Thursday, June 30, 2011

Hawaii: Here we come!

Honeymoon approacheth!  Among the many awesome things about going on a vacation to Hawaii, one important thing I've decided to focus on is that I can finally listen to Hawaiian music without feeling angry.  When I was a bookslave at B&N, IZ was on our in-store play and, while others found the music relaxing, I found myself enraged.

"Oooooohh-OOOHHHH, callllm down Kate..."
"Stop telling me to calm down, music!" I would scream.  "I'm working!"
"But, Kaaaaaaate," the music would croon.  "Relaaaxxx...pau hana..."
"NO, music!  It is NOT 'pau hana.'  It's DURING...hana.  I need to inventory all these books and--"
"Aw, c'mon Kate.  Time for a frappucino/nancy drew break."

And then I would be completely zoned out.  Much like Reggae music (except that I actively HATE Reggae), Hawaiian music is telling me to "relax" at times when I can't!  Like when I'm working, or when I only have a half hour to shop at Target and I walk by one of those CD sample stands.  It just completely disrupts my productivity.
It also causes awkward situations.  For example, I had been explaining to my dear friend K-Mo how overly relaxing and work-inappropriate the Hawaiian CD was while on a break at B&N and she loudly (as is her nature) responded that it was awful--meaning awful to WORK to.  Of course, due to K-Mo's powerful carrying voice and being a magnet for awkward situations, a Pacific Islander woman was standing a few aisles away and pounced on us, saying that we were attacking her culture.  I tried to explain and even did a little skit with the PDT pretending to be swept away by the music but it was too late.  We had somehow been racially insensitive and there was nothing to do but crawl off to Tandoori Oven with our proverbial tail between our legs.
But now I will actually be relaxed!  I will be sipping Mai Thais at a beach cafe working on my sequel to Leviathan, CA (that's right--it's in the works!) or on a new short story for Suspense Magazine.  Oh yeah, and Ben will be there too ;) (I love you, Ben!)  Yay for relaxing and yay for honeymoon!!!

Freeeedooooooom!

As many of you could see on my Facebook profile, I am free at last!  I had my last radiation treatment yesterday and can now look forward to semi-frequent follow-ups...which doesn't sound awesome but it is!  The last day of radiation was actually kind of amazing.  They hung a "congratulations" banner and let me ring a bell!  I even got some applause.  Maybe I have some Stockholm Syndrome but I'm actually going to miss the nurses, valet guys and radiation techs.
I've been a little burned, tired, and crunchy of late so I apologize for my blog laziness.  More to come :) 

Monday, June 20, 2011

Burning Bras: It's not just for radical feminists anymore

So I've been given some very special doctor's orders--"go bra-less."  I asked them how I would be received in public with my small but noticeable breasts and their own personal weather system.  They gave me some good advice: "Who cares?"  So next time you see a bra-less girl, don't judge her.  She could  be a slut, or Sue Ellen Mischke.  Or she could have cancer.  Are you really willing to take that risk?
                                                                  Bra-less and proud!
                                                                                        Kate

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Stop Torturing Me, Google Images!


As many of you know, I am now in my sixth week of radiation.  The home stretch.  The good news is I have less than 2 weeks left.  The bad news is those cumulative side effects they mentioned are definitely rearing their ugly heads.  Not only am I exhausted, but I've got some strange burns that resemble what might happen if I went to Raging Waters (there's some kind of hole in the ozone right above Raging Waters--you all know it) for the day and put 100 spf sunblock on EVERY part of my body but one. 

So, because I seek the council of Dr. Internet from time to time--just to make sure this is all normal--I look up "radiation treatment burns" on Google images.  And then I am bombarded with scary images!  If Google images is telling the truth, I will soon look like I've been stuck at Raging Waters covered in nuclear waste for 12 DAYS IN THE SUN.  Noooooo!

Then I remember the time I looked up "red bump under arm" in Google images to see if this thing I had was normal and it came up with a barrage of images of genital and rectal warts (note to audience--if you're ever thinking of casually looking up "ass warts" on Google images to see what comes up--DON'T).  They only show the most horrific disgusting pictures.  So, if you look up "melanoma" you will NOT simply see a weird-looking mole.  You will see triple necrotising fasciitis of the face.  Looking up a slightly infected cut?  Quadruple staph-infected necrotising fasciitis.  Possibly of the groin.
If you don't believe me, read this public service announcement:
.............
Did you know that up to 83% of people who attempted to search for a Google image of something they found on their butt will either have a massive coronary from shock or spend up to $1000 in unnecessary medical bills?  True story.
You may be home one night, in front of your laptop, glass of Pinot Grigio in one hand thinking: "I wonder who else has this funky skin discoloration?"  You might even feel curious enough to type "funky skin discoloration" into a Google images search box.  What harm could it possibly do?
Well, I'm here to tell you--there are CONSEQUENCES to your image search.  
Don't Google that thing on your butt.




The more you know (doo doo DOO DOOOOOO!)

WHERE ARE MY SUPERPOWERS (Angrily pounds fists)?!

Kurt Wagner (Earth-616)
 from marvel.wikia.com 

Seriously, guys.  I've got the burns.  I saw X-Men first class.  So when do I get to go out and kill Nazis with my mind?  Because you know what, guys?  Nazis suck.  They really do.  The least this stupid cancer could do is give me some telekiaportawhatever ability so I could make like a mutant Garfield and move all remaining Nazis to Abu Dhabi in boxes with holes in it.  No, wait.  No holes.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

"The army wants ME?!" My email reply to the US army...

"THERE'S WEAK. THEN THERE'S KATE WEAK."

Dear "Army,"
I received your kind recruitment email and I'm extremely flattered. I must say, you DO have a lot to offer. $20,000 PLUS a paycheck every month?! That's crazy talk! And those perks sound great--I mean, shopping discounts? You really know how to entice a girl! I was also impressed by the full range medical and dental coverage offered

I think I have to be honest with you, though. 

With me as one of your "active duty officers," get ready to pay through the NOSE on that medical. I'll need an asthma specialist and physical therapy for my patella subluxation syndrome. Oh yeah, and some therapy. I'll definitely need some of that. Also, I can't serve in any place with bright sun, because bright sun causes these super extreme migraines. That's okay, right? 

Hmmm...let's see, what else? 

I can't really be in "stressful" situations because I have this ulcer and they say stress caused it. Oh, and is it possible to be stationed someplace without any moist air OR dry air? And without any pollen? Because my allergies could REALLY be awkward in a battle-type situation. Sneezing isn't exactly "stealth," is it? Also, it's been said that I may not be the most graceful person. I tend to trip a lot, break things (weapons probably wouldn't be an exception), spill things...you get the idea.

Well, I think that's it.

Oh, wait! Also, I have this sort of tourettes hearing, and I tend to hear things really wrong. So, if someone says "fire," I could POSSIBLY think they're saying something completely different, like "Clint Eastwood is sexy." At that point, I would probably turn and say "What are you TALKING about; he's all leathery!" And then we'd be dead. 
So, this is all just FYI. I wish I could tell you I was joking about any of this but I'm actually not. I might be one of the most ridiculous people ever. Think less USO-show Bob Hope and more 'Hot Lips Barton" Bob Hope. 

You still want me? 

Fondly,
Kate 

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Everybody Sucks: an ABC Adventure (Update #3)

Felice Fashionista makes fun of your clothes.
She thinks your new sweater from Target just blows.
Every dress that she owns is original Gucci
but you’re fine with your look and, besides, she’s a hoochie.


ALL TEXT: COPYRIGHT KATE ALESSANDRI 2011

Friday, June 3, 2011

I'm here, I hate chatting, get used to it!

From olddollpatterns.com

I can't take it anymore, guys.  I can't sit here and pretend that I like chatting anymore.  Don't get me wrong--I like TALKING.  Like, about stuff.  With friends and loved ones.
But I estimate that I waste approximately 40 minutes each day being held hostage in chatting scenarios.  Scenarios where the sheer volume of chatting could be limited to simply saying hello but turns into:
Me: "Hi!"
Them: "Hi, how are you?"
Me: "Fine, thanks, and you?"
Them: "Well, you know I'm okay except for this [problem].  [Problem problem problem!]"
Me: "That sucks."
Them: "Well, you have no idea!  [Problem problem problem.]  But you know what they say...[insert cliche about life here].  So I'm doing fine.
Me: "Well, that's great.  See you la..."
Them: "Because, you see [repeats problem a third time] is not a good situation to be in.  Have you ever had [problem]?"
Me: "No" (backing away in the hopes that this will signal my need to get back to what I was doing)
Them: "Well, I hope you never have [problem problem problem!] because let me tell you, it's not fun.
Me: "Okay"
Them: "It's not fun."
Me: "I got it."
Them: "You know, when you [prob--"
Me: "I'm sorry, I have to go; my brain has exploded and my ear canals are quickly filling with blood."
Them: "Oh, okay.  Well, let's chat later!"
And then like 8 minutes have passed!
I don't know about the rest of people out there, but I like to do my WORK at WORK and my CHATTING drunk at bars so that I can keep up the CHATTING!  
Am I alone in thinking that economy of words is a lost art?  Chatting is making me exhausted!  And I can't be exhausted because I have CANCER [see previous post #2].
Awwwkkkwarrrrd.

Top 10 Best Things about Having Cancer

Okay, so everything about having cancer sucks hard.  But here's a list of a few "bright sides..."
10-- Everyone is way nicer to you.  And they do this cool sympathetic head tilt when they ask: "How aaare you?"
9--You have a really strong motivator to get healthy--works much better than a personal trainer.
8--It doesn't seem so bad when you lose your keys.  I mean, it's still annoying, but not life-ending.
7--You go into a room and just lay down, but at the end of it people tell you how brave you are.  Just for laying down!  Well...and having invisible death rays blasted at you, but still!
6--Free valet parking!  No seriously!
5--No one judges you in oncology for reading battered old copies of Sweet valley High, and even if they did...
4--...you don't really care what people think anymore.  You've got more important things to deal with.
3--You get more prayers/kind thoughts than a bus-full of blind orphans.  Everyone's got your back.
2--You have the ability to make ANY situation totally awkward by saying "I have CANCER."
1--Three words: license to nap

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

I Mega-Loathe You All 2: Electric Boogaloo

copyright NBC Seinfeld 1989
I must start by apologizing that it has been so long since my last blog post.  You see, along with being very tired, I managed to forget that I had cancer.  Strangely enough, it's very easy to do if you imagine that you're getting some kind of spa laser treatment whenever you go in for radiation. I admit I'm a bit reluctant to even start again, as forcibly NOT remembering I have cancer is kind of a nice place to be, let me tell you.
Up until this past week, I have looked healthier than ever (and even this past weekend at a wedding I was able to work some magic with an under-eye concealer).  However, now that I am starting to LOOK as tired as I feel, I can totally bust out the ultimate comeback: "I have CANCER, bittcheessss!"
Of course, I haven't been given the opportunity to launch said comeback because everyone's been super-nice to me.  Much like George Costanza, I sit ready and waiting for my moment, fantasizing about my opportunity to make people feel guilty.
Scenario 1: "Sorry, officer, my CANCER necessitates me flipping illegal U's"
Every time I see a police car, I think they are going to pull me over.  Even if I am hovering around the speed limit, I believe they will find a reason.  In my comeback fantasy, the cop pulls me over and asks some condescending question like "And where are YOU going in such a hurry?" to which I can reply "Um, CANCER TREATMENT," and then even if they do write me a ticket they will feel like a total dick.
Scenario 2: "What's your secret?"
This one has totally come close to happening.  When I've run into people who don't know my situation but know me and notice that I've lost weight.  I get that look like "What the hell did YOU do to lose weight when it's so hard for everyone else?"  
--"Um, get CANCER!  It's totally the best diet plan!  In fact, I think I'm going to put out a new dieting book called 'Being told you have cancer: the ultimate appetite killer!'"
Or I'll get the old: "You're so lucky you like exercising and all those health foods!  I would be slimmer too if I liked kale!"  Guess what?  Kale ISN'T my favorite food.  Pizza is.  But they tell you you have to cut fat, eat greens and work out like Halle Berry to stave off cancer recurrance, so I do it.  Like...to LIVE. 
Scenario 3: "You're young and healthy--you wouldn't know"
This is by far the most annoying.  People who assume that youth ALWAYS equals health.  In this scenario, however, at least I can say "Actually, while I am young, I also have CANCER, bitcheeessss."  
Now, when I go to the deep water aerobics class, those older ladies won't DARE shun me!  When I tried the class before, I was shamed into quitting by dirty looks from women over 60 who looked at me like "Why do YOU need soothing water yoga?  You're young--what do you have to be stressed about?"
--"Well, I have cancer AND I am currently going through faux-menopause thanks to the pills to get rid of my cancer.  Will you let me in your class now, Edna?  WILL YOU?!!!  I take my pills three at a time JUST LIKE YOU."
Alrighty, that's all for now.  I have about eight ideas for new posts so worry not--I am back in black.
Kate out.