you. If I hate you, I hate you. End of story.

With that, onto my first entry.

So I had a birthday. I turned 29. Again. And I got all sorts of nice birthday wishes on my MySpace page and on this blog. To show my appreciation, I wrote a long post that thanked everybody individually. The thing is, I get a lot of emails and well wishes, and I don't have time to respond to them all. I wanted to show the people who sent me well wishes that I'm thankful for them taking the time out of their busy days to do so.

Just so you know, it took me about three hours to write the post. I'm late handing in two projects that I'm working, too, yet I still took the time to write it. I wrote something short yet heartfelt about each person, and then I wrote this at the end:

Okay, so time to get sappy... Every time I'm sad or get down, I look at my blog or MySpace page, read some comments and realize how lucky I am to have the best blogging FRIENDS ever. I say "friends" because I think the word "fan" is stupid - I love ya'll as much as you hopefully love me, and I'm positive that if we all lived in the same city we'd hang out. Thank you so much for making me feel loved on a daily basis. I cannot thank you enough!

YOU ARE THE STARS IN MY SKY. XX

I meant it. The thing about Blogger and MySpace is that they've allowed me to put faces to the names of the people who read my blogs/books. Savekaryn.com was up before these things existed, so while I got a ton of emails, I never knew who was sending them. Now that I can see who's reading/commenting, I've realized that they are/were people just like me. They're the kinds of people that I'd be friends with. They're not just strangers with an email address anymore. They're people with friends, families, pets--lives.

So anyway, I got some responses to the post, all of them nice, and then I got this:

hey, I love your first book and I can't wait to get the second . . . but isn't it sort of rude what you did to your cat? and disingenuous about how you'd hang out with complete strangers if we all lived in the same city? and isn't this web site sort of like a commercial instead of the Pure and Brilliant Save Karyn? I don't know. I LOVED your book Save Karyn, but I'm a FAN who is concerned about your level of intensity with regard to showcasing your cat. And I believe that "the man [woman] is never is as great as the work" and your first book is definitely brilliant but I hate to be a bitch sort of but God this blog site feels like an opportunity for you to sell. I don't know. I read it anyway because I think you are so funny I can't stand it. I am conflicted. Your Fan, Sheila (yet another Sheila)

Sheila Mulligan, I appreciate the nice things you said about savekaryn.com, but feel that everything else you said is pretty much sh*t. You're conflicted? Well, I'm not.

I hate you, Shelia Mulligan.

First, I'd like to address my cat. He pretty much does this...


...25 hours a day. So me dressing him up and sticking sunglasses and stamps on his head is keeping him young. I rescued him from a bush when he was eight months old, and I've fed him, pet him, and cleaned up his sh*t for the past eleven years. He's got a pretty easy life and I think he can handle wearing sunglasses for five minutes, even if it is for my own amusement. Sure, he'd probably rather continue to do this...


...but too bad. I'm the mommy. I make the rules.

As for my level of intensity with regards to "showcasing" my cat, you should more concerned about my level of intensity with regards to the hate I have for you.

Now on to me being "disingenuous" about saying that I'd hang out with the people who post on this blog. You're either implying that I have a superiority complex and think I'm better than everyone else, or you're implying that the people who post here/read this blog are complete morons. You posted here and admitted to being a reader... are you a moron?

Please don't answer that.

Sheila, I'm no better than anyone else and I've never pretended to be. Most of the people who read this blog have read Save Karyn and identified with it in some way or another, meaning they identified with me, meaning I'd identify with them if we were to meet. When I read their blogs or look at their MySpace pages, I'm able to get a taste of their sense of humor, see their outlook on life, and can honestly say that they are the type of people that I'd be friends with.

Okay, let's move on. As for this website being a commercial, I have links on it to my books, which I will not apologize for. I worked hard on them and I hope people will buy them. It's how I make a living. Some of the posts I've written have to do with the new book, but that's what's going on in my life right now. This is not savekaryn.com. I'm not in debt aymore. This is a random blog about my life.

Now onto... "the man [woman] is never is as great as the work." What kind of backhanded compliment is this? You're basically saying that Save Karyn is/was great, but I'm not. Screw you. I'm human; I have flaws. I do things right; I do things wrong. I say something smart; I say something stupid. Everyone does.

I realize that telling you all this will probably cause me to lose a sale of 20 Times a Lady, but I don't really care. I can live with that. In fact, if you'd like a refund for having purchased Save Karyn, send me your address and I'll send you the $13 back. This should show you how "commercial" this site isn't. I don't use it to gain fans and sell books. I use it to write about stupid, silly, and fun things that I've been up to. It's a smorgasbord of odd diary entries, pictures, and things I do on a weekly basis. If you don't like it, don't read it.

I hate you, Shelia Mulligan, because you bury insults inside compliments, and because you insinuated that a sincere comment I made was bullsh*t. I hate people who look for the ugly in things. I hate people that assume the worst of people. When people questioned the validity of savekaryn.com and whether or not it was fake, and then asked me if I would donate to a cause like mine, I said "absolutely." I said this because I'd rather trust someone and be taken advantage of than not have faith in them from the start. Don't be jaded. Believe, trust, and hope that people's intentions are good.

Okay, so that's it for the first installment of "And That's Why I Hate You, xxx." Tune in tomorrow for...

"And That's Why I Hate You, Cable Repair Man."

Confession: Dog Breath

I secretly like the way my dog's breath smells.