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Happy Go Kate



Last Updated: 8/1/2008

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Gender: Female
Status: Married
Age: 42
Sign: Capricorn

State: TEXAS
Country: US
Signup Date: 4/6/2006

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January 29, 2008 - Tuesday 

Current mood:  aggravated
Category: Religion and Philosophy
Stephanie Conover was crowned Miss Canada Plus in 2007. She was then asked to judge the Miss Toronto Tourism pageant this February but was dropped after the organizers discovered she had an interest in witchcraft. In actuality, that interest was a "dabbling in Reiki and Tarot cards".

Their letter reads "Tarot card reading and Reiki are the occult and is not acceptable by God, Jews, Muslims or Christians."

And just like that, she was out.

Okay, I'm blogging this for a couple of reasons.

One, its stupid and before they start making statements they should check their facts. Reiki is actually a hands-on healing practice that is considered to be alternative medicine, not witchcraft. It originated in Japan and is considered to be "Eastern medicine" much like acupuncture would be. Witchcraft, Wicca and Paganism doesn't even come into play here.

And while I'm on this topic, does that mean that all those faith healers out there are also of the "occult"? I mean, who cares if they're carrying around a Bible? They lay their hands on somebody and the person is miraculously healed... ooooohhh... they must be evil...

Two, their spokesperson - Karen Murray - said ""We (accept) all religions, all nationalities, but we would reject them if they were into witchcraft." Well, then you DON'T really accept ALL religions now do you? In fact, from the content of the letter, you only accept Jews, Muslims and Christians. I don't know if Ms. Murray realizes it, but there are more religions out there than just three. Seriously... I know its a surprise Ms. Murray, but there are in fact a number of different religions and while you might think yours is the best, the Constitution says that we have a right to practice any religion that we want. Really... its legal and everything.

The third reason I'm blogging this is that I'm Pagan. Have been for about the last ten plus years. I was raised Baptist, even had plans to become a missionary when I was young but as I grew up, I also grew tired of not getting answers to what I thought were legitimate questions.

Now, I'm not knocking Christianity or any other religion for that matter... too bad everyone doesn't practice that nicety isn't it? What I am knocking is this blatant assumption that if its not "your" religion, then it must be the devil's work.

Contrary to popular belief, witchcraft has nothing to do with the devil. In fact, there is no devil in Pagan pantheons - the devil is a Christian image that was likened to the Pagan "Pan" when Christianity began its real uprising way back when. Interestingly, and I'm betting Ms. Murray didn't know this either - many of the Christian symbols and holidays are based upon Pagan practices. This was done to help the conversion process along as it was believed that familiar symbols and observances would make it easier for people to convert from one religion to another.

In reality, Paganism (which includes witchcraft, Wicca, etc) is an earth-based religion and a beautiful one at that. It acknowledges a "higher power" but also advocates a co-creating partnership rather than resigning mankind to a hapless and helpless sinner at the whims of a vengeful God.

And while we're slamming religions, I do believe Christianity advocates acceptance, tolerance and brotherly love. Let him who is without sin cast the first stone... isn't that what the Bible says? Yet, Ms. Murray and the Toronto Tourism Pagent people seem quite content to dish out judgments and do so without having any knowledge of the subject on which they speak.

And what exactly does religion have to do with a beauty pagent anyway? Will God be tuning in or something?

For shame... here we are in the 21st century and we're still burning witches at the metaphorical stake. We're also still willing to show our ignorance... and apparently very happy to do it.

Our obsession with having the "right religion" has caused more wars and more death than anything else in our collective history. We are so bound and determined to "do God's work" that we completely miss the big picture.

This "my God can kick your God's ass" mentality has made us completely wacky and devoid of any logical thought. Its as if we believe there are several Gods up there, battling it out for supremacy and we're all praying we've picked the right team...

We don't really believe that.... do we?

I know Ms. Murray and her panel think they know what God wants. I know this because they said so... "Tarot card reading and Reiki are not acceptable by God..."

Obviously, they believe they've got the authority on what will and won't please God. After all, the Bible tells them everything they need to know, doesn't it?

But that same Bible also says that the Sun revolves around the Earth. It says that thunder is God shaking the pillars that support the Earth (remember, the Earth was flat back then) and that when a man is displeased with one of his wives, he can cast her out but if her son was the first born, he still has the right to inherit the father's estate.

Is this God talking too? Because if it is, we're all way off track.

Do I believe in God? Absolutely, although he might prefer to be called Allah, Buddah or even George or Shirley... I can't be sure. What I do know is that it doesn't make sense that a perfect being would be so caught up in things like revenge, jealousy and power. Those are human traits... characteristics of man's ego... certainly not worthy of a God.

We assume that God gets angry, dishes out punishment and becomes vengeful and jealous because that's what we do. But those aren't the traits that we're supposed to aspire to. Quite the contrary, those are the traits that we're supposed to overcome. Why? If God is really the arrogant being we've portrayed him to be, then our arrogance and hatred would be considered a holy attribute wouldn't it?

If we ever want to evolve, I mean really evolve into something "more" than what we've become, we're going to have to let go of these juvenile and self-serving behaviors. We're going to have to learn tolerance and acceptance - not just preach it, but actually practice it.

We're going to have to give up trying to be the "best" and just learn to "be".

And maybe then, just maybe... we'll finally discover what God (or Shirley) really wants.




7:25 AM 
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January 23, 2008 - Wednesday 

Current mood:  bummed
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
Heath Ledger was found dead in his Manhattan apartment on Tuesday, January 22, 2008. News reports say that sleeping pills were found nearby; an autopsy is scheduled for Wednesday. He was 28 years old.

I'm so bummed about this... Ledger was a brilliant actor - I loved everything this guy did.


6:37 AM 
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January 1, 2008 - Tuesday 

Current mood:  optimistic
Category: Life
May your days be full of wonder
Of joy and love and smiles
May the doors of opportunity open
And your journey unwind for miles...

May you never cease to question
May you make the world a better place
May you find forgiveness and tolerance
And meet the world with a smile on your face...

May you greet new friends with open arms
While you hold the old friends dear
May you remember to skip and play and laugh
And have a glorious, wondrous new year. :)
9:24 PM 
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November 25, 2007 - Sunday 

Category: Romance and Relationships
It had been so long since she had a man in her home, Sarah found herself feeling nervous and unsure.

The fact that he was gorgeous didn't help either. Tall and muscular, he had a mysterious air about him that just seemed to draw her in and when he held her, she felt as if she could just stay there in his arms forever.

A delicious shiver ran down her spine as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Need some help?" he whispered.

She smiled and sighed, the scent of his Old Spice cologne filling her senses.

"Just pouring us a drink, love," she said giggling, and he slid his arms around her waist and pressed up against her.

He was hard, and fairly big, she thought, though it was hard to tell through the support girdle she was wearing. But no matter... she was in love and a small penis wasn't going to stand in the way of her happiness.

Besides, there were ways to deal with that. Like the time her neighbor upstairs forgot his Viagra. He had been frustrated, embarrassed even but she had known what to do. A vibrator and a rubber band had been all it took to give his little guy some support and she knew he appreciated her sexual spirit, even if he didn't say so when he left. And then there was that delivery guy...

"Sarah?"

Damn! Had she done it again? Why was she so determined to get lost in her past instead of enjoying the "now"? How many times had she missed out on an orgasm because she had started thinking about something else instead. Stupid things like shoelaces and racing gloves. Mmmhh... shoelaces.. now there was a story. When the Maytag repairman had...

"Sarah?"

She turned to face him - his deep blue eyes, his perfect face. Okay, well, his nose wasn't exactly perfect. It was sort of big and one nostril seemed to be a little larger than the other. In fact, it was kind of crooked, not deformed really but just sort of...

"What are you thinking about?," he said, nuzzling her neck. "You're a million miles away."

She closed her eyes, his hot breath on her neck sending a rush all over her body. His hands moved slowly down from her shoulders, his fingers finding their way to all those private places that no one talks about but everyone plays with. Like that time in the 6th grade when she accidentally rubbed up against the seam in her jeans. She was just trying to scoot up in her seat really, but her desk wasn't level and she rocked forward when she shifted. Any other day it wouldn't have meant a thing but she had been wearing Levi's. Those durable, indestructable Levi's with their thick seam centered perfectly over her...

"Let's get more comfortable," he whispered and she realized that she was doing it yet again. She would have to concentrate. Stay focused. That's what her coach used to tell her. The big, lumberjack of a woman that always made Sarah run extra laps on the bleachers in volleyball practice. She tried to tell her that running hurt - Sarah had been a size D cup by the 9th grade - but the coach didn't care. She just kept making Sarah run the laps, up and down the bleachers, back and forth, over and over again... up and down and up and down...

"Hey.. sexy... you coming?"

Damn it, Sarah, focus! She smiled and nodded, walking over to join him on the couch. He was so very sexy. An adonis of a man that she just couldn't get enough of. And as she watched him adjust his junk, she wondered what she had done to get so lucky this time. She didn't care that he smelled his hand after he moved his balls around. And she didn't care about his crooked nose or the hair that was peeking out of his ears. Those little imperfections paled in comparison to his inner beauty. The way he walked... the way he smiled... the way he laughed like Gomer Pyle from those TV shows she used to watch as a little girl. How this man wasn't already taken by some lucky girl was beyond her.

But Sarah knew she was the lucky one now.

She sat beside him and he immediately kissed her. One of those slow, passionate kisses, so soft at first that she could barely feel the coldsore on his lip. And then the kiss became deeper, stronger and Sarah felt all of her inhibitions melt away.

His hands danced over her body, touching and caressing like she had never been touched before. Although, now that she thought about it, that homeless guy on the stoop had...

No, no, no! Focus on the now, focus on the now! Sarah knew the only way to really ever achieve an orgasm was to learn to focus. And she had been close... oh so close a few times. But then she faded away to something else and by the time she realized it, her hand had gone numb from the over-exertion.

But not this time.

His tongue was in her mouth - when did that happen?? - and Sarah tried desperately to give him all her attention. She knew that the growling in her stomach was more than just those chili-cheese burritos they had eaten earlier... no, what she was feeling was pure, uninhibited desire. Okay, maybe a little bit of indigestion, but it was at least 98% desire. Definitely a strong 90% desire... hmm.. for sure 70% desire.

Sarah decided to ignore the growling in her stomach. A full colon wasn't going to rob her of what promised to be such a fantastic night.

"You are so hot," he groaned and Sarah groaned back to cover the small bit of flatulence that had escaped when he pulled her forward. Just noisy, but not stinky... obviously the stars were really smiling on her tonight!

Sarah felt his hand slide down between her thighs and tried to remember when she last used her Summer's Eve...

"I want you," he growled

to be continued...
Currently reading:
Honey Are You Listening?: Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder and Your Marriage
By Rick Fowler
Release date: May, 2002
6:20 AM 
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October 18, 2007 - Thursday 

Current mood:  exhausted
Category: Life
While my son heads off to bed all on his own, my daughter on the other hand looks for reasons to stay up. She's four after all, and at that age I know she's certain she'll miss out on some "big people" fun if she dozes off too soon.

The result however, is that I'm up at ridiculous hours and so is she. Just now, I sent her back to bed for the 50th time, despite her protests that we needed to buy a birthday card for grandma even though she has no clue when grandma's birthday is.

Interestingly though, one of her grandmas does actually have a birthday coming in about two weeks but we haven't mentioned that to her so I can only assume its her psychic abilities kicking in, which is another blog entirely.

Now, I understand that at four, her little brain is buzzin, busy soaking up anything and everything that might be going on around her. It doesn't matter if she's looking at you - she hears everything you say, even those quiet little whispers when my hubby and I try to sneak back into the bedroom for some "quiet time" while she watches Blues Clues and The Backyardigans. Don't give me that look - if you don't have kids, you simply cannot understand: they have radar. They know when you're trying to get a little action and they will summon all the dark forces to make sure it doesn't happen. That too, is another blog entirely.

So, why isn't my little angel going to sleep tonight?

Here's the reasons I've gotten thus far:

"I don't like these bajamas.. I want pink ones!" (no, I didn't misspell - that's how she says it)

"The zombies come out at night and sleep in the day. I don't like them." (don't ask me - we got rid of our zombies years before she was even born.)

"Remember when Sponge Bob told Patrick he was a dork?  Mama, what's a dork?"

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"I have a headache" (points to her stomach). "I need some medicine."

"Can I have the Princess Playhouse? We can get it at Wal-Mark."

"My babies won't let me sleep. They keep making noise."

"There's a monster in my room who tries to kick my butt with a flyswatter." (okay, the "kick my butt" is totally mine, but its better than "ass" coming out of a 4-year old and the flyswatter hasn't ever really happened - I've just threatened it on occassion when she decided to test her limits.)

"I wanna sing you a nite-nite song" (guitar in hand)

"I've got work to do." (obviously, she hangs around me way too much)

"My brother won't let me sleep." (Big brother snoring in the next room)

And when everything else fails... "but I neeeeeeeed you".

Ah well... how can I say no?
Currently reading:
Good Nights: How to Stop Sleep Deprivation, Overcome Insomnia, and Get the Sleep You Need
By Gary K. Zammit
Release date: 15 March, 1998
4:26 AM 
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October 16, 2007 - Tuesday 

Current mood:  gloomy
Category: Life
Okay, I'm going to try not to be too depressing here, but my chicken died today and I thought I should say a few words.

Now, I know you're laughing... after all, it is a chicken, but she was a sweetie-pie and acted more like a dog than a bird, so cut me a little slack,,, k?

I actually rescued her from a friend of ours - his hen had hatched some chicks but something had killed the mom and all of the babies except her and her brother. I caught them, brought them home and convinced my hubby (against his will) to help me find a cage. When they were big enough, I let them loose in the barn where they lived happily until a stray cat got the rooster. Needless to say, she went back into the cage at night from then on.

Does she have a name? Well, I tried several but none ever took until she hatched some orphan eggs and my daughter dubbed her "little mama". The name stuck - that's her in the pic above, with one of the chicks and an egg that had yet to be hatched.

My little mama died today, courtesy of our new puppy, Cash -


That's him - he's a sweetie pie too... except for being a chicken-killer and all...

So there you go... my chicken's dead, I have my dog to thank for it, and we had to explain to my daughter that little mama went to visit some chicken friends and won't be coming back. And on top of that it rained today but our pond is still just a hole in the ground with no water. Yep, life sux sometimes... how was your day?

4:02 AM 
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October 11, 2007 - Thursday 

Current mood:in denial
There is a nasty rumor floating around that MySpace is nothing more than a popularity contest.

I know, I know.. *gasp* How could that be???

Supposedly, getting in the top ten blog list is akin to winning prom queen or something but obviously, that can't be true and ultimately, who wants to be prom queen anyway? You have to wear that stupid crown and it might mess up my 'do.

And, so what if I rarely get comments on my blog?. That doesn't mean that people aren't reading them... Just that they don't say anything back. But you certainly can't judge a popular blog from that... can you?

Maybe they're just shy. Maybe they're in awe of my wit and rants and sit stupified in front of their computers, not knowing what to do. Or maybe, just maybe... my readership suffers from serious ADD and can't pay attention long enough to respond.

But that doesn't mean they're not enjoying the read anyway.

How do I know people are reading? Because I talk about things like sex and penis-spam and farting when you get older and let's be honest... that's just good reading no matter how you look at it. Plus, I strategically place key SEO phrases like dick, fuck and shithead throughout my blogs, so I know I'm getting a well-rounded group of readers. And lastly, I know that my blogs are being read because whenever I mention pole-dancing, Jason shows up with kudos.

Does it bother methat people aren't talking back??? No, no, no... not the least fucking bit. Want to know why? Because I'm married with kids. I'm used to talking about really interesting and important stuff only to discover that no one is listening.

If I ask them to repeat it back, of course they can't, but they reward me with a blank, panicked stare that just warms my heart. That's love, people, and I'm delighted to say that I get the same indifference from my readers.

*sigh* I'm getting all misty just thinking about it.

So, don't you worry my beloved fans... I'll keep right on posting and you just go right on continuing to tune me out.

Now that's devotion! :)
Currently reading:
How to Be Popular
By Meg Cabot
Release date: 25 July, 2006
5:24 AM 
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October 9, 2007 - Tuesday 

Current mood:  anxious
Okay, I don't know about you, but I'm tired of all the pharmaceutical commercials. We have a pill for everything it seems, from impotence and dry vagina to jumpy legs that keep you up at night. Of course, they all have tactful, clinical sounding names such as IBS, RLS and the ever-popular "ED". But we know what they are and the more commercials we see, the more symptoms we seem to have.

Now, I realize that some ailments are serious. The dry vagina is certainly no walk in the park. But do we really need so many drugs? And more importantly, do I have to see a commercial for one every 30 seconds?

I recently finished up an ebook for a client on the importance of eating right. To write this lovely money-maker, I had to delve into the exciting world of processed foods and I have to say, there is nothing more grotesque that what our junk food diet does to our body. It clogs the digestive system and because of the processing process (say that five times fast!), it fills us with empty calories, toxic preservatives and a whole list of mysterious chemicals that fall under the category of "natural flavors".

Given this suspicious list of ingredients, its no wonder we're sick. And you can read my powdered sugar donut-coated lips: the restless legs and irritable bowel syndrome are just the beginning.

So it occurs to me... food industry... pharmaceutical industry... hmm... Maybe we wouldn't be so fucked up if we didn't eat so much shit. And maybe that was the plan all along... maybe the food industry and the pharma industry got together and figured out that one could make us sick while the other could treat the symptoms. Forget actual "healing"... there's no money in a cure. But maintenance drugs? Yeah, that's the ticket! And the more we eat the crappy, addictive processed food, the sicker we'll become. We'll get anxiety disorders and muscle spasms and those noticeable facial ticks that seem to surface whenever we get stressed. Of course, we can't live like that - you can't get laid with flailing arms and facial ticks - so off to the doc we go to get a new set of pills.

And then the whole cycle begins again.

Shit, maybe I'm onto something here! Maybe it really IS a conspiracy and the big multi-million dollar corporations really don't care if the little guy gets cancer or heart disease or the dreaded erectile dysfunction from eating a chicken-like substance. Maybe we're nothing more than lab rats to the greedy SOB's and their sympathy is really just a front so that we don't know they're laughing hysterically at our mutated, malnourished bodies. Maybe... just maybe, what we need is a revolution! No more dry vagina! No more MegaDik pills! No more crappy food that leaves us feeling bloated and anxious and deformed!

Or then again... maybe I should just take my happy pill and go watch some more TV...there's probably an infomercial with my name on it just waiting for me to tune in.
Currently reading:
The Irritable Bowel Syndrome Solution: How It’s Cured at the IBS Treatment Center
By Dr. Stephen Wangen
Release date: 01 January, 2006
4:35 AM 
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September 30, 2007 - Sunday 

Current mood:  bouncy
If you tuned in to my blog last week, then you saw my complaints about penis-related spam.

Unfortunately, it doesn't look like the spammers were reading because I continue to receive an impressive collection of offers that will make my manhood larger, thicker and graced with amazing ejaculation.

This would all be fabulous if I actually had a dick but alas... I don't. So, since I seemed to be destined to receive every phallic-influenced email that crosses the great wide web, I thought the least I could do is help them on their marketing tactics.

First on my list is "Megadik". Their latest email has a subject heading that reads:

We are here for you and your penis! Megadik makes it just mega-large!

Okay, the most obvious critique here is the separation of me and my penis. If you're here for my penis, then I'd be coming along for the ride wouldn't I? And vice-versa for that matter. Its not like you've got some side deal going with the second head that the first one doesn't know about nor am I looking to surprise "my little buddy" with a gift of majestic granduer. Shh... I can't wait to see his expression when he wakes up and sees how much he's grown!

And guys, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't "here for you" more of a chick-statement than something you'd say to a man? Bruno doesn't want to hear that you're "here for him" and neither does his penis since we're giving him a vote. What he (and his junk) wants to know is that you've got something that will get him laid, guaranteed, no questions asked.

Am I right?

So, I'm thinking something like:

Megadik... how long has it been since you had a good fuck?

Or.. Megadik. For the mega "O".

Okay, on to 2...

Manster is your new weapon.

Manster? Seriously??? Shit, why not go ahead and call it "Probester" or "Thruster"? Or for that matter, just cut to the chase and call it "Big Dick Pill".

Now there's a product that men would buy - "Get Your 30-Day Free Trial of the Big Dick Pill Here!".

There you go... another penis-marketing campaign catastrophe narrowly avoided. Your welcome.

The last highlight of this rendition of "does your dick-pill marketing suck?" is:

Ordinary guys have ordinary sex.

I don't know about you, but if I get my cookies, there was nothing ordinary about it. And if I did have a penis, I seriously doubt I'd be jumping to go stand in the "ordinary" line. I mean, I might buy a fancy sports car or a big house to create the illusion of a larger endowment, but just come right out and say that its mediocre? No fucking way. And speaking for me and my imaginary penis, I have to say I'm just a little bit insulted at the implications.

So there.
Currently reading:
PENIS ENVY: DOES SIZE REALLY MATTER OR IS IT THE SIZE OF THE MATTER?
By Peter, A. Sacco PhD
Release date: 26 July, 2007
4:16 AM 
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September 25, 2007 - Tuesday 

Current mood:  awake
Category: News and Politics
There's a story posted on Yahoo! News about the sex life of the African jumping spider.

I know... you thought this was going to be something totally different, didn't you??? :)

Anyway, apparently scientists have been studying the sex life of these spiders and discovered that while the virgin females go for the meatier mate, those that have already copulated (but weren't eaten by their male counterpart), go for the smaller mates thereafter.

And they are utterly surprised.

I have two problems with this study (hence, my ranting post here) and here they are:

For starters, why are we spending money studying the sex life of African spiders? Not that we haven't all wondered about this very thing, but come on... I know that Animal Planet needs new material but that's what guys like Jeff Corwin are for and besides, we've got much bigger fish, or spiders as the case may be, to fry. Go cure some diseases or build a teleporter so we never have to drive again. You'll solve the global warming problem and get rid of road rage in one fail swoop. At the very least, could they design a holodeck so that I can have romantic encounters with Brad Pitt at my leisure? See, now that would be worth some funding.

And what about all those "great mysteries of the world"? Where do those crop circles really come from for example, or what's our congress really doing to earn all that dough? And we haven't even touched on George Bush's thought process yet... that's worth at least a few years of study, don't you think?

Secondly, why are these scientists so surprised? One only has to look at the human female population to know that women will go for the meatier guy first and then seek out the not-so-jock guys the second time around. Why? Because the first time around, we're looking for someone studly, brainwashed to our society's idea of "bigger really is better". But Mr. MegaDik is more likely to lie, cheat and forget to call us when he says he will. He also tends to rely on the notion that the female's satisfaction is guaranteed which, as any chick will attest to, most certainly is NOT.

Smaller guy on the other hand has had to earn his sexual prowess. He knows that its world-of-mouth that will get him laid and so he better do a damn good job if he wants to get any in the future. He knows that there's more to "skills" than just sticking it in and has mastered the art of pleasure.

So there you have it. My rant for the day and an in-depth look at the mating habits of the African jumping spider. Aren't you glad you ventured over to my blog? :)


4:41 AM 
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