ka.thol.i.cism

The way I see it, Lance Armstrong kicked cancer square in the balls; due in no small part to the vast physical, mental, and emotional support, and overall sacrifice, of his lovely wife.

He then decided to repay her for her undying love by filing for divorce within the week that she was diagnosed with cancer, herself. His reasoning? “Seeing her be sick reminded me of being sick.”

Bro, she ain’t playing a part in a recital- she would have done anything to have been healthy, unlike you, who fought to have her health insurance cancelled before she could have her double-mastectomy.

Oh, and he then did this to three other women, (I’m looking at you Sheryl Crow.)

We get it. You were LIVESTRONG, you couldn’t say that you were doping, (especially given the common-knowledge fact that steroids and the male reproductive synergism is not unlike having someone microwaving your little buddy for 48 consecutive hours.)

So, I’m sorry that I find it difficult to find sympathy for this man in my heart. I really am, but I looked really high and way low, and I just couldn’t find one measly piece of shit to give.

The Mayan calendar ended a week or so ago; the day of reckoning came and went, and lo and behold, I am still on the couch, (be it in the great state of Washington rather than in Southland.)

My awakening on December 22. Waking up to the world 100% not ended on December 22 was rough. I had put a lot of eggs in one basket anticipating that I would not have any further mortal responsibilities. I declined to adjust my Fantasy Football starting lineup, I neglected to change the bottle in the water cooler, I failed to charge my iPhone- I hadn’t shaved my legs in weeks. Truth be told though, it really is a good thing that tomorrow I will be celebrating New Year’s Eve, (in Seattle with my favorite Puget Sound transplants, no less,) because this year really was my annus horribilis.

Thank you Ridley Scott for the highlight of my year.

I honestly cannot fully comprehend the amount of fail this year was without putting it into a tediously through info-graphic, but in the interest of remembering that the only place to go is ‘up,’ I present to you Twenty-Twelve: The Year I Wish We Lost Contact.*

January My exboyfriend broke into my house, held me against my will, and kicked in my front door. Five star start to the new year, if you ask me.

February I totaled my car. It was the first rain of the year (it had been unseasonably warm all winter- we’re talking 80 degrees on New Year’s Day,) and as I was driving home from school someone sideswiped the passengers’ side of my SUV; my car hydroplaned and hit the median head-on at 65 MPH, the rear then fishtailed and hit the median again, I came to rest facing the wrong-way on the freeway after the front-end hit the speed barrier again. A few days later, the same exboyfriend who terrorized me in January attempted to murder me, (by choking me no less,) as I was attempting to leave him.

March Meningitis sucked. However, I got a new car.

My ex who enjoyed terrorizing me keyed my baby the night I got it, and we temporarily moved back in with Hubs’ family strictly so he couldn’t find me, (unbeknownst to us that he had gone through our mail and knew Hubs’ family’s address.)

April Post LP Headache[s,] blood patches, and back pain sucked.

Pictured: my April.

May Hubs turned 27 and also got a new car; my new car once again was keyed, I filed for a restraining order against my ex.

June My first time in a courtroom blew, and my sweet Lupus spent the majority of the summer acting up.

July The Fourth happened, and I’m pretty sure I blocked the rest of it out, because I have basically zero recollection of this month. Wa turned 22, though, and I pulled myself out of my domicile long enough to be celebratory.

August I drove myself to Lake Tahoe to visit my extended family, (the same family I am currently visiting up in Seattle,) and I spent the whole time broken out in hives, experiencing asthma attacks, and bordering on using my EpiPen. I hate casinos.

Oh, and I got engaged when I got home. September Hubs’ and my cat died. In an effort to cheer me up he took me to the ASPCA to ‘look at’ kittens.

Enter Gadget and Penny. November Celebrated Poppy’s second birthday with him missing from this earth, nearly cut off my finger, and nearly lost my dad because he was too stubborn to head to the doctor when he was really sick. He had appendicitis, but with my dad’s shoddy health-history infection spread, bowl necrosis occurred, and Kathryn spent her first Friday of December at the Good Samaritan Hospital Christmas party.

December Well, my dad survived and so did I; had to leave Hubs for ten days; however, I once again conquered my epic fear of flight (shout-out to diazepam,) and can’t count account for much negativity in the month proceeding November.

As I was perusing Facebook earlier today, I came across Gap’s present status. It reads,

Today, we join in observing a moment of silence to honor and remember the victims of the Newtown, Connecticut tragedy and their families.

At first I ‘liked’ the status, then I became very annoyed. Twenty-seven people are dead. Twenty-six were murdered, and one committed suicide; however, regardless of the route, twenty-seven people are no longer on this earth, but in it. Twenty-seven families are now planning funerals. Twenty-seven coffins or urns must be purchased. Twenty-seven bodies will be embalmed or cremated.

Twenty-seven families must now notify the IRS, the Social Security Administration, the Department of Revenue, the Department of Health and Human Services, doctors, dentists, the school district, banks, insurers, and anyone else even remotely financially related to the deceased. Twenty-seven accounts are now due. Twenty-seven families will change beneficiaries, cancel insurance plans, amend wills, edit advance directives, and lose tax deductions. Twenty-seven families will miss days, if not weeks, work and wages to do these things. Twenty-seven families will not take that time to mourn, but to make sure that their family does not fall into legal trouble or financial ruin.

Twenty-seven families have hastily shoved presents into the closet because seeing the wrapped packages is too much to bear. Twenty-seven families aren’t going to have a holiday. Twenty-seven families now have their visions of sugar plums replaced with visions of blood melting the pure snow. Twenty-seven mothers will never smile the same again. Twenty-seven fathers will erroneously feel that they failed. Twenty-seven marriages will be tested- and some wont make it. Twenty-seven families will now have the most magical time of the year remind them of murder. Twenty-seven families would do anything to be whole again for just one night. Twenty-seven families are now stark representatives of paradise lost.

Twenty-seven families now must worry about how to scrape together for mandatory autopsies, obituaries, taxes, and death certificates. Twenty-seven families will hire lawyers, accountants, and psychiatrists. 

Twenty-seven families are now spending thousands more than they intended or were able to this holiday season; because dying, especially at an unnatural age, is expensive.

While I’m sure the positive thoughts are better than nothing, Gap, you cannot pay bills with prayer. So, I challenge you, (as well as all large companies that posted about #MomentForSandyHook,) to actually do something. Change your battle cry to #MoneyForSandyHook. In general, gift cards come in selections of $5-$500; there are twenty-seven people are dead, put your money where your mouth is. If you were to donate to each family one of the gift cards in the highest denomination, you would incur a cost of $13,500. It is tax-deductible and will result in your receiving the equivalent of millions of dollars in publicity, (if you really are that concerned about your bottom line.)

Twenty-seven families would have the financial burdens forced upon them eased. Twenty-seven families would have something to smile about this holiday season. Twenty-seven families might not have to return the gifts they bought for each other this year. Twenty-seven $500 gift cards would make you millions of customers for life.

However, I bet you wont do this. Prove me wrong.

Kathryn Champlin [email protected] 

— 1 week ago with 2 notes

First off- my bad...again. I have been extremely busy, running around like an absolute crazy person due to wedding planning, birthdays, the new semester, as well as Hubs and myself becoming infected with the respiratory and sinus infection from hell. I currently am still nursing myself with some Traditional Medicinals' Throat Coat and doxycycline, while Hubs is still nursing himself in the evenings with traditional medicinal marijuana. That being said, I now have my shiny new white iPhone 5, (thanks, Hubs,) and easily weeks of new material to wax enthusiastic about. Let's start with my girlfriend, Siri.

File this under: the best purchase I ever made.

Unlike two years ago when I acquired my iPhone 4, I did not make Hubs camp out overnight in front of AT&T for this phone. I simply asked him nicely to open his wallet. I will admit, the anticipation seemed hell bent on killing me for the four days that I had to wait after the in-store release before I received my shiny little engraved gadget to arrive from Shanghai; however, I do believe having the little '__kath' engraved on my phone's back- not very much unlike the tattoo on the back of my neck- was worth it, (and I know that having Hubs be able to sleep in our bed instead of on the sidewalk was definitely worth the wait.)

This girl and I are already thick as thieves. I really do love absolutely everything about this phone (although, I am realizing that it is apparently absolutely effing impossible to get a case for it, so I'm currently storing it in a Tory Burch sunglasses pouch and box until I am able to remedy that situation,) but I clearly love Siri the most. She is skillful with her searches, most helpful with her abilities, oh, and absolutely hilarious, (seriously, tell her that you're wasted or that you want to switch to Android.)

  You...light up my life. You light up my lifeeeee! Honestly, I did forget that both my phone and my iPad came equipped with Siri. So, for the first day or so that I had the phone (and the software update for my iPad,) I was still going about things the same way. Using my finger to type in events on my calendar, scrolling through my contacts when needing to make a call, and spending downtime Googling for sports scores (see above,) until the cartoon-esq light bulb was electrified in my brain that was so compounded with metastasized rhinitis.

Oh, damn girl...I'll shake my stick at you. I pressed the 'home' button and held it. Then came the most beautiful beep-beep and What can I help you with? that I had ever heard. I sheepishly replied, "What's the traffic like on highway two-eighty south, right now?" I was absolutely swooning while asking of this little silicon and aluminum minx. It's pretty light, the machine of my dreams replied, do you want me to get you directions from here? Directions? No my dear, they're not needed- I just want to you live in my pockets, handbags, and heart forever.