Kramer’s Blog

Random thoughts from an over-thinker…

The Cat Lady, The Slutty Duck and the Big Blue Shirt…. October 26, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — justkramer @ 8:06 pm

So I was sitting in the OBGYN office yesterday waiting, and waiting, and WAITING for them to call my name and I overheard a conversation between two lovely women that was wildly amusing. They weren’t making any attempt to speak quietly so I didn’t feel bad for eavesdropping. I didn’t even have to, it’s like they were trying to include me in their conversation with how loud they were talking. Basically the 20-year-old girl was recently unemployed (fired for incompetence, no doubt) from her previous job and she wanted to get involved in event planning. She said she just got her associates degree and she thinks she’d be “like totally good at event planning because she plans super fun parties for her sorority like ALL THE TIME!”. The older single lady with 5 cats (that is an assumption based on my judgmental observations) proceeded to offer her advice and refer her to call a good friend of hers because he is “the best of the best when it comes to events”. Ironically, I know this dude and he’s definitely not “the best of the best” when it comes to events, and he’s one shady mother f*&cker. Instead of interjecting, I simply smirked and continued to play Angry Birds on my iPod and pretend like I had no idea they were even having a conversation that was so loud, the nurses down the hall could probably hear them. The cat lady proceeds to tell a story about how she hasn’t been to the OBGYN in almost 10 years, which probably means SOMETHING IS WRONG.  Then the 20-year-old skank proceeds to say she’s there go get tested for HIV and get more birth control. I know I sound REALLY judgmental, but if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…’s probably a slutty duck.

Shortly after the conversation about how they should connect via email because her cell phone got shut off until she pays her bill, a cute pregnant lady walked in to the already over-crowded waiting room. Poor thing had no idea what she was in for. As she walked up to the counter to check in, the cat lady quietly says “Oh my GAWD, she’s got to be having triplets, or twins at least!”.  Sure enough, the cute pregnant chick walks back and sits down right between slutty duck and cat lady. Cat lady asks her when she’s due and she says “next week”. At this point, anyone with half a brain would realize she’s not having twins, she’s just about to give birth at any moment. This revelation wasn’t enough for the cat lady. She continues on and says “So you’ve got to be having twins, right?”. Cute pregnant chick gives a sarcastic little chuckle and just says “NO”. Who asks something like that?! Pregnant ladies are hormonal as it is, but if you say the wrong thing to a pregnant lady at 9 months, your days are numbered. Cat lady doesn’t have enough common sense to just tell her she looks beautiful and wish her luck, she continues on about how huge she is and how she can’t believe she isn’t having twins. Seriously, if I wasn’t so close to getting 3 stars on Angry Birds, I would have told her to shut the hell up and explained that not all humans have litters of babies like her cats do. Also, if you haven’t played Angry Birds, download it asap. It makes the whole waiting room experience much more bearable. About 3 minutes later the cat lady went up to the receptionists desk to make sure they were aware that she’d been waiting for 2 hours and that’s when they called my name. I’d only been there for 45 minutes so I was super bummed I didn’t get to hear her outrage about why I got called before her.

The whole ordeal reminded me of what the people that sit around my cubicle must go through every day. Quite often I forget that cubicles are not actually walls and I proceed to have somewhat loud, obnoxious and disgusting conversations with my coworker that sits next to me. Last week we had a 20 minute, very animated conversation about how upset she was about the men’s t-shirts we had to wear for The Bite of Las Vegas. We discussed methods of shrinking the huge shirts down to a tolerable size, the option of taking them in for custom alterations, how she could accidentally spill coffee on her shirt and conveniently have a back-up outfit in the car, and (my favorite) the possibility of simply wearing our cute staff hoodie with nothing underneath for the whole day. While she considered this a very serious issue and I felt the amusement of the issue was just as important, I’m pretty sure everyone sitting within 20 feet of us wanted to drown us in gasoline and flick a match into our cubes. It wasn’t as bad as our conversations about our menstrual cycles and other bodily functions or the random conversations I strike up with anyone using the copy machine. But when our office moves into a new building in a few months, I’m pretty sure my coworkers will be negotiating with the boss on how they can be seated as far away from me as possible. I can’t say I blame them. I tried to find a picture of our awesome blue shirts for your viewing pleasure, but we pretty much kept our hoodies on all day. So here’s a picture of us at Bite of Las Vegas hiding our giant blue shirts under out hoodies….. Since I wasn’t going to wear the shirt again, I gave it to Bean Burrito and she complained about it being too big, too….. fat dogs


I’m moving my blog to May 26, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — justkramer @ 8:04 am

I won’t be posting on this wordpress site anymore, I’ve moved my blog to and it can also be viewed at – both addresses link to the same site. All of the posts on this page were transferred over as well. Thanks for reading my blog 🙂


Sneaky Farts and Poop Texts…. May 19, 2010

I texted my friend the other day just to tell her I’d pooped three times before noon because let’s face it, that’s pretty amazing. Her response was “That’s AWESOME! Congratulations”. I categorize my friends by whom I can talk about poop with and who I can’t. Don’t get me wrong, if we’re not the type of friends that can talk openly like that, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It means I probably just don’t know you quite well enough to test the waters of our friendship with a poop text yet. Give it time.  And if you’d prefer I never text you about things of that nature feel free to drop me a line and let me know. I’ll make a note of it and I’ll text you about things like the weather or the cute shoes I saw at the mall. That was a lie – if I ever text you about cute shoes at the mall please punch me in the vagina. I made the mistake of sending a poop related text to a friend a couple of weeks ago that apparently isn’t too keen on poop talk. I got a very uninterested and somewhat annoyed response. She’s now off the poop-text list, lesson learned. Everyone poops, there’s no avoiding it, there’s even a book about it. See ↓ There’s also a book about farts called “The Gas We Pass” and I own both of them. I think it’s funny that farts and poop are such taboo subjects, they’re just a part of life.

You ever witness a fart and the person farting has no idea you were there? Guy at work was in the break room pouring his coffee and did the leg-lift-fart move. Like he wanted to ease it out by adjusting his stance or something. Another co-worker was walking in and saw the whole thing go down and called him out. “Dude, did you just fart?!” …He says “Oops, guess that one snuck out on me”. SERIOUSLY?! It didn’t sneak out, you lifted your leg to let it out you moron! Of course the guy who witnessed the whole thing told one person, that person told 2 more people and within 20 minutes the entire office was laughing about the fart that snuck out. My nephew farts on my lap all the time and then he tries to deny it when I ask him why his butt stinks. “My butt don’t stink Aunt Daena”. Yes it does buddy, because there are just the two of us sitting here and I haven’t dropped any bombs in the past 3 minutes….besides, I felt the rumble on my leg.  “Seriously buddy, lay off the gas pedal”…He says “I didn’t puh-toot Aunt Daena! I’m seewious”. Whatever buddy, one day you’ll embrace your ability to clear a room with that rotten ass. For now he’s hell-bent on maintaining his innocence. What he should do is what my dog does – just lay there and let ’em rip then when someone comments on your stinky ass, just give them your best glare and smirk as you lay your head back on the ground like you own the place.

It seems there are a lot of things we’re not supposed to talk about because it’s rude or taboo. I typically fail those tests. Beating around the bush drives me bonkers. Of course I understand the difference between being rude and being honest and that there is a time and a place, I just hate conversations where you have to really watch what you say because it may fall on sensitive ears. There was a conversation in our sales meeting this morning about what “Pink Taco” means. We all know what the innuendo is but my boss corrected my coworker on the specifics when she said “Are you referring to the VAGINA?!” She said “technically, no, I’m not” so I said “It involves more of the clitoris….” It made me giggle because I love the look on people’s faces when they hear something they weren’t expecting. The guys in the room just shake their heads at us when we get out of line or say rediculous things like this. I think there’s always room for a little fun, especially in what are typically boring meetings. That’s a whole ‘nother blog in itself. Promise to remind me to blog about my thoughts on wasting time and having fun in the workplace. And I promise I’ll text you next time I poop three times before noon.


Sally Field Style and Vagina Warmer Boots…. May 10, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — justkramer @ 9:38 pm

My shirt sucks. Well, I didn’t wake up thinking my shirt sucked, I just put it on and split for work. First thing my coworker said to me as I walked in was “I LOVE your shirt! It may be my favorite shirt you’ve ever worn!” Caught me off guard, but I’ll take it. A few minutes later another guy at work walks by and says “Cool shirt”, pauses for a few seconds and follows up with “for a grandma!”. Whatever. He can suck it. Meanwhile, coworker #1 is telling me not to get a big head about my super cute shirt. About an hour later my boss walks by and says “Wow, I love your shirt!”. She follows up with a story about how her grandma used to stitch shirts just like it, or some shit. Later in the day someone else comments on it as they walk by me in the hall saying something about me being a cowgirl. I don’t even remember exactly what the hell they said but I’m pretty sure coworker #1 laughed at it.

So then all the sudden I’m all self-conscious because I’m on my way to see a client and I look like a total douche cowgirl and my client is going to think I’m an idiot wearing a shirt their grandma could have stitched. I figured it was no big deal and maybe my coworkers were just giving me a hard time because lets face it, I probably had it coming. I tend to dish it out a lot. Every time my coworker, Laura, wears her super high boots to work I ask her if they’re keeping her vagina warm. And when Mike wears a nice tie to work I ask him if his mommy dressed him. Whenever Dave wears a shirt that has even the tiniest bit of shiny on it I comment on his “fancy shiny shirt” or I ask him if he’s going to the club after work. So yeah, I’ve had it coming.

I got home from work and changed into jeans to take my mom to dinner for a belated Mother’s Day celebration. I didn’t change my shirt. Got to the restaurant and my 5 year old nephew sits down next to me and comes to give me a hug but he stops and pinches my sleeve and says “Aunt Daena, yo’ shirt looks like an old lady shirt”. I was tempted to tell him to save his insults for when he learns to pronounce is “R”s but I just laughed and told him he can suck it. That was a lie, I just laughed and told him I borrowed it from his mom. I just took a snapshot of this sucky shirt for your viewing pleasure…. I paid $7 for this shirt at the Gap last month and I was REALLY proud of the super good deal, but I’ve since reconsidered its value.

I am not one of those girls that plans what she’s going to wear the night before. I literally don’t know what I’m going to wear until I walk into the closet to get dressed in the morning. UNLESS I know I’m going to have an encounter with a cute boy that day, then I might give it some thought the night before. So basically just on the weekends (no offense, coworkers).

Since I’m probably never going to wear this shirt ever again I’ve been thinking of good uses for it. ….

1. I could cut it up into tiny pieces and make drapes for a 1950’s doll house.

2. Re-gift it. To my grandma.

3. Dry the dishes with it.

4. Save it for costume parties.

5. Give it to coworker #1 that seemed to genuinely like it.

6. Sell it on eBay or just trade it for a pack of gum.

7. See if Sally Field wants a spare ……8. Wear it to work everyday for the next 2 weeks just to show ’em.

9. Make my dog wear it. Actually, that’s a great idea……She was pretty annoyed with me, obviously. I woke her fat ass up to put this shirt on her and she is clearly humiliated. She can get over it. She wore it for 2 minutes, I had it on all day. Is it really THAT bad? No. But you can really psych yourself into thinking anything if you dwell on it long enough. Good rule of thumb – don’t over think it and don’t make things into something they’re not. And don’t succumb to peer pressure. I can’t believe I almost let a guy who’s mommy dresses him for work make me self-conscious. Next time I’ll consult Sally Field. One girl’s grandma cowgirl shirt is another girl’s vagina warmer boots.


I Had Effed Up Hair But Now I Have This Awesome Knife… March 25, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — justkramer @ 10:04 pm

I was staring at this smart car today and I was 100% positive that I could flip it over all by myself. Maybe not like a 180 so it was upside down, but I could definitely flip it on its side. I might need some insane shot of adrenaline, but probably just a good stretch first. You could do it too, I have faith in you. I picture all of us standing in some parking lot taking turns flipping this smart car over and over and over and we CHEER, scream and applaud each other with each flip of the teeny tiny smart car. I’m standing on top of the dented, mangled, scratched up lil’ car with my hands on my hips and a big cheesy grin on my face and a feeling of accomplishment. Can you picture it? 

Ok, back to reality. I’ll never get to flip over a car, but I can dream about it. I never really want to try, either, because I’d be real sad if I tried to flip it and I couldn’t even make it budge. I’d hate to ruin my fantasy. When I was a kid I would do stuff like that all the time. I thought everything looked SO EASY and I would always say “let me try” when my sisters were having a hard time with something or if I saw another kid do some cool trick on their skateboard. Yes, I said skateboard. I rode my skateboard everyday from age 6 to 10 and I was pretty good FOR A GIRL. But I would see some kid do a kick flip and get like 3 feet off the ground and I’d try it and end up with my face in the concrete and my board 5 feet in the air. Not as easy as it looked. I was riding across an intersection on my skateboard and two boys in front of me both jumped right up on to the curb and kept riding. I reached the curb and tried to ollie onto the sidewalk and the nose of my board hit the curb and it shot back into the street and a car ran over it. I felt like such a dumbass. Having a rediculous haircut didn’t help how stupid I looked walking home with a broken skateboard under my arm. Another time when I was really little…like 6 years old, I was riding my bike around the yard at my moms work.  There was this big pile of gravel in the middle of an empty lot and it was about 4 feet high. To me it didn’t look like a pile of gravel, it looked like the most awesome bike jump I’d ever seen. I circled around and started peddling as fast as I could and imagined how far I’d launch in the air when I hit this ramp….I realized very quickly that it wasn’t ACTUALLY a ramp. I hit the pile of gravel and my front tire sunk into the rocks and I went flying over the handle bars. I landed head first into the gravel and both of my hands dug into the concrete as I fell to the ground. I had scratches all over my face and my mom had to pick rocks out of my palms for days. I’m sure my effed up haircut made that whole encounter look even more pathetic, too.  If you haven’t figured it out, I had effed up hair for pretty much my entire childhood. 

I don’t know why I thought things looked so easy. I’d see something and think “I can do that”. Sadly, 99% of the time I couldn’t and I’d get hurt trying. But I do remember vividly the first time I saw something and thought “I can do that” and I actually COULD do it was the best feeling ever. I saw some guy drawing a picture of these tigers at the Zoo. He had charcoals or something and was sketching them perfectly. We each got to pick out a souvenir as we left the zoo and I bought this book about tigers. I got home and immediately got some paper and a pencil and started trying to figure out how to draw the picture of the tiger on the cover. I did it and it turned out pretty good. I figured out how to hold the pencil and how hard to press for different shading so I decided to draw it again, but this time I asked my mom if I could get my own sketch book to draw it in. So we went and got me a book with blank paper and I started drawing away. It made me feel so satisfied and happy to see something done and be able to do it myself. I just spent about a half hour looking for my old sketch book so I could take a picture of the tiger I drew but I couldn’t find it. BUT….I did find this awesome knife. I don’t know where it came from but it was in my “memorabilia box” and I feel like I just found a hidden treasure. It’s not going back, it’s staying with me from now on because HOW AWESOME IS THIS KNIFE?! 

I will cutchoo.


Hang gliding looks really easy. I bet it isn’t. The Dog Whisperer makes training a dog look easy. That guy must be part labrador because I tried his shit and my dog gives me the middle finger. It’s not easy. I still always say “let me try” when I see someone struggling to figure something out. Some people call me competitive but that’s not exactly the case. I don’t like competing with other people and I actually don’t like beating other people at things. I like challenging myself in as many ways as I can and seeing if I can surpass my own expectations and reach my own goals regardless of what other people can do. Some people call that selfish. And to that I say, you people are dumb and I could probably kick your ass at drawing pictures of tigers.


There’s No Point In Losing Sleep Over Dog Sh*t February 22, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — justkramer @ 7:41 pm

A friend of mine recently asked me some questions about her ex-boyfriend. “Who’s he dating, do they look happy, did he say anything about me, does it seem like he misses me…etc”. I just don’t get that. Actually, I get the wondering part but I don’t get the ACTUALLY wanting answers part. I think back to the first breakup I had and all of the torturous wondering that goes on. I also remember the guy I broke up with saying “Why would you want to know anything I’m doing?! I NEVER want to know anything about your life, who you’re dating or anything that you’re doing because I’m better off being in the dark – what I don’t know can’t hurt me”. That made NO sense to me when I was 19 years old. It wasn’t until my second big breakup at age 26 that it finally made sense to me. Maybe it’s something that happens with age, or experience or just enough pain but saying “what I don’t know can’t hurt me” and ACTUALLY believing it are two entirely different things. The second time around I didn’t want to know anything at all. Of course eventually I found out about a new girlfriend, an engagement, marriage etc, but I never sought out details of his life after the day we broke up. Sometimes having mutual friends makes that nearly impossible but I figured it was better to protect myself from any potential hurt feelings. I also didn’t want him to know anything about my life because there was nothing that he NEEDED to know and things like that just delay the healing process. But HOW DO I EXPLAIN THAT TO MY FRIEND WHO IS HURTING?! You can’t convince someone to let go or to remain in the dark because you know they’ll be better off for it, they have to be in a position to truly believe it and want to know as little as possible.

Made me think of how this can really apply to everyday life. Like dog shit. I got this new puppy and her name is Bean Burrito but we call her Beanie and she’s like a shit machine. Actually, not so much anymore, but for the first week all she did was shit and eat. It was actually quite amazing. I wasn’t really sleeping because I’d get up twice a night to take her outside and wait for her to poop then wait another 20 minutes while she cried in her crate to fall back asleep. I’m not complaining because I chose to get this little shit machine and I do love her like crazy….BUT, at some point I had reached my limit. Actually, that point came on Friday night. I figured that if I didn’t hear her crying then I wouldn’t feel compelled to get up every time and take her outside. So in an effort to get a good nights sleep and start better pooping habits for Beanie I made sure she took a dump before bed and put her downstairs in her crate for the night where I couldn’t hear her. What I don’t know won’t hurt me, ya know? I’m sure she cried a couple times in the night but I didn’t hear her and when I went down to let her out in the morning there was just one little poop in her crate. Next night there was no poop. Same thing applies to Beanie and people food. I will never feed her people food because what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Except In-n-Out Burger…one day she will be given her very own burger but that’s different. Maybe from now on I’ll use the expression “There’s no point in losing sleep over dog shit”.

Why do we allow ourselves to be in positions that we know will hurt us? How come people ask the questions that they know they don’t want to hear the answer to? Maybe its human nature to be curious and sometimes we need answers to find closure. Maybe some people would rather feel sad than feel nothing at all. Woahhh….that sounded really emo. I hope none of you feel sad. I hope your biggest problems have to do with dog poop and lack of sleep. Here’s a picture of the shit machine for your amusement……

As far as I’m concerned, this motto also applies to how many calories are in a cupcake, the amount of brain cells that are killed with each shot of Goldschlager, how much money I’ve lost in my lifetime betting on sports, mean things that people might say about me and how much money I could be saving on my car insurance by switching to Geico.  Because there’s no point in losing sleep over dog shit. Amen.


The Funniest Joker and a Valentine’s Toker… January 22, 2010

Everyone is up in arms about all this Jay Leno – Conan O’Brien chaos. I think the whole situation is rediculous but I do have an official position on the issue. I’m “Team Conan”, as they say. For years I’ve been saying that no one can make me laugh like Conan O’Brien. The guy is just SILLY and his humor is so random. I mean, he’s got a masturbating bear and a rottweiler puppet that insults people with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. That’s comedy at it’s finest. I think I gave my thoughts on this in my blog a couple months ago about the mustache fights. Well, since then some things have changed. I still have strong opinions about Conan and that fact that he is hands down the funnier of the two, but there’s a new star player in the ballpark of my mind. It’s Ms. Chelsea Handler. When her show started on E! I didn’t give her much credit, mostly because I’d never heard of her. I thought “who’s this smartass nobody with her own show out of nowhere”? Not until recently have I started watching her show on a regular basis and I love her more and more everyday. This bitch is so quick-witted and sarcastic that she can go toe to toe with anyone that comes her way. One false move and she’ll rip you apart before you even knew what happened. I ENVY her comedic talent and her clever sarcasm. I officially want to be Chelsea Handler when I grow up.

I was trying to tell my mom how funny I thought Chelsea Handler was last night and she had no idea who I was talking about. I had to drop some knowledge on dat ass. Not really. I just steered the conversation in another direction because I didn’t want her to feel old for not knowing what the hell I was talking about. I took her to a movie and we saw “It’s Complicated” with Meryl Streep and Alec Baldwin. I figured it was a safe movie to see with my mom and a friend of mine told me it was hilarious. Well, she was right. It was HILARIOUS. I’ve always thought Alec Baldwin was brilliant but I’ve never liked Meryl Streep until now. I had a smile on my face through the entire movie but mostly because my mom kept laughing hysterically. I also learned that my mom likes to do the movie play-by-play, which I thought was so cute. She’d say “Oh look Daena, he’s gonna fall off that step!” or “Oh my gosh they’re going to get caught smoking that joint!”. Awwww moms, I love ya. She laughed SO HARD at the scene when they were all high that I started to wonder if my moms is a closet toker. Totally kidding, my mom is an angel but as we were walking out I said “ya know mama, I’ve never smoked weed but that movie made me REALLY want to try it!” True story. She just giggled. Hmmmmm…

There was a preview for that movie called “Valentine’s Day” and it has like 17 huge names in it. That movie is going to have to gross like 824 Billion in its first week to break even from all the high-priced actors cast in it. But it looked really funny and like it covered every aspect of Valentine’s Day, not just the cheesy romantic perspective. You know what bugs me? When people try to act like they don’t care and say “every day should be Valentine’s Day” or “I don’t know why people make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day, it’s such a lame holiday”. You know who says those things…PEOPLE IN A RELATIONSHIP!!! If every day should be like Valentine’s Day then should we celebrate your birth every day? Should we drink beer and wear green every day? NO! That’s what makes it fun, doing something MORE or something out of the ordinary on Valentine’s Day for someone special or someone you love! Does your husband bring you long stem roses or make a pointed attempt at some creative romantic gesture to make you swoon on a daily basis!? If he does that shit everyday then you’ve hit the jackpot and I understand why you would have no reason to care about Valentine’s Day. I just hate hearing women that have someone to make them feel special and spend Valentine’s Day with say that  it’s a dumb holiday. Count your freaking blessings and ENJOY this excuse to be showered with love and affection for an extra day and do the same for your man. You also get the single chicks who try to act like they don’t care about Valentine’s Day because “it’s a commercialized holiday with no real meaning”. Whatever it takes to make ya feel better, honey. You know damn well that if you had a man you’d be soaking up all the holiday hype and loving every minute of it. Bitches is crazy, man. The moral of the story is, make the MOST of Valentine’s Day if you have someone to spend it with, don’t just complain about how lame it is. You’re lucky to have someone who is always by your side, so use Valentine’s Day as an extra opportunity to thank them for that. If you’re single, shower someone with love even if you’re not in a relationship. Sometimes giving love feels even better than receiving love. You’ll feel great and the holiday hopefully won’t bring you down just because you’re single.

I think I’ll shower my mama with love on Valentine’s Day. She deserves to feel lots of love because she’s always dishing it out. Maybe I’ll take her to see “Valentine’s Day” at the theater and we can get high together before the movie. Mom, if you’re reading this, I’m totally kidding. I don’t smoke the weeeeeed, I swear. And also mom, don’t tell me if you do read this because it’s just better if I go on thinking that you don’t even know I have a blog.

ps. nobody tell my moms I have a blog.