Shameless Pluggin

No folks, I haven’t been kidnapped and tortured by a deranged lunatic, but rather simply caught up in my own world of writing a novel. Taking the bull by the balls, I’m fearlessly entering a contest to have my work ripped to shreds by faceless agents. Oh, the excitement and anticipation! My mother always knew I was a masochist. 

If you’re interested in learning more of this fabulous opportunity, then I encourage you to stop reading this wonderfully written blog and rush over to the Guide to Literary Agents Blog – – now! 

And fear not, your brazen hussy will resume the writing of her tantalizing tales very soon. You won’t want to miss a single, juicy word.

The Best Part of Me is Covered Up, Baby


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Ah, the days of being sick; how I won’t miss them. Watching paint dry is true, genuine entertainment and waking yourself with your own snores is less amusing than what others may think. But 6 boxes of tissue and 24 very long and hot showers later (I’ll atone for my environmental destruction), I’ve successfully won the battle of the boogers.

Dating conundrums happen to the best of us and recently (pre-cold war) I’ve had the pleasure of dating two entirely different types of men. However not long ago I found myself in a compromising situation and it left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Insert obvious joke here and go ahead and have a giggle, I’ll wait a moment for you to refocus. Better now? Good, let me explain.

Say it with me, "Just Say NO! to ..."

I have a penchant for handy men. Something about a way a man can use tools, especially his caulking gun, that really makes me want to head to into my dank, cramped bathroom and rip apart the tub surround. Of course, not all handymen are created equal. Take a look at Hollywood’s stereotypical plumber and you’ll see that a few of their cracks need to be filled.

But then there are those plumbers that know how to use that snake of theirs and unclog my drains. Check out these two Roto Rooters/Ghost Hunters. I bet they know how get to the root of the problem and exercise my demons.

Who you gonna call?

“The Best Part of Me is Covered Up, Baby.”

While shopping at my local home improvement store, I asked a boyishly handsome plumber for advice about a stopped up drain – and this time it’s not euphemism. After being given some advice as to which drain cleaner would work best, I stayed to flirt a bit more and was handsomely rewarded with an invitation to dinner, which I naturally accepted.

His promptness surprised me and so did his choice of vehicle – a lifted, newer Dodge Ram pickup truck that required a hand up from my date in order to reach the cab without flashing God and country my underoo’s; no easy task in a skirt and heels. No Brittney moments for me.

The first date was a bit unexpected, but still fun, none the less. Bowling, complete with alley food and beverage (his idea of dinner), was a great way to get to know each other. How serious does your date take themselves? How competitive are they? Do they share fries or have a food phobia? Standing just this side of the line, you can play out your next move in more ways than one. Over all, I’d say it’s a strike.

The second date was at our local aquarium and though things were going swimmingly between us, there was simply something that was just “off.” You know what I mean, there isn’t one thing that you can label, there’s a quirk or some feeling that gets beneath your skin and you’re unable to name it. Despite this little red flag, we returned to his place for a little nookie and little it was.

Stripping down to our skivvies while his hands were assisting me with mine, he whispered huskily into my ear, “The best part of me is covered up, baby.” With eager anticipation, I greedily sought his best part. When he stated that his “best part” was covered up, I assumed he meant what was hidden in underroos, not by the amount of body hair it’d take an entire landscaping crew to trim his bush just to find his stump.

Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to an activity entitled Manscaping. Learn it. Incorporate it into your routine. Your future loves will thank you for it.

It took a few libido killing minutes to find Waldo, but once found the promise of promiscuity began…and ended within one minute. This is difficult to write as I don’t want to come across as being bitter, cruel, a bitch, whichever term of choice is yours, but it’s my duty to present the facts, regardless of how short they are.

Hit and Run

Size is always a topic at hand between men and women and as for this woman it’s all in how you use it. He was quite literally the size of my thumb (and at this moment, I wish I were an abnormally sized woman with big hands; would’ve at least had a bit more pleasure) and his technique was much like a jack rabbits. With a satisfied sigh, he rolled over and stated that he needed to get going on some paperwork. And with that, my Little Prince ceremoniously threw me my clothes. Needless to say, in this fairy tale, there was only going to be one happy ending.

Clearly there would be no third date. Well not unless I get the Ouija board out and ask a few family members if hell froze over. The thought of not kissing, among other things, this toad had crossed my mind upon the revelation of his “best part,” but the fact that he was very clean (apartment, included) and the only hang up was his exceptional ability to grow hair south of his border. Is it rude to check out the equipment before take off? Do we fake sudden cramps and the onslaught of our period? Or are we simply doomed to enjoy what little ride there is once we’re strapped in and fake an orgasm?

In a world of princes and frogs, how much do we fake?

I leave you with that question to ponder and I hope you will take a moment to leave me your thoughts as I’d very much like to hear them. For now, though, I’m going to purchase stock in Kleenex.

Debating Pro Choice


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Recently on Freshly Pressed there was a blog featured regarding snarky answers to some rather snarky questions on why a woman has nine children. You may have read this, but if not, I’ll provide you with the link.

As a blogger who writes about the perils, trials, and tribulations regarding the vast dating world, child rearing isn’t exactly my forte. However, raising children is an end goal of dating, though marriage or commitment bound usually comes first. This got me thinking about the majority of dates I have been on, the questions that were asked and answered, and the varied views of Singletons.

The Duggars

With the population of our planet effectively exceeding 7 billion people this past October – with no signs of slowing – love, or is that lust?, is very clearly in the air. Men and women all throughout the planet create families adding to the global population and the cycle continues.

But what about our planet’s sustainability? Is love the cause of our planets demise?

Unless you live as a hermit in a third world country, you’re most likely well aware of the global crisis happening as I type this. Our dependency on oil is equivalent to that of a hardened crack addict. Hold on there, this isn’t a lecture, so just stay with me and I promise it won’t be painful.

Water - A Necessity of Life

Bypassing the obviousness of oil, there’s something else that hasn’t quite caught your eye yet. It glistens off your lover’s bare skin, trickling down along the curves, right to that sweet spot you so love. I am, of course, referring to water.

Water Water Every Where Nor Any Drop to Drink

With a planet that’s 97% water, one would think a shortage would be impossible. If only the impossible were the probable. Only 3% of the water on Earth is drinkable and as our biological clocks tick louder and louder, we drown out the sound of the dripping tap and focus on energy upon our own selfish desires.

Am I suggesting we forgo having children? No.

However, I am concerned about the legacy we, as a global society, will leave our children. It is quite possible that our children will grow to fight in world wars over control of the last remaining reservoirs, or perhaps it will be our grandchildren that grow to fight these wars if action isn’t taken. For someone whose motto is make love, not war, this is more of libido killer than seeing your grandmother in a g-string attempting a pole dance with her cigarette clamped between her lips, but that’s another blog.

Deciding I need some equivalent to the little blue pill, I whipped out my little black book and let my fingers do the dialing and asked a few people about what they think of having a big family in today’s times.

Burden of Life - 19 Kids and Counting?

First call was to an old flame who has recently married his true love. John* and Bobbi* have discussed having children at length; weighing all the natural pros and cons, but adding a new issue to the board – societal responsibility. John argues that having more than one child is socially irresponsible due to the environmental and economical stability. Bobbi argues that raising responsible children we will change the planets fate.

Another call, this time to a favorite Singleton, answered my question as thus, “Look, Kate, everyone knows that the planet is f*cked, but no one seems to want to do anything about it. It is up to each of us to do the right thing, and hope for the best.”

Three very different viewpoints and a martini later, I sat across the table from my date of the night and asked him what he thought. He told me his opinions and enlightened me on his mates, as well. It seems that when it comes to heavy weighted issues, there are as many thoughts and opinions as there are ways to produce a child.

Though the global crisis isn’t still in its infancy, our societal views are. The question for me is will there be enough time for us to grow?

Please take a moment to share with me your thoughts on children, the environment, and any ideas/opinions you have regarding this subject.

*Names have been changed per their request.

V-Day – a Battle between Saints and Sinners


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A vicious battle of the sexes ensues each year of varied proportions. I am, of course, referring to the day most dreaded by Singletons the world over – Valentine’s Day. Cupid’s Arrows have caused enough damage to both sides of the battle field to bring a shared unity, but sadly, a bloodbath emanates as each involved party fires their own arrows of resentment/disappointment, loneliness, and desperation.

What are we to do then?

Convert. One of the fourteen saints appointed by the Catholic Church, Saint Valentine, whose name is derived from the Latin word, Valentinus, meaning “worthy, strong, and powerful,” was supposedly born on April 16 and died February 14. However, so little is known of this Saint. Two 18th Century English antiquarians suggested that the Catholic Church simply created St. Valentine in order to usurp the Pagan holiday, Lupercalia, a purifying festival said to increase health and fertility held February 13 through the 15th.

Am I suggesting a mass conversion to Paganism? No.

But a mass conversion is in order if we are to survive future holidays with our sanity, and relationships, intact. There are obviously two camps in which any man or woman belongs – Singleton or Non-Singleton.

For the Singleton’s, Valentine’s Day is indeed an arrow through the heart, but rather than piercing it with its love dipped tip, it rips a hole straight through, leaving a gashing wound in its wake, which is much harder to mend.

However in this day and age, Singleton’s often forget about the most important and long standing relationship – the one with them. Cliché I realize, but all too often we women focus our energies on others so that we sacrifice our own needs; and though love is all about sacrifice, isn’t it about time we show ourselves some much needed love? There is nothing wrong with courting yourself for a night complete with chocolate and Jane Austen. And at the end of the night you can even make it to home base without thinking worse of yourself in the morning.

For those of you Non-Singletons, Cupid’s Pheromone Laden Arrow will have your heart running ragged before the night is through, if you’re not careful. For women, this is one of the most anticipated, and most dreaded, night of the year, and men, you’ve got your work cut out for you. This is where knowing your date’s interests comes into play and if you’re clueless, there’s still help for you (but you must make an effort to learn if you wish to remain with her).

There are plenty of ideas floating through the Webisphere that you should have no problem planning your evening. Location and activities can be, depending on your date, rather important. But what is a guy to do if your date is unimpressed by your best laid plans? Here are a few simple things anyone can do to help rescue an evening or even simply help it along.

Regardless of setting, looking into your date’s eyes and truly listening as she speaks will speak volumes. Do your best to not interrupt and be sure to silence your cell. At appropriate intervals, ask open ended questions to show her you are actively listening. Stuck for questions? Inquire politely about her friends and family while holding her had from across the table. If not in a restaurant, make certain there is appropriate physical contact being made; holding hands, a protective arm across her shoulders, guide her through a door by placing your hand upon the small of her back. Just make certain that you are being a gentleman and not attempting to cop a feel otherwise you’ll walk away with the wrong look of a lover’s kiss. Remember tonight is all about her and you will be rewarded.

As the day of battle quickly approaches, each camp prepares for war in various forms in anticipation of what lies ahead. However, this is a case of the grass is always greener on the other side. Resentment and disappointment abound in situations such as these and it is in these moments when we must all set down our arrows and embrace love in all its many forms. Rather than casting envious looks toward your neighbor who’s preparing for a night out or coveting your coworkers plans for a night in with Pride and Prejudice and chocolate and wine for one, drink in the true meaning of Valentine’s Day by celebrating your own strong, worthiness and toast to the health of those around you.


A Kiss is Just a Kiss


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Or is it?

Recently I witnessed the union between two people in a beautiful ceremony, filled with love and sealed with a kiss. As the minister proclaimed their union, they sealed the deal with the traditional kiss and floated back down the aisle, drunk on love.

The Bridesmaid's bouquet looking almost virginal, just like the bridesmaids

For many Singletons this is the ultimate goal – to wear white, fill a hall with gorgeous flowers, music, to have every Singleton eye jealously upon your every move. To become a Smug Married.

Years ago it was believed that a woman lost her virginity on her wedding night; or as my grandmother put it, tame the one eyed snake. In present day, for many brides they’ve already tamed numerous snakes and the only virginal thing left is which Karma Sutra position they haven’t yet attempted.

The Dress

With marriage comes commitment and with commitment comes security and repetition. This bride, along with every other on the planet, will then theoretically never mount any other studs. No flirting, no kissing, no touching, no playing, no nookie with another cowboy other than her betrothed. This is what society deems to be acceptable and any variation is considered to be adultery or at the very least trotting down the path there of.

But what if the rules were bent between not a recently married woman and a man, but rather recently married woman and another woman?

According to Psychology Today, roughly 15% of all women are bi-sexual or lesbian. This is up by 13% from most of human history.

Angelina Jolie

Over the years, many female artists such as Angelina Jolie, Drew Barrymore, Katy Perry, Megan Fox, Lindsay Lohan, Lady Gaga, Annie Lennox, and Anna Paquin have openly expressed their sexual orientation and are proud of it.

Drew Barrymore

And let’s not forget that Madonna’s kissed Britney Spears, Nicki however you say her last name, Christina Aguilera, and many more, but frankly I’m just too lazy to write them all in. Their careers, along with many men and women’s libido, saw a surge following their proclamations and society was left with one question.

Madonna showing Christina Aguilera some love.

Is it a new fad as some have said or is there more to it than ratings?

There are three main groups of women that are broken down into age brackets that describe the sexual desire by age. Think of it as a confusing map through the hormonal minefield we call Womanhood.

First you have your very hormonally imbalanced teenagers. Having narrowly

Young Megan Fox knows how to grab guys attention.

survived my teens, I find it unfathomable that any teen, regardless of gender, can identify what he or she wants. Let’s face it, with the amount of hormones rushing through your veins, it’s like being given a strong cocktail on an empty stomach and the hangover is hell. But that aside, it seems that young girls are semi aware of what guys like and they naturally use this to their advantage. This would suggest, then, that these girls aren’t truly interested in the fairer sex, unless a cute guy is watching. There are obviously exceptions and this is a generalization.

Once we finicky females have matured past puberty, our tastes mature and this is where some of the fun begins. Our confidence in ourselves has evolved and it seems that between the ages of 20 and 35, we begin to explore our sexuality and all that the world has to offer, just for the hell of it. This isn’t to say that we are reckless, but rather we are open to new experiences and frankly, really enjoy what our sex has to offer. It’s like our college chemistry class only better. 

Any woman over the age of 35, Singleton or Singleton Enough, is deemed a Cougar and they’re on the prowl, but not for boy toys. No, these women often have children, perhaps teenage daughters, have been married and/or divorced, and the illusion and hope of the Fairy Tale Love has more than worn off. Reality has set its hooks deep within them and they’ve seen all the moves that snake can make. The concept that another woman could offer them not just sexual fulfillment but emotional as well is tempting. And while many may not become straight lesbians, many will frolic along the Bi-Sexual Beach. This is a trend that has become quite popular with the baby boomers as their children have all grown and they’re left to face the reality of an unfulfilling marriage. That’s right, your momma’s pinch hitting for the other team; could explain the perma-grin and why she’s asking you about Brazilian’s.

While at the reception, many women of all ages ate, drank, and were Mary. However it was one in particular that stole my attention away from the appalling speech the bridesmaid gave (not her fault as it was clear she had no time to write one, let alone rehearse, prior to being thrust into this uncomfortable position).

Mary was a friend of mine from days gone by and throughout the day, we kept passing by one another, stopping for a quick chat and kiss on the cheek. It wasn’t until after the speeches were made that we had an opportunity for a proper chat. Leaning against the railing that overlooked the grounds, we talked about the wedding and discussed hers, just short of a year earlier.

Refilling our glasses, she linked her arm through mine and we sauntered over to the corner of the building where large trees gave the illusion of privacy and offered a change in view. Setting her glass down, she turned toward me, complementing my dress before kissing me full on the lips. Her kiss was sweet, but far from innocent. Stunned, I stood there like an idiot holding a wine glass and thought about the mixture of emotions and thoughts that ran through my mind. After a moment, she stepped back and said she’d been thinking of doing that all evening. Then she picked up her glass and walked back to her husband. Walking away she left me contemplating many things, including trying the Mascato she was drinking. Alcohol induced girl on girl action. Is there any other way?

The rest of the evening was downright uneventful comparatively speaking and I found myself comparing my kiss goodnight with the one Mary and I shared. What would her husband think if he had caught us in the act, so to speak? Is this considered infidelity? Or just drunken disorderly? Is she bi-curious or bi-sexual? What else would have happened if there weren’t so many people nearby? And what sort of lipstick does she wear as it never once came off (and it should’ve of)?

Throughout the history of mankind, lines have been drawn in the sand and society has made it clear that they should never be crossed. Religious leaders have turned those lines into bullet proof glass and smite those who dare cross them. Evolution has slowly awakened our primal instincts and if celebrity trends are any indication, the ties that have bound our hands are weakening as more women seek out their deepest desires. Clearly, Annie Lennox was right – sisters truly are doing it for themselves.

Snow-mageddon 2012 Seattle


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You’re right, I owe you a blog about the wedding I went to and I won’t disappoint, I’ll kiss and tell. Today, though, I wanted to report from the 10” snow covered trenches.

If you’ve been oblivious to the news much as I usually am, then you may be surprised to learn that Seattle and surrounding areas have been hit by some serious snow. Most of the country would yawn and reply with, “So what?” But those of you who haven’t come to worship our java infused city aren’t privy to The Big Deal.

Our city streets are hilly, to say the least, and no matter where across Western Washington you may go you’ll be sure to encounter these slopes. No big deal on normal days, but this week has been anything but normal.

Forecasters announced the arrival of snow and like any good Washingtonian, we blew them off. That is until the first flakes arrived. Sunday was spent watching the wonder of winter quietly pile up and Monday proved to be about the same.

With the threat of the real storm blowing in Tuesday evening and into Wednesday, we decided to stave off cabin fever in favor for a walk in the woods, which isn’t hard to do in Washington. We’re not called the Evergreen State for nothing. 

Awoke to a blanket of white Wednesday and considered myself lucky to have power, despite its best effort to leave me. But my charming personality and wicked ways convinced it stay by my side, unlike my poor 190,000 powerless neighbors.

Cabin fever struck, but not I, rather my dog, who, unlike the electricity, had grown tired of movies, books, and endless pacing. 

He Can, and Usually Does, Eat Anything

My Little Acrobat

The Cure for Cabin Fever

As darkness fell so did a few tree limbs in our yard, unsettling the dogs and my nerves. Morning arrived with the house still unscathed, but the driveway was blocked with half of an old pine tree. Cracks, booms, and thuds could be heard in a 360 degree radius, providing a site to behold as older, well established trees came crashing down throughout our neighborhood, as well as our yard. Three plum trees in our backyard buckled under the pressures, as did a cherry tree in the front, and the before mentioned pine tree.

Making Leaving Challenging

With the reported over 700 accidents in five days across Western Washington, we braved the arctic blast and insane drivers, and headed out of doors in search of carnage. And carnage we found. Power lines down competed for attention with randomly breaking and falling branches littering the already slushy and iced over roadways. Steering clear of the freeways which happened to be closed due to the before mentioned downed trees (25 along Hwy 18 closing it off from beginning to end), we stuck to around town, but did venture along Where Heroes Rest St. toward Tahoma National Cemetery to pay our respects to the men and women who served our country.

State Troopers Blocking Off Highway 18 On Ramp

Where Heroes Rest

State of Emergency has been declared and one death has already been reported. – state of emergency

But not all is doom in gloom as seen here…

It will take a bit of time to clean up from the aftermath of this slow motion storm and while the temperatures are still low, spirits remain high. Washingtonians have had many labels thrust upon them and while many could be argued to be true, one thing we’re not noted for is our ability to look on the bright side. Because sometimes when it rains, it snows.

For more information and photos, here are the links to our local news stations:

UPDATE JAN. 20, 2012: There’s been an article written and published in the LA Times, “Snow wimps: Seattle is shut down by first real snow of the season,”  from a journalist who’s remarks regarding Seattle have certainly lit our fires. The irony of it, is she lives on Bainbridge Island, a well to do city on the outskirts of Seattle. Here is the link to her article, as well as my response below:

Ms. Murphy, after reviewing your profile on the LA Times site, I’ve come away shaking my head. How did someone like you, who once had the ability to write well written, informed, non-biased articles turn out a piece that is filthy rich in author’s voice/opinion? Your obvious hatred of Seattle is palatable and that leads me to my next question – why then, do you desecrate our city with your presence? While I realize we are a bit “clueless,” I would like to remind you that the reason why we are such “clueless wimps,” as you called us (may I remind you that you, too, are a resident of Bainbridge Island and therefore a “clueless wimp” as well), is because of the mass of Californians who have infested our great state. I realize the frenzy that you have created is pleasing you no end, however it is obvious from your profile photo that you have drank your writing ability away and that is the real crime here. Please consider this your written invitation to permanently leave Washington State and never return.

Great Expectations


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First dates, much like losing your virginity (presuming you’re female), are pretty bad. There’s a great build up, much anticipation and excitement, followed by what can only be described as The Letdown.

Mr. Right greets you and you’re off for a night full of promise. However dinner is harder to choke down than your revulsion to his mother fixation. While listening to yet another dull story of his recent underwear shopping trip with Mother, you fixate on what is wrong with you and why you lack the courage to feign cramps and go watch The Colbert Report. Or perhaps he’s taken you to see the new “it” film of the month, which leaves you little time to get to know one another and by the end of the date, you’re standing on the corner of Am I Really That Desperate and Should I Fake Being A Lesbian.

But what about the first dates when you’re simply not sure it is a date?

Having started the divorce proceedings Maggie was newly single and ready to throw herself into the depths of dating hell when she met Mark, a perpetually single man who claimed he just hadn’t found his Ms. Right.

Working in the same office, there was no denying the mutual attraction, so when Mark asked if she wanted to meet up the next day, Maggie immediately agreed, failing to ask pertinent questions that all women should ask.

Few minutes early, Maggie met Mark at the arranged place and time and waited. And waited. And waited a bit more. After 30 minutes, she was getting ready to pack it in when she noticed Mark sauntering over with little more than a hello and half-hearted apology. Maggie, a little pissed off, decided to make a fresh start and see where the day took them.

They ran errands throughout the city, stopping by a little coffee shop before finishing off the afternoon at a car stereo store where he asked her opinion on a stereo for his truck. By this time Maggie was definitely getting the Friend Vibe and felt foolish for assuming Mark had asked her out.

Back at the car park, Maggie and Mark lingered a bit. Without any prior indication, Mark suddenly wrapped his arms around Maggie and kissed her. In a sex crazed daze, she returned his kiss and thought about taking this back to her place. Mark had told her that he’d wanted to do that all day, but felt the timing wasn’t right. Maggie was soaring high again after several months of neglect from her soon to be ex-husband.

Their relationship lasted only a few regrettable months, going down faster than a hooker when the Navy came to town. But she learned an important lesson when she returned to Play the Field – it’s OK to clarify what direction Mr. Maybe is heading before stepping out onto the turf.

Sometimes in this wonderful world of Dating Dilemma’s we get lost in the rules of the game and fail to notice the flashing Time Out signs. Desperation, occasionally our perfume of choice, is even overpowering to our own senses, inhibiting our judgment as if we’ve been on a three-day bender. Taking the time to cover all the bases before jumping in feet first into a relationship can save us from the mother of all hangovers and a regret that won’t go away without a shot of penicillin. Re-virginization is a frightening thing, and I, too, have faced it more than once. But with the help of Big Blue and other members of my goody drawer, I’m able to stay focused on the task at hand – finding Mr. Right while occasionally dating Mr. Right Now.