I spotted this picture on a Tumblr the other day, and it made me sad, because when one of my friends had a baby, I sent her this same pacifier as a gift:
I thought it was hilarious and pretty much made me the coolest fake auntie ever, but I’ve never seen it in the many times I’ve visited her since, and I’ve especially never seen it actually in the baby’s mouth. Her other kid does use the ice cream cone lamp my best friend, Tracey, and I got her. But still.
I should probably have kids just to buy them cool stuff. And I should especially have them with Kamran, because then they’d turn out looking like little donut holes:
Always one to enjoy a good joke at my own expense, I was looking through old photos recently and decided that the picture from this post really needed to be made fun of some more.
I immediately thought of photobombs and this picture in particular, which has to be one of the best things to ever appear on the Internet:
Naturally, I make a great addition to it:
I sent the picture to my most Photoshop-talented co-worker, Anthony, who first went for the awful:
but then decided to insert me into some iconic photos:
If you have any editing skillz, use this and e-mail your worst to me at plumpdumpling@unapologeticallymundane.com!
Like a baby bunny, right? A baby bunny who has to turn her head to the left or right to see you out of the two little holes she’s made in the curtain of curls that hangs down to her nose and refuses to be swept aside or pinned back.
Annoying.
So, last night, I went to see my stylist, whom I only started going to because she works at the same place where Felicity got her hair cut. And also because she charges $20 when I’m pretty sure you can’t get a haircut elsewhere here for less than four times that much. Or maybe ten times that much. I’m sure a real woman of the city like Jill could tell you.
Anyway, she lopped a little off as requested and then asked if she should blowdry it. I thought that meant use a blowdryer on it simply to keep me from catching a cold, but it actually meant blowdry it straight like probably every other woman who walks in there requests.
And you know what? It actually felt kind of nice not to have to worry about which curl was sticking up where and which curl had wrapped itself around which other curl to give me the appearance of a DNA model kit. But it felt awful to
LOOK LIKE THE MIDDLE-AGEST, MIDWESTERNEST WOMAN EVER!
I asked Kamran if he was going to knock boots with me before bed, and he said it’d be too much like gettin’ busy with his mom.
So far, my “80s costume” has been referred to three times today, starting with Kamran making fun of me at 8:30 a.m., leading to my friend Jack stopping mid-conversation and asking me why I’m dressed like this at 11 a.m., and culminating in my friend Nik questioning during lunch, “Has anyone made fun of Katie’s outfit yet today? Okay, good.”
I blame the fact that Pandora keeps playing “Safety Dance” for me:
I know people were trying to bring back the 90s recently, but seriously, give me a fake Members Only jacket or give me death.
Today, with a little guidance from my dear friend/bitter archrival Jeff, I added this superhot navigation bar to the right side of my blog that shows a sampling (but not the entirety of, which is hilarious) my other blogs. Another incarnation of the bar had been hanging out at the top of my blog, and I hated it so much, so fixing it basically means I don’t have to ever do anything else worthwhile in my life, and I can still feel like a pretty accomplished person.
However, shortly thereafter, I got an e-mail from a woman at NYCTrip.com, a company that sells NYC sightseeing vacation packages. She contacted me yesterday about participating in and blogging about their Ground Zero and Statue of Liberty Walking Tour, which includes a trip inside the Statue itself. I haven’t been to Liberty Island in probably six years and have never been up inside the Lady, so I was pumped to write back and enthusiastically accept.
The woman responded to my acceptance with something along the lines of, “If anyone will do this tour justice textually and photographically, it is you and your brilliant, brilliant blog.” Something like that, I swear.
But then she also added, “Oh, by the way! On your website, your email is listed with a typo as plumpdumpling@unapoligeticallymundane.com.”
That’s right. I spelled my own name wrong. Not so accomplished, are we now, English major?
I'm Katie, a farmgirl originally from Ohio who moved to NYC in 2005 for no apparent reason. I like vintage-looking things that are actually new, filagree everything, people who don't make me feel awkward, meaning it when I say "no sleep till Brooklyn", and not trying too hard.
