Month: July 2011

Three Things of Great Importance (including my new deodorant)

Three things: Thing 1) I’m trying a new deodorant. Thing 2) If, while reading this, you find yourself thinking, “That’s nice Kat, but really, I couldn’t care less about your personal hygiene habits,” you’ll soon discover that you’re mistaken. I’ll explain everything on Monday but since it’s Saturday and I’m feeling generous (and I don’t want you to worry that I’m lapsing back into my ill-fated “Health and Beauty” phase) I’ll give you a little hint: there are prizes involved.  $300 worth of prizes to be exact, and no, I’m not talking about awarding dinky little speed sticks to all of my readers—I’m talking about gift certificates.  Two lovely “Thanks for stopping by!” gift certificates to a department story of YOUR CHOICE thanks to a new contest I’ve dreamed up with the lovely folks over at Revlon cosmetics… but more on that next week. Thing 3) If, however, you don’t think you can wait until next week, then head on over to Facebook and “like” my new page, “Kat Richter, Writer.”  I’ll be posting updates, …

My Claim to Fame: Indecent Exposure

Every once in a while, when I’m bored and trying not to obsess over my text messages (or lack of lack of text messages, as it were), I like to take a look the “Site Stats” on my blog.  The stats tell me all sorts of interesting things about my “public,” ranging from how they managed to find me in the first place to which days they do their most procrastinating at work (Mondays and Tuesday, judging by my early-week ratings). Writing a blog, however, is a funny thing.  According to number crunchers over at WordPress HQ, the number one search that sent would-be readers my way was (for a very long time) “public bra removal.”  I couldn’t believe it at first (seriously, bra removal?) but then I checked Google, and earlier this year, if you Googled “public bra removal,” my blog came in at number seven. Well, I thought to myself, isn’t this just dandy? I admit that I do talk rather a lot about removing my bra in public, and that I am …

Delicious Dating

Wow.  I’ve got to admit the responses to yesterday’s post completed floored me—what a huge range of experiences in the “I love you” department!  In reading everyone’s stories, I was reminded of two experiences that even I’d forgotten.  The first was in third grade when a boy from the Czech Republic wrote me a love note using his sister’s nail polish.  His name was Vladislav and as the son of recent immigrants, he struggled with his English.  He also wore really girly sweaters and everyone teased him—everyone except me, that is; I used to hang out with him during recess when no one else would and tried to help him with his homework.  Evidently I’ve always had a thing for foreigners.  And metrosexuals. The second was perhaps the most romantic “I love you” of my life because, as several of you noted yesterday, “J’taime” is way better than “I love you.”  (Especially when you’re eighteen, freezing to death and just after seeing The Nutcracker.  Sigh…) But getting back to my “research.” Up until approximately three …

Your First “I Love you???”

So I’m reading yet another book on online dating, this time “Confessions of an Online Dating Addict: a True Account of Dating and Relating in the Internet Age” by Jane Coloccia, when I come across the following passage: Overall the relationship was good.  We spent every weekend together and had a fabulous time whether we were shopping in Wal-mart or going to a winery for a romantic weekend.  One night we were in his house and he was showing me old family movies and his sister called.  At the end of the conversation he said, “I love you too.” “So you do have that word in your vocabulary?” He smiled and said, “You know I love you Jane.” “I love you too,” I said and then we hugged.  It was the first time a man had ever told me he loved me. I am floored.  The first time?  The very first time?  The author is in her forties at this point and her adventures in “dating and relating” span 8 years and over 200 men, …

You Can Stand Under My Umbrella

It’s raining.  Not men, mind you, but cats and dogs and I’m standing at the bus stop in Northern Liberties sans umbrella, despite the fact that my students all chipped in to buy me a lovely (and not inexpensive) travel umbrella at the end of the year. I’ve just left a meeting for the Fringe Festival, I’m hungry, I’m thirsty and the bus is nowhere in sight. Across the street is a large row home with huge bay windows on the first floor.  Inside is a man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, wearing a beat up fedora, drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette, as you do in NoLibs… He smiles at me and I nod back, leaning against a telephone pole because I never was very good in science and I’m convinced that the pole will offer some sort of protection against the weather (either that or it will increase the likelihood of my being struck by lightning and subsequently turning into some sort of superhero). The bus is nowhere in sight and although I’ve …

Kissing Frogs in Cyberspace

In my continued efforts to determine just how far this serial dating epidemic has spread (and how I might learn from those who’ve gone before me), I decided to tackle Kissing Frogs in Cyberspace by Dianne Sweeney. The basic premise is exactly what one would expect of an online dating memoir: a self-possessed but single thirty-something decides to “take control” of her love life and embarks “upon a six-month quest” to find—you guessed it: the man of her dreams. In this case the single thirty-something is a high school English teacher so Kissing Frogs was an absolute delight to read on several counts.  Firstly, the girl can write, so instead of pausing every three sentences to think to myself “You know, she really should have reversed the order of those two clauses there…” I actually got swept up in the all of the drama of Sweeney’s “quest.” Secondly, now I know why all of you read this blog—it’s addictive!  Each time she got ready for her next date, I found myself wondering “What’s he going …

The Pittsburgh Saga Continues (with a light at the end of the tunnel)

So I’m sitting in the coffee shop at 2nd and Christian, not because I like the coffee shop at 2nd and Christian (too full of babbling Queen Village brats) but because it’s too hot to walk any further, when I find myself in a bit of a pickle.  I’m supposed to email my schedule around to the Young Adult Friends committee I’m on so we can settle on a weekend for our planning retreat in August but I can’t. Why?  Well, I’m also supposed to go to visit Date #7 in August but I don’t know when. I draft him a quick email explaining the situation (something along the lines “August is a rather long month… any particular weekends strike your fancy?”), but then I feel like I’m being pushy, so I delete it. Conventional wisdom tells me he’ll issue an official invite when he’s good and ready and trying to force him to do so is only going to lead to resentment and my being cast entirely too early into the role of the …

Dating (is) for the Dogs

I’ve been reading, writing and reviewing my brains out for the past 48 hours (thankfully being a dance critic is way more fun than being a book critic because as a dance critic, people are nice to you and give you free wine.  You get free tickets too, which is of course the entire point, but priorities are priorities and I’ve always loved the taste of free wine— especially free wine consumed amongst wealthy patrons of the arts). But let’s get back to the real reason we’re all here this morning: it’s not reading, it’s not writing and it’s certainly not reviewing—it’s dating.  Unfortunately, there’s not much to say about long distance limbo dating of the laissez faire variety: he called me; I called him.  He texted me; I texted him but I’m twitterpated, for better or worse, so even though I’m not actively dating Date #7, I’m also not actively dating anyone else. We’re putting our half-baked Tuscan villa plans on hold until we’re both in a position to actually go to Tuscany (which …