"He had no eyeballs, Officer. Does that help?"

Oh no! It's Halloween and you have no costume! Never fear. I've got one for you that's sure to scare strangers and loved ones alike: Go as a police sketch.

Everyone knows it's the scariest part of any crime. I have PTSD from just Googling these. So print out your favorite photo from below and make a mask. Add a hoodie. Wa-la.

The mutant people the sketch "artists" churn out look barely human. I loathe jumping to conclusions, but obviously these guys are all guilty.


This sketch artist is called the "Sketch artist Pacasso" for willfully ignoring of all sense of proportion.


Jayden James Spears-Federline in 22 years.


Yep, that's him. Second from the left. Yes, the eyeball-less one.


He's as surprised as you are that he knocked over that liquor store.


The Missing Link rapist


I'm not really sure how my African-American garden gnome came to life, but we'll never forget the trouble he caused.


So cute! He's like a baby with a gray beard!


"Hmmm, that's closer but needs a liiiiiiittle more forehead.”


Devo hat? Check. Manscaped eyebrows? Check. Face full o' makeup? Check. Let's go a-robbin'.


He kills his victims just by looking at them.


Someone called him "Angry Roseanne" one too many times.


Every serial killer ever.

"I like to relax!"

Another Match candidate comes so close, yet blows it. I think the extra special oomph in this attempt comes from the exclamation points. It feels like he's shouting to me at a club!


WELL 1ST OFF I LOVE TO BE OUTDOORS! I LIKE TO RELAX!

You seem very relaxed. What else do you love?

I LOVE LONG DRIVES, VACATIONS, SUNRISES AND SUNSETS! I LOVE TO GO CAMPING AND BE IN NATURE I ALS LIKE TO MAKE PEOPLE SMILE AS WELL! IM VERY EASY GOING REALLY WHATEVER "WE" DO TOGETHER WILL BE FUN

Why does “we” in quotes creep me out so much? What are your thoughts on race relations?

WERE ALL THE SAME IN GODS EYES...TRUE LOVE HAS NO ETHNICITIES!!

I’m sure Gods agree.

I DONT GO TO CHURCH BUT I DO WATCH JOEL OSTEEN EVERY WEEK!!! HE IS AWSOME!! JUST GETS TO THE POINT!!

Really?!?!?! The megachurch minister who preaches that God (sorry “Gods”) wants us to be rich? The one whose wife got kicked off a plane for being such a bitch and ended up chartering a flight to their ski trip instead? That one? His impending to-be-determined scandal will be the greatest show ever.

DESCRIBE MYSELF???

Does this offend you somehow?

WELL...IM ABOUT 6 FT. BLONDE HAIR BLUE EYES!! VERY CONFIDENT!! WELL DRESSED!! WELL GROOMED!! AND WELL MANNERED!!

Fan of short thoughts!!

(I WAS RAISED IN THE SOUTH FOR A WHILE, TEXAS, WHERE THEY KNOW HOW TO TREAT A LADY)

Editor’s note: untrue.

SOME GOOD OLD FASHION R & R!!! I LOVE TO TRAVEL AND CULTURALLY DIFFUSE MYSELF!!!

Say what?

LIKE WILL AND JADA OR JAY-Z AND BEYONCE ...BONNIE AND CLYDE...IM LOOKING FOR MY "BESTFRIEND" SO TO SAY...LIKE BAD BOYS WE RIDE TOGETHER WE DIE TOGETHER...

Oh my God, he’s got a bank heist planned for our date and he’s going to use me as a human shield. Could you now just type out the next few nonsense thoughts/rap phrases you’ve heard somewhere? Just whatever comes into your head?

BAD BOYS FOR LIFE!!! JUST REALLY A COOL GIRL!!! A DOWN ASS CHICK!!! YA.FIGURE.DEAL.ME!!! I MEAN I LIKE A SWEET GIRL A PRINCESS SO-TO-SAY OR AT LEAST SOMEONE I CAN MAKE MY PRINCESS!!

Thanks. This would be a good time to call your potential date a bitch and allude to domestic problems.

AT THE SAME TIME I LIKE A BITCH PARDON MY FRENCH BUT A GIRL WHO KNOWS WHAT SHE WANT AND HOW TO GET IT!!! A GIRL WHO WONT TAKE ANY B.S. WELL EXEPT FOR ME...JUST KIDDING, INCLUDING ME!!! WHEN IM RIGHT I WANT TO KNOW IT AND WHEN IM WRONG PUT ME IN MY PLACE!!

I DONT REALLY DO THE BAR THING ALMOST NEVER DO THE CLUB THING...

Really?(!!!) then why have I met you in every bar I’ve ever been in? But I’m sure a great guy like you has no problem meeting someone.

I GUESS IN MY MIND THOSE PLACES ARE FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVE TROUBLE MEETING SOMEONE...ME IVE NEVER HAD THAT PROBLEM, MY PROBLEM IS MEETING THE RIGHT GIRL, MY PRINCESS, AND I KNOW FOR DAMN SURE SHE ISNT IN A BAR OR CLUB.

Editor’s note: Yes, she is. She’s the one with the lower back tattoo and the even lower self-esteem.

I RUN A CONSTRUCTION COMPANY IN MANHATTEN Editor’s note: Manhattan AND THE 5 BOROS Editor’s note: Boroughs SOMETIMES ON LONG ISLAND Editor’s note: one out of three ain’t bad.

I AM VERY AFFECTIONATE IN A WAY???

Are you asking or telling?

THAT I LOVE KISSING...KISSING IS SO AWSOME TO ME!! ITS VERY SENSUAL AND SEXUAL...

Yup, you’re the first one to make the link between kissing and sex. Science should look into it.

(YOU CAN TELL ALOT ABOUT A KISS)

Go on, finish the thought. No? OK. Now babble about sex for a bit…

AND OBVIOUSLY WITH THAT ALSO IS SEX, WELL I LIKE TO MAKE LOVE PERSONALLY BUT GOOD SEX WITH THE RIGHT PERSON IS VERY IMPORTANT!!! ALOT OF IT TOO!!! MAYBE THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR YOU ALL AT ONCE BUT I DONT BEAT AROUND THE BUSH AND I DONT WANT TO MISLEAD ANYONE...I MEAN I AM LOOKING FOR THE RIGHT ONE AND THE RIGHT ONE WILL UNDERSTAND EXACTLY WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT!!!

To clarify, you’re talking about sex?

JESUS CLOWNFACE CHRIST! WHAT IS THAT? Oh, hey, Pete.

When you're a middle-aged man who's been corralled into going to some sort of Halloween function with your child the weekend before Halloween and you're walking on the dark street and you have a painted freakin' clown face but your black trenchcoat is covering your costume so everyone around you just sees a looming clownface when they look at you, it would be awesome to keep your kid attached to your hip so your neighbors at least stand a fighting chance of not pulling out their Mace when they see you. K?

I made it my whole life without being scared by clowns. That streak is over now. Good job, buddy.

Get with the program, New York Times, Burma's gone

Lawsuits are pretty awesome. Everyone knows this.

Last year, as the result of some legal settlement, (about what, I don't know. Who can keep up with them all!) my company made literally every last employee in this multi-national media conglomerate watch a video of our ethics policy. Over the course of a month we were herded by the thousands into this “1984”-style situation of a man projected on a giant screen reading … God knows what. Half of us fell asleep immediately. The other half waited to confirm it was the most boring thing they’d ever heard before falling asleep.

I was in the second group. I fought the good fight before nodding off, only to be woken up to the sound the man saying “Burma” followed by laughter. Say what? Burma humor? I asked my friend what I missed and she said it was this guy talking about something in Myanmar. Then he threw up huge air quotes and said, dripping with sarcasm “Burma”. Look, I’m sorry you don’t recognize the nation’s sovereignty from England with ….oh look at that. I’m asleep again.

So this country “Myanmar-formerly-known-as-Burma” as we’re all legally bound to call it. What up wit dat? (For these and questions re: airline peanuts and observations about white people dancing, don’t miss my one-woman show next week!)

What the? Where’d Burma go on my map? Myanmar must be a pretty new country for everyone to still be confused!

Oh well you better check your atlas’ year of publication (oh snap!), because (I just learned) it’s been Myanmar since 1948. That’s right. The year your grandparents got married. We’ve spent (counting on fingers, hold on) years calling it Myanmar-formerly-known-as-Burma.

Who is this helping? Isn’t this like saying “Abraham Lincoln, who is dead, was a tall man.”

Wake up, newspapers of America, with your mandatory Myanmar-formerly-known-as-Burma country. You've been in the pocket of Big Burma long enough. I know you all had winter homes there, but, like your stepfather Bill, it's gone and not coming back. Time to move on and forget it (and Bill) was ever in your life.

This terrible irreverence goes out to you, KayTeeGee

This post is brought to you by the number 3 and the letters "Musketeers."

Know how babies get that shocked look on their faces when you disappear behind your hands, only to mind-blowingly reappear seconds later? It’s a look like, “Never in my 9 months on Earth have I seen something so incredible!”

It’s heartwarming, really.

Sadly, as you get older it takes more and more to blow your mind. Randomly disappearing faces won’t cut it anymore. We need helicopters and the lottery and Michael Bay ‘splosions.

And Mint 3 Musketeers. (Fun fact: You can't misspell "Muskateers" without "Kate." Wow your friends this Halloween.) HAHA, you're old news York Peppermint Patties and Junior Mints and Chocoalte Altoids and mint chocolate chip ice cream!

Boy howdy will these blow your mind. I’ve had mint, I’ve had chocolate, I’ve even had them in combinations that have been pleasing to my palate. But never has anything rocked my world like these suckas. First of all, they’re bringing dark chocolate to the party – always a welcome treat. And there’s a detectable amount of salt to it. Sounds bad, but it’s awesome. Slightly salty, but awesome. And the mint! It’s softer than York Peppermint Patties, harder than Junior Mints and sweet and really great. (I know, I know, I should be a judge on Top Chef. People always say that.)

Apologies to anyone who wants these at my Halloween party this Saturday, because I'm going to eat the rest of them for dinner tonight.

Now how does this blogging endorsement thing work? CHECK PLEASE, 3 MUSKETEERS.

Shouldbefall

I’ll be remembered by history for many reasons.

One was my creation of the fifth season: Slush. Anyone in a Northern climate will tell you it’s a special sort of hell on sunny frigid days when you plummet mid-calf into a puddle of grey, icy water that should by all laws of physics still be frozen. Everything around you is dead and muddy. It ruins Christmas knowing this is around the corner.

Like those wacky Caesars (Julius and Augustus) before me who named July and August after themselves (only to screw up the whole rest of the calendar, since ancient timey people apparently ran out of steam with giving actual names for the months and just started calling them "seventh month" etc. But now September is the ninth month! Confusing? Yes, we also would have accepted boring.)

I'll win you back with my next idea. I'd like to create a sixth season: Shouldbefall.

It’s October! Why am I all pit-stainy still? Is it because I’m refusing to wear short sleeves? Probably. Is that because not ready to accept that it’s 80 degrees and I can’t will it to be cooler with my super powerful mind? That could also be the case.

Each and every day, I leave my house bundled up, convinced that today will be the day I’m glad I put on a sweater and have a scarf. It should be sweater weather (swether?) and sooner or later – with the power of my super mind – it will be. But the past few weeks it’s not been. Each and every day I crawl back home on the verge of heatstroke, encased in a patina of sweat like I’ve been oiled up for the Miss Hawaiian Tropics pageant.

Thanks to global warming, trick-or-treaters this year probably won’t even have to obscure their Halloween costumes under parkas, like we always had to. Every year I was a clown, bobby soxer or geisha from the waist down, but pure Eskimo from the waist up. It’s hard to demand candy from strangers, then eat said candy in said stranger’s driveway with the double obstacles of gloves and your stupid hood stings pulled so tight it blocks everything but your nose.

You kids today with your melty glaciers and text messaging. The only thing I can console myself with is that every kid ever now is allergic to peanuts, so people probably don’t pass out Snickers – the holy grail of tick or treat loot – all willy nilly the way they used to in the good old days (by which I obviously mean the late 80s/early 90s.)

Mr. F

So I was babysitting last week (because why wouldn’t I?) and I’m at the playground with this 6-year-old boy. The jungle gym is totally empty aside from us, which is great, because the precious little snowflake says he wants to play tiger and jungle hunter. (Because why wouldn’t he?)

Oh kill me now, Jesus.

So there I am, trying to climb out of harm’s way on some sort of spider-web apparatus, when the tiger decides he’s tired and curls up (because why wouldn’t he?) in this enclosed slide, hidden from sight.

That leaves me, an adult just sort of standing there looking like I’m ready to finally conquer my fear of the top of the jungle gym.

I was briefly filled with glee at the silence, hoping I could milk this into a five-minute break. But then it dawned on me: I’ve suddenly become the adult at the playground with no kid. Awesome. Am I mentally challenged or a pedophile or just sort of a generally sadult trying to recapture her childhood? Is there a best option in that scenario?

“At least nobody can see me at the new low I’ve reached,” I console myself, just as this nosy old lady spots me sans child and scopes me out suspiciously. Then the 6-year-old wakes up from his self-imposed nap and slides down the slide.

“It’s ok, Ruth, she has a kid with her,” she calls to Ruth. BECAUSE WHY WOULDN’T SHE.

I’ve never felt more like a MR. F. Ever. Not even the time last year when I dropped my can of soda at the deli, then whacked my head on the counter picking it up, then hit my elbow on the same counter when I went to grab my new forehead egg.

Please, seriously, strike me dead.

You win again, Interwebs

There's really nowhere I can go with this Match email. I'm totally outwitted. And also curious about this trip to moon I've been hearing so much about.


well, i want to go out and paint the town red!!!!!
i dont want to fall in love kind relations!!
JUST have FUN!!! party!!!
unless the the girl of my dream appears in my way to get??????
married!!
yes i said marriage!!
but i dont think i can find my dreams in the earth. i am trying to buy on of this trips to moon, hope to find her!!!

Putting the rath in Rathbones

Food inspires a lot of emotions in me. The emotion of hunger mostly. But also happiness! It’s all smiles times when there’s dinner afoot.

It takes a lot for food to inspire rage. This is the girl who once went on a first date and was completely happy eating a bowl of leeks because it was the only non-meat item on the menu.

As I’ve covered, white chocolate, raisins, licorice and cooked green peppers make me feel all punch-y. Sandwiches were not on that list until yesterday.

I went to a bar with friends for a two-for-one drink deal, and I know that when it’s beer that gets you in the door you shouldn’t complain the lack of gourmet cuisine BUT that’s not going to stop me from pointing out that two slices of unbuttered toast with melted Kraft singles (presented open-faced) does not constitute a grilled cheese sandwich on this or any other planet. When I order a grilled cheese, I expect to see Jesus' - or at least Mother Teresa's - mug all up in there.

And when you charge $8 for the plastic-cheese toast and notice the customer has only eaten one bite, you – the waitress – shouldn’t bother to argue that it was, in fact grilled cheese because the bread was grilled and had cheese on it.

Argh, foiled by semantics again.

Can I just point out that you can’t just start breaking down foods into their literal meanings? If I ordered Grape Nuts and got a bowl of gapes and walnuts, or if I wanted to snack on some tasty peanuts and got a bowl of snap peas and cashews IT WOULDN’T BE THE SAME THING.

Not smiles times. Not smiles times at all.

What the hell is wrong with me? Vol. 2 (James Blunt edition)*

*Bring on the lawsuit, Jacob.


Welcome to my nightmare.

Know how everyone is all like “Why doesn’t MTV ever play music?” Look, I’m as enraged as everyone by Spencer and the scary plastic face he’s got going on, but I don’t need more music videos in my life. Why? Because this was my day after hearing the James Blunt song “1973” or as I venture to guess the original title was, “Beautiful 1973.”

It’s been not just a pleasant soundtrack in my head, it’s been getting in the way of me functioning.

Bus driver: Good morning.
Me: …Wish I was sober, so I could see clearly now, the rain has gone.
Bus driver: It’s 9 a.m. I’m not sober either.

Friend: Hey, Kate, wanna meet up for dinner later?
Me: Simona, You're getting older. Your journey's been etched on your skin.
Friend: Excuse me? You’ll have crow’s feet too someday.

Grocery store girl: Here’s your change, miss.
Me: … And we sang, "Here we go again". And though time goes by I will always be in a club with you in 1973 Singing, "Here we go again."
GSG: Do I know you?

James Blunt, you and your falsetto are ruining my life. And I don't even need to go into the logic of you being like a fetus in 1973.

Communist boys

Communist Boy (noun): 1. He's smart, funny, just your type, but somehow it's not clicking. 2. A relationship that should, by all logic, work. It looks flawless on paper, like communism.

An open letter to the FCC about the old ladies at my gym

Hey there, old ladies! I'm not clear how your mother, Vogue, religion or society in general dropped the ball in filling you with a healthy self-loathing about your body, but where did we go wrong here?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m really excited about being as old as you someday and no longer giving a flying crap about who I insult or whose toes I crush with my Rascal. But here’s a rule of thumb: If your body looks like you spend your days writing letters to the FCC about the foul mouth on the little boy from Two and a Half Men, perhaps you ought to not frolic about the gym locker room .

I know I should be applauding you for being all active at your advanced ages, but I promise, there’s NO NEED for you to parade around naked. It seriously challenges my ability to keep my food down when I turn from getting stuff from my locker and I’m face to droopy boob with you. Call Dr. 90210, become a recluse or just take a page from the rest of us and put a damn towel around your offensive self.

In honor of what I presume you do all day, here’s my letter about you to the FCC about you:

Dear FCC,

As a concerned citizen, I applaud the many censoring moves you’ve made to improve airwaves. America’s children do not need to see breasts before their wedding night. (This goes for young men and young women.) Likewise, they do not need to be saying the F word, the S word, the R word or h-e-double-hockey-sticks. It’s best to ensure they never hear these words at all.

Can we have another Depression please to teach them about life?

And also, can you please start using your powers in real life as well? It’s all fine and well if primetime is cleaned up, but what good does that do if we just hear these words and see offensive images in our daily lives?

Please start with the old ladies at my gym who walk around naked. They are offensive on many levels. That form of nudity should not – must not – be celebrated or encouraged. It diminishes my quality of live and concerns me for my own future when I look at all that appalling sagging.

American flags!

Sincerely,

Kate
P.S. These colors don’t run!

P.P.S. Good job with the whole Janet Jackson thing. Truly your finest hour. I was disgusted when I saw her flash us the first time, but when I relived it on cable the next 9,000 times, I got progressively less appalled each time.

Jiminy Carter!

I saw Jimmy Carter last night. Or as the girl behind me kept calling him "Jiminy Carter." Like the cricket.

It’s gotta make you feel like a pimp to be (I assume) 94 and still get security detail and decoy cars. All I want in life is a string of decoy cars.

He might look like he stuffs his pockets with Werthers Originals, but clearly people are out to assassinate him at a moment’s notice. People who hate humanity being habitated. Even if they aren’t exactly sure how to pronounce his name.

Getting to know your friendly neighborhood blogger

1. Name
Kate

2. Birthday
Sept. 8. Yeah, you missed it. Feel bad?

3. Do you have tattoos & how many
No and none. Kinda want a shamrock.

4. Do you have piercings & how many
Yes, three in my ears. I was a super rebellious teen. Ovbs.

5. Ethninc background
My “ethninc” background? I freckle.

6. Do you have any phobias
No, but I get violently angry when people chew loudly. I also have an aversion to lots of holes in things, like mesh. Makes me queasy.

7. Do you like thunderstorms
Yes! I hate sunshine. Also flowers and the sound of children's laughter.

8. Do you dance in the rain
No, because I'm not mentally ill or in love in a musical.

9. What is your weakness
Am I a supervillian!? My weakness is flan.

10. Do you dye your hair
No, not after I accidentally dyed it black for my sister's wedding so I looked like a long-lost Ramone. That was following my (intentionally) dying it blonde in college as a feature story to see if people treated me differently. Verdict: I got a few marriage proposals, but I think it's because it was such an obvious dye job it looked like I had low self-esteem. I looked like an Eastern European hooker.

11. Who do you think is the most intelligent person that ever lived
Clearly the person who put these questions together.

12. Do you get along with your parents
Yes, but I'm several states away, so it makes it different.

13. Have you ever made a wish on a shooting star
Again, no. Not mentally ill or in a Disney movie.

14. Name one person you miss more then anything (that's still alive)
My sister! Mostly because she forgave me for looking like a Ramone at her wedding. Also, she lets me call her like 14 times a day even when I have nothing to say.

15. How do you want to die
Same way I want to give birth: Heavily drugged.

16. Ford, Dodge, or Chevy
Metro Card. Rephrase the question? Here's a story: When we moved to Kentucky when I was 14, I knew I wasn't at the right high school for me because there was a fight in the hallway between a guy who was drawing Ford logos in the margins of his history notebook and a guy drawing Chevy logos. An honest-to-God fight! It was a long four years.

17. Country or City
I suffer from an acute case of reverse claustrophobia where I get antsy and uneasy in wide-open spaces. I like to be hugged by tall buildings.

My perfect Guy:

18. Hair color
Grey and thinning

19. Eye color
Does anyone dismiss someone because of eye color? You do have to bring the 20/20 though. My kids won't wear glasses.

20. Tattoos
So many

21. Piercings
Yes, infected if possible. I like to tend to the infirmed.

22. Clothing style
Straight up sk8er boi or gold prospector

23. Older or younger then you
Near death

24. Smoker
See above

25. Can you take them home to Mom
I'd love to meet a guy who'll embarrass me by burping a lot at the table, maybe even yelling at my parents, someone who'll really drive a wedge between me and my whole family. That would be hot.

26. Are they funny
Oh Christ no.

27. Are they like you or your opposite
To sum up: I'd like an elderly smoking skater/prospector near death who hates my family and is the opposite of me in every way. They do have to like Fords though. That's non-negotiable. Dear Diary, will I ever meet such a man?

28. Has anyone ever wrote a song about you
Actually, yes, someone "has wrote" a ditty about the blog. It was like 8 bars. One of my life goals is to have someone write a real song about me. Kate rhymes with so much stuff! Get on this, you guys.

29. Have you ever been on stage
Oh God, here we go. I was in a pageant named after a cake mix in high school. I wore a blue sparkly dress. I did not win, which means I didn't get to cut the ribbon at the next day's world's largest brownie attempt. Oy, what a girl will do for a chance at a scholarship.

30. Have you ever done anything you saw on Jackass
No, you know why? Because of MyDeathSpace.com. Half the deaths on there are because kids attached rope to the back of their trucks and spun their friend on a merry go round until they flew off. Half the deaths!

31. Have you ever snorted a pixie stix
Pixie stix, no. Altoids, yes. Is that what the kids are doing now?

32. Have you ever done stupid things in a shopping cart
How vague and random.

What the hell is wrong with me? Vol. 1

Time for my new favorite game: What the hell is wrong with me?

In future issues, we’ll examine why other people drinking tea makes me so angry, why I suspect I might have weekend diabetes, why I sometimes wake up with curly hair, and why I think things are purpleish when everyone else in the room says it’s blue or pink.

But first, let’s tackle why I constantly think my phone is ringing. I probably reach for it 20 times a day because I think I hear those first few “dee DE dodolee deee” trilling out of it. But, just like in a horror movie, nobody’s there. (I guess, strictly speaking, in a horror movie, the caller would be inside my purse, but there’s no time for logic when I have problems like this going on.)

It’s not tinnitus because it’s not constant. It strikes when a note similar to the first “dee” of my ringtone is struck somewhere in the vicinity. From experience, I’ve learned these include most, if not all, songs; children’s tiny voices; laughter; espresso machines; horns and squealing breaks.

Next time we’ll tackle why I could watch people push on “pull” doors (and vice versa) all day.