Last week’s episode of Samantha Who? was all about going on a date when you have amnesia and can’t relate fun life facts to your date (or any facts, at all). I grabbed a pad of paper and a pen because while I don’t technically have amnesia, I do have dating amnesia—as in, it’s been
I have found the one, and in true Los Angeles fashion, our eyes met while we were driving. I initially thought I was going to need to curse him. He cut me off, slightly, and it annoyed me. But really, being able to slam on my brakes like that gave me the opportunity to look
The other day I saw a trailer for the movie “The Bucket List”. It’s a movie about two men (played by Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman) who make a list of all the things they want to do before they kick the bucket—and then they force each other to do them. The trailer got me
Obviously, many people mistake me for a top model. Between my near midget size and my penchant for sensible shoes, it really is no wonder. Sure, sometimes it is awkward for me—people stare. I am constantly getting questions like: “are those orthopedic shoes?” or “how did you manage to find a turtleneck in every color?”
Obviously, no one is ever going to confuse me with Elsa Maxwell. People don’t leave my home raving about my lavish and animated parties. This is largely because I live in a very small apartment—and I don’t let anyone inside. However, on very rare occasions, I will venture outside the fortress of solitude and do
Clooney v. FabioClearly, I fall on the side (or the front, or the back) of Clooney here. While I’ve read differing accounts of whether or not Clooney actually pushed Fabio, would anyone really be all that bummed out if Clooney had decked him? I mean, who hasn’t thought about decking Fabio at one time or
This is the subject of an email that came to me today and is currently in my inbox: “your new penis is here waiting for you” I swear to you, if this is from my blind date, I’m out. Katecafepress.com/katedating
Welcome to my mid-life crisis. My name is Kate (Hi, Kate!), and I will be your tour guide. I find myself saying “how’d that happen” all the time these days—and I don’t just mean when I look at my enormous bottom on the mirror (I know how that happened—get thee back, oh evil Häagen-Dazs. Well,
I get a ton of email every day. It’s obviously from my dear readers who have taken the time to really reflect on what has been written here over the past year. I’ve touched them. This much is clear. I feel badly that I don’t always respond immediately. Because I was working on a friend’s
Everyone who said I couldn’t meet a man by staying inside my apartment, I’d like you to pay me $10. Please feel free to send it to my email address via paypal. I came home today to find not one, but two gentlemen inside my apartment. That’s right—they were already here. I didn’t even have