Let us begin.

There comes a day in every young Katelyn’s life when she decides that the best thing she can do, is take something good in her life and completely ruin it. In this case, the thing to ruin was my hair.

I figured since my hair was so dark, almost black, that I would lighten it with a hair bleaching kit. My logic was as follows.

It took me two boxes and two hours to finish ‘stripping’ my hair so I could dye it again a nice light brown.  Sure, it looked a bit strange when I washed it, sure some hair came out, and sure it had a weird greenish tinge to it, but I figured it was just the light. So I went and blow dried it, sure to find out what the color would truly look like.

And that’s when I saw it.

Yes guys. I had dyed it about four different colors. Black, blonde at some roots, red at others and GREEN everywhere else. Terrifying and completely inappropriate for my workplace. And so, in a logical aged-27-so-I’m-mature-now way, I acted in the most appropriate manner.

I cried.

I cried so much, so long, and so loudly at my husband that he felt compelled to try and help me.

Our anniversary was in a week and so he decided he would get me a present even though we’d agreed against presents that year. He decided it was a good idea to buy me a chance to get my hair professionally done.  And I jumped at that opportunity.

I ran into the nearest reputable hair dying location and literally prostrated myself in front of the old woman behind the chair, clutching my hair in dramatic horror and begging her help.

She shook her head at my foolishness and spent the next three hours trying to restore my brittle, wheat-like hair back to a manageable lustre. And to her credit, the hairdresser was AMAZING. If you are ever in the lower mainland and need to get your hair done well – message me!

I was in love with my hair. And I mean in love. I Instagram-ed the s*** out of that stuff.  Like people care. But people also Instagram photos of their food and their sneakers by leaves and stuff, so I felt like it fit right in.  Not enough snails on Instagram however… and I love snails.

I digress.

The months passed and so one day I found my beautiful new auburn locks were…suddenly lacking. And there was major root-age. MAJOR. It’s like every day is fine and then I wake up and BAM, I AM A NINETY YEAR OLD WOMAN with so many gray hairs its depressing. Grossness. Turning 27 has not been kind. And I thought that this was the best possible solution.

TO DYE IT AGAIN MYSELF. YES, THAT WAS THE FIRST THOUGHT I HAD.  Somewhere my husband was cringing and not knowing why. Below is an accurate depiction of what that would look like.

Bottom line:

Hopefully the next post will be more timely! I hope you enjoyed the latest installment!

After extensive research on the topic of hipsters, I have come up with the following realization

Hipsters are just people trying to act like grandparents.

You’re confused? That’s okay, I’ve made a few photos to further illustrate my point.

1. Hipsters like old-people over-sized glasses and scarves

Hipster Joe

Grandma Pearl

2. Hipsters have apartments similar to that of old people

Hipster Joe’s apartment

Great Uncle Bob’s place

3.  Knitting. So. Much. Knitting. Plus complaining about stuff that doesn’t matter.

Hipster Jane

Grandma Martha

4. Reading Material.

5. Being ‘nostalgic’ for the good old day.

 Hipster Jane

Grandpa Melvin

So you know what would REALLY be the best idea that would make everyone happy? If Hipsters started hanging out with their poor relatives stuck in nursing homes. Bingo, I just saved the world another song about how life sucks because someone stole someone’s skinny jeans.

Things that I foresee becoming hipster-popular in the next little bit

* Carrying caramels in your purse/pockets

* Keeping handkerchief’s up the arm of your sweater for surprise sneeze attacks

* Stamp/Train/Plate collections

So, contrary to what this blog may say – I do not get drunk that often. But because I drink so seldom, when I do drink it hits me hard.

So my husband and I go camping and away on trips with this other couple at least once a year. We are similar travelers and we always have an awesome time! We decided on Portland for the May long weekend so we could shop and I could buy BOOKS AT POWELL’S BOOKS THE BEST BOOKSTORE ON EARTH. It is literally my heaven on earth. I could go on, but they don’t pay me to, so I won’t.

Needless to say this is the usual comparison between normal me and vacation me.

Note the dishevelled-ness.

So we had had a great time so far. And while me and my girl went shopping the husbands went to watch some sport at a bar. I met up with them, waiting for the other wife to meet me to go shopping for my friend’s lingerie party. Lingerie means Victoria’s Secret! Okay, not always but this bride-to-be really wanted it!

So while I am waiting, the bartender asks me if I want anything.

He was so nice!  He understood that I was on a budget and made me a cheap drink of his own creation. And he made me a mixture that (I found out later) had a TON of vodka in in. Like, it was a tall glass and more than half was vodka. I didn’t know that, and I was thirsty, so I may have downed the whole thing…

By the time my girlfriend showed up, I was pretty dizzy and happy.

Then this other guy behind the bar goes, “Hey this group just left a full bottle of champagne behind, you guys want some?”

HECK YES WE DID!

So after drinking that, and grabbing my husband’s credit card because I couldn’t find my wallet, I was on my way!

See how gooned I am even before drinking the free champagne? I look so happy and glazed.

Needless to say, by the time we rolled around to Victoria’s Secret, I was not completely composed. Turns out when I drink I get silly and also really pissed off at little things.

So I finally found what I wanted and went up to pay… only to see that they needed ID. Which I didn’t have.

This point I’m pretty sure I gave her a sloppy hug, nearly crying at her generosity.

So I got the lingerie and everyone enjoyed my story. And to the friend who shopped with me and put up with me walking into displays, and bumping into people while walking around with underpants and garters – you’re the best!

And to end…. another shot of my sloppy self on the way to Victoria’s Secret.

Have a great weekend!

Do it. All the cool kids are. If you do follow, you’ll be enjoying extra tidbits NOT found on the blog -  like me wearing a sleep apnea mask! HOW ARE YOU NOT EXCITED AND FOLLOWING ME?!?!?

You can also make suggestions on future topics for me to write on, see what side projects I have going on – and can see behind the scenes sketches and etc that I feel are not blog-worthy but ARE facebook worthy. Scintillating, no?

KATELYN’S UPSETTING CHILDHOOD!!

So I have two younger brothers. This first story deals with the middle brother. Matthew.

He is a cool kid, but when I first heard about him…. I was not impressed.

You see as the only child so far, I was living the dream. ALL THE ATTENTION and all the love I could take. So I was fairly self -centered. So when my Mom went into labor, I had other things that required more attention.

All I knew was that my Mom was making weird noises and my dad was leading her to the hospital, leaving me with my aunt and uncle. So a few days I got to go to the hospital and see what the fuss was about.I was less than enthused.

(actual photo of event included at the end of this post.)

Then he came home from the hospital and I was even less than enthused.

Yes. That is a direct quote from my childhood.

And the mild annoyances didn’t stop there. Not only was Matthew loud, sobby, smelly and fragile he also took ALL the attention in the entire world. Plus everything revolved around this little eating and pooping machine. I mean, he was a baby but EVERYTHING he did people had to comment on. And no matter how cute I tried to be in comparison – everything fell short.

(He’s a baby. WHAT IS HE GOING TO DO WITH CANDY!?!?!).

And then one day, my four year old self snapped.

A child can only be pushed so far.

And so one day my Mom heard a thump come from Matt’s room, accompanied by a loud wail. She rushed to see what was going on. What greeted her would cause horror for years to come.

Yes. I had crawled into Matt’s cradle. Pushed him out. Burrowed into his blankets, grabbed his bottle and WAITED for my Mom to discover me so that I could inform her in the most chilling, Children of the Corn voice: “I‘m the baby now.”

I fear for my future children.

As promised actual photo from the event

“Interesting… So can we leave him here?“

The chosen topic? People who chat in bathroom stalls when the other person is peeing. This is a cause very close to my heart so I was eager to talk about it.

This is me in a public bathroom stall at the mall and the following story is true.

This is an annoying person entering the bathroom and choosing from an array of empty stalls – the one CLOSEST to the nearest living person. Why did she do it? I have no idea. Maybe she wasn’t hugged enough as a child. Perhaps she feared ghosts in the stalls. I cannot answer why a rational person would want to do that.

This woman then goes on to commit the worse faux pas of all time: Talking to a stranger (me) about NOTHING of purpose. Not – “Hey, there’s a fire in the mall – we should head out!” while she is voiding her bowels. Gross.

Because I am terminally polite in situations when my pants are around my ankles, I reluctantly gave in and chatted until I was able to flush, wash my hands and run from my tin prison.

Which brings me to the fact that I need to use this blog as a public service announcement to important issues.  A platform for what’s REALLY important. Hence- the following.

Please remember this the next time you think someone wants to hear about the weather while they’re trying to whiz.

In the twelfth grade, I went to the petstore as I did every week, just for fun. It was on this fateful perusal however that my eyes fell on the loneliest creature I had ever seen.

A bearded dragon – with half his tail missing. Now, a logical person goes: “Hey, this guy is missing half a tail and looks pissed. Something tells me he’s a hard ass.” but a Katelyn person goes, “Awwwwwwwwwww…..what a sad, bedraggled creature! No one to love it! BUT I WILL!”

And so I phoned my father in Kamloops and BEGGED him to buy this lizard for me. I asked if it could be my graduation present. And of course my dad suffering from divorced-parent-guilt folded immediately.Little did he know he would rue the day.

And so my father came down and bought him for me. He bought the terrarium and the crickets (which, not surprisingly I could not feed him out of fear of actually touching them.) and the heat lamp and we set up a nice little desert climate for my favorite pal.But, little did I know that my lizard – now named the ever creative: “Larry” was carrying a big chip on his shoulder.

So one day when I invited some girlfriends over to meet my latest addition, I didn’t count on him immediately hating me. I thought he would find it in his reptilian heart to love the large, loud creature that had saved him from his previous imprisonment.

Turns out I was wrong.

For as I was showing him off, pointing to him in the terrarium, Larry decided that he was going to show who was boss once and for all.

He bit me. HARD. The little bastard bit me so hard I started bleeding everywhere.

When the screaming had subsided and my friends had left, I contemplated my fate with this lizard. He needed to love me. I needed to make him love me. Oh, I tried. For about six months I tried everything to get that little jerk to love me. But he never did. Everytime I came near him his little beard puffed up and he tried to bite me.

And one night, after he had broken out of his terrarium and bit my ankle, something became quite apparent. He hated me and he was going to kill me. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but some day.

And so I did what any rational, sane person would do.

That’s right. I pawned him off on my brother, expecting Matt to grow weary as well. Except he didn’t. How do I know? Because he and the damn lizards became BEST FRIENDS! The stupid thing sleeps on his pillow at night!

Lesson learned. I should not own lizards.

In case you’re wondering how I decide on a winner, I do it completely impartially. Truly. Let me show you the process.

So Brett – congrats! Please e-mail me at missoddbutnice@gmail.com so I can get your address and mail you some awesome Odd but Nice stuff! And if you’re awesome and send me a photo of you over the moon with your winnings, you could be featured!

Thank you to everyone who commented and continues to support this blog – its such a great way to relieve stress and share my humor all over the globe! This marks my 120th post!!! And over 23,000 hits! Thanks so much for the continued belief that I am marginally funny guys!

A day to celebrate Mother’s, mother’s in law, stepmothers, friends who are mother’s, grandmothers who are mothers, aunts who are mothers… Okay, you get the idea. Mother’s come in all shapes and sizes and races and creeds and ages and relations. But most of all, Mother’s are those people who celebrate and love you for all you are and all you want to be.

But this blog entry focuses on one special Mother – MINE! My mother is not only one of the funniest people alive, she is also the most supportive, the most loving and the unique mother out there. Below highlights just a few of the things she does that makes her dear to me because if I had to make a cartoon for every way she is awesome – I would never be done.

Reasons why I love my Mother (in no particular order)

Her sick sense of humor.

I know this seems an odd thing to love about a parent, but I do.  She once at all the insides of the oreo’s and then put them back together just so she could cackle when we went to eat one. It sounds awful, but it was hilarious. And who could forget Halloween growing up?

That she is ridiculously supportive of my blog

My Mom put money towards my t-shirt making machine for this blog (sorry Mom! ) she also gives out my business card to anyone she can and best of all- manages to promote my blog internationally – like when she’s on vacation in Mexico.

That she always tries to build me up

My mother is the parent who is always trying to support and encourage her children. Sometimes it pays off and sometimes she let’s me go out of the house dressed like an idiot.

That she still creates fun Christmas/Easter scavenger hunts and games.

Even though I have two brothers and the youngest of us is 21, my  Mother still is coming up with original ways to make the holiday’s fun for us – in a childish way. I love it. Plus, I ALWAYS WIN AT EVERYTHING. Lesson learned brothers.

 That she is always there for me when I’m feeling down…. with rationality.

Sometimes I can be very self indulgent in my sorrow. Sometimes to the point when I am having major pity parties for myself. My Mom manages to be loving, but realistic.

But most of all, I love my Mom for just being her. For never apologizing for being herself. And for being a constant loving support to everyone she touches. She is an amazing individual and I feel so blessed that she is my Mother.

So go out and share some love with your Mother or Mother-figure! Happy Mother’s Day!