Celebrities

Ain’t no party like a link-up party ‘cuz a link-up party don’t stop!

Ain’t no party like a link-up party ‘cuz a link-up party don’t stop! 9

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I woke up this morning with a serious case of blogger’s block. I’m talking major — I nearly threw in the towel by posting a gratuitous amount of unflattering dog photos, but I think we can all agree this blog has far too many of those already.

Thankfully, the blog gods have blessed me with some last-minute inspiration. Holly over at Where We Can Live Like Jack And Sally is hosting a link-up! And the funniest people get gift cards to Starbies! Here’s hoping these “finish the sentence” prompts will get my creative juices flowing…and land me a couple of free #PSLs in the process.

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My happy place… is Whole Foods. I freaking love that place.

Whole Foods Minnesota

There are seventeen flavors of raw, organic kombucha! Hipster dads with ironic facial hair! Cute little chalkboards at every turn! Deodorant that costs more than my shoes but claims it won’t give me cancer!

But most important? There are cheese samples. Mountains and mountains of glorious cheese samples. (And yes…I’m totally the girl who goes back for seconds fourths.)

 

Whatever happened to… Australian Toaster Biscuits?

biscuits

 

Those things were my jam, you guys! One day I got the brilliant idea to order some via Amazon, only to learn they had been forever discontinued. WTF, Oroweat?!

 

So what if I…. lied about my weight on my driver’s license. I can pass for 125 pounds…right?

Right??

 

E! needs a reality show about… Me!!! It would be just like Keeping up with the Kardashians only with less hair and more cellulite!

(To be clear, the ‘less hair’ thing was in reference to hair on my head. Those girls are Armenian…they’ve got me schooled in the body hair department.)

 

My go-to fast food meal is… a McDonald’s vanilla ice cream cone. And yes…ice cream can be a meal. (Same goes for cheese samples.)

 

You might not know that I… was the fattest baby born in the state of Alaska during July 1984. Nine pounds, ten ounces, yo!

And yes…I still brag about this.

Frequently.

 

The hottest quarterback in the NFL is… no clue. The only “sports” I follow are Us Weekly’s ‘Who Wore it Better’ section, and Toddlers and Tiaras.

 

If I could… have one supernatural power, it would be the ability to magically undo one regrettable action at the end of each day. Yesterday’s take back? Mistakenly wearing see-through pants to CrossFit on squats day. Whoopsie!

 

My personality is awesome because… I’m an open book. Got ten minutes to spare so I can detail every horrible aspect of my most recent UTI? Have a seat!

(On second thought…maybe that makes my personality less awesome…?)

 

Twerking is…. no longer cool now that my dad knows what it means. (Here’s hoping I never have to see him actually attempt it.)

 

I think it’s super gross when… you accidentally sit in a stranger’s puke in a Las Vegas taxi cab.

 

Someone needs to tell Miley Cyrus…. to get together with Amanda Bynes and film a reality show fueled by pleather bikinis and daddy issues. Now that’s what E! needs to put on the air…

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Let me guess…you also are completely devastated at the discontinuation of Australian Toaster Biscuits and are dying to blog about it? Head on over to Holly’s blog and join the link up! Let’s use this as a platform to send Orowheat a message. (Or, you know…just grow our blogs or whatever.)

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VMAgggghhhh make it stop!

VMAgggghhhh make it stop! 2

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For the first time in my adult existence, I willingly skipped the MTV Video Music Awards. “I’m too old for that sort of thing!” I told myself while smugly watching the fourth episode of House of Cards and sipping my organic herbal tea. I was in bed by ten, pretentiously reading a book about disease prevention through diet while drifting away into my Sunday evening slumber.

Apparently, this is what twenty-nine looks like…?

When I awoke this morning, I immediately regretted my “mature” decision to skip the VMAs. Angry declarations towards Miley Cyrus ran rampant through Internetland. Words like ‘raunchy’, ‘vulgar’ and ‘twerking’ were used abundantly. It appeared there were teddy bears involved? And a manicured foam hand?

Why in the name of Maclemore did I voluntary miss such a spectacle in order to read how eating bread can give me Lupus?! I had blatantly ignored the platinum, diamond encrusted rule of YOLO. Shame on me.

Thank goodness MTV had me covered with on-demand clips of the entire show. I clicked on over to Miley’s performance video as fast as I could and pressed play. While her interpretation of ‘We Can’t Stop’ was tamer than I originally anticipated–all of the internet hype had me expecting something far worse–I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at a teddy bear (or a foam hand) the same way again.

miley2

Yet what perplexes me most is how Miley’s out of control twerkage has seemed to distract viewers from the real travesty at hand.

Robin Thicke’s unsightly leisure suit and terribly off-key singing.

You guys…please tell me I wasn’t the only one that noticed this? Homeboy was flat. Seriously flat. Like…flatter than those non-existent butt cheeks shaking violently in front of him. I don’t care how distracting Miss Cyrus’ dairy aire is — a VMA nominated artist should at least be able to carry a tune.

Alan must have been so ashamed.

"And I thought Kirk Cameron was my most embarassing child..."

“And I thought Kirk Cameron was my most embarrassing child…”

And don’t even get me started on his fashion choices.

2013 MTV Video Music Awards - Show

 

I mean…seriously? Who wears that?

stripes

Whatever. At least I can sing on-key.*

And don’t have to claim Kirk Cameron as a sitcom brother.

(Although I certainly wouldn’t mind a homeless Leonardo DiCaprio staying at my house from time to time…)

*******

*Most of the time

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Katrina Taylor, backup dancer

Katrina Taylor, backup dancer 4

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I’m sorry.

I left you high and dry for the better part of two days, without so much as an ‘Out of the Bloffice‘ courtesy message.

You probably assumed I had died from an accidental cheesecake overdose.

Or worse, via unintentional strangulation while attempting to create a fitness dance routine involving a jump rope.

(To cancel out all the cheesecake, obviously.)

In reality, I was floating on the lake and shaking my booty to Beyoncé. I had taken time off from work, which somehow also translated into taking time off from blogging, working out, watching my sugar intake, and if I’m being 100 percent honest, showering.

The good news? I’ve since bathed, completed a ‘let’s get back on track’ workout and have made it nearly 12 hours without a single bite of cheesecake.

The really good news? I totally wore my bodysuit to the Beyoncé concert, despite sporting a pair of legs that were (and still are) covered in a disturbing amount of bruises.

beyonce-outfits

Wore a pair of nylons UNDER the fishnets…totally did the trick.

It should probably be mentioned that I went out to a really nice dinner prior to the concert clad in this get-up.

At the ripe old hour of six o’ clock.

This meant we were dining with dozens of seniors.

(I think they assumed I was a call girl of some sort.)

Once we arrived at the concert, my ensemble was only slightly less out-of-place. I learned the hard way that unlike a Lady Gaga concert, people don’t typically show up to Beyoncé dressed in costume. Essentially, I was surrounded by thousands of young women dressed in perfectly acceptable shorts and sundresses who kept staring at me as if I were a celebrity.

But not a good celebrity…like, an Amanda Bynes train wreck celebrity.

Other than resembling a nineties child star experiencing a mental breakdown, there were only two major problems with the outfit:

1. It made using the restroom really difficult as the entire suit — and both pairs of nylons — had to be completely removed. It took me back to the days of struggling with overalls and snap body suits in my elementary school bathroom. Straps in the toilet water? Happened at least once a week.

2. The bodysuit was significantly skimpier than I initially realized. Blame it on the fact that I don’t have any full-length mirrors set up in the new house yet, but it wasn’t until I arrived at the Excel Energy Center that I realized how ‘breezy’ my backside felt. (There’s a reason all these photos are front facing.) Scott was the first one to notice this detail.

“Katrina. You look ridiculous. And your butt is totally hanging out.” he scoffed as we pulled up to the venue.

“Oh, calm down Scott.” I miffed. “I have two pairs of nylons on! And a decorative lace flap that hangs down in the back!”

“Yeah…a decorative lace flap that’s completely see through and needs to be at least six inches longer! I guarantee you no one else is dressed up. You’re going to look even crazier than you actually are.”

“Umm…that was kind of the goal.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, I’d say you succeeded with flying colors. You look like you’re about to perform a scandalous tap dance.”

“Scott…tell me the truth. Does it look that bad?”

“Yes.”

“Should I change into something else?”

“Are you kidding!?” he exclaimed, “You paid money for that, right?”

“Right.” I admitted sheepishly.

“And you ordered it just for the concert, correct?”

I nodded, being careful not to make eye contact.

“Than you’d better believe you are wearing that bodysuit. We’re getting our money’s worth!”

This may be one of the few instances where Scott’s frugal ways actually benefited my fashion escapades. I walked into the auditorium, glad I had his support.

“Don’t get sexually harassed!” he cried out from the car window.

I could tell he really meant it.

*****

While there were no incidents of harassment, I was greeted with plenty of confused stares, cell phone photos and giggles throughout the night. It felt like one of those dreams where you accidentally go naked in public, just with a cheap pleather bodysuit from a teenage fashion website, which might actually be worse than public nudity.

Yet there was a silver lining.

Eight different people thought I was one of Beyoncé’s backup dancers.

Who ironically, just so happened to perform a scandalous tap dance.

Why does Scott always have to be right?

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My body’s too bruisealicious for you, babe

My body’s too bruisealicious for you, babe 8

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Tomorrow, Beyoncé comes to ‘Sota. And I will be there, getting down with my inappropriate bodysuit wearin’ self.

Normally, this would thrill me more than a Louis Vuitton handbag filled with Double Stuff Oreos and Chlelada.

Unfortunately, I’ve encountered a giant snag in my fishnet stockings. Remember the army of mosquitos that ate my lower half for dinner on Monday night? While I’m happy to report that the bug bites have finally stopped itching, it grieves me to announce that each bite is slowly morphing into a large, darkly colored bruise. Essentially, my legs look like I’m in an abusive relationship — or possibly a roller derby league. I’ve always bruised easily, but this is a little ridiculous.

So much for my bodysuit + fishnets + heels ensemble...

So much for my bodysuit + fishnets + heels ensemble…

Being that I don’t have a backup outfit planned, I’ll be strutting my bruised, fishnet-clad gams all around the Mrs. Carter World Tour in spite of my hematomas. I’ve since decided to wear a giant flower as a hat in hopes that it will draw people’s eyes upward.

I’m also hoping for really dim lighting.

In the mean time, I’m counting on the fact that some of you have fabulous tips for how to camouflage my massive discolorations. Leg makeup? Double nylons? Preparation-H? At this point, I’ll try just about anything.

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