goblins, quests, and my gentleman.

You may have seen his photo on here before.


html_codingHe also founded/contributes to/works on this:

rotary house experimental – it’s his awesomely creative publishing house.

you should investigate.

This clever & handsome gentleman and I officially met at work, but it wasn’t until a work happy hour that we actually spoke to one another. We didn’t start speaking regularly until one day soon after, a group of us were walking to lunch and Matt noticed I was purposely avoiding walking on the storm drains.

cartoon_storm draincartoon_storm draincartoon_storm draincartoon_storm draincartoon_storm draincartoon_storm draincartoon_storm drain

{Matt didn’t yet realize it, but it was only a matter of time until he succumbed to my charm. and overactive imagination}

Several weeks later, Matt had lunch with a friendly squirrel named Jerry. Jerry is oh-so-much more than just a squirrel – he is in charge of protecting the portal which leads from our world into the squirrel kingdom.

black_squirrel{look at his golden tail – serious business}

Obviously, Jerry guards the portal for a reason – and over the next couple months, the truth came out. Our worlds are on the brink of an enormous goblin/squirrel war, and Matt and I had been recruited to help.

First, however, in order to make sure we were worthy of entering the portal and joining the squirrels in their fight, we had to complete quests of Jerry’s choosing. Jerry would meet with Matt, and pass along important quest details: maps, locations, objects to find. The two of us would then traipse off, clutching our maps and lists, off to find and defeat goblins.

Once, as we were trying to collect goblin currency, we were attacked: Matt brained a goblin* with a rock and I stabbed it with a tree branch.

{*Matt would visit the pre-determined location beforehand and plant paper goblins in bushes or trees, then be ‘surprised’ when we discovered them hours later. He’ll never admit to it, though : ) }

goblin_drawingOur outings were serious adventures.

On our first actual date, we drove around for hours on a warm summer night. Matt’s plan was to get lost, and get lost we did. We had a lovely time – peering out the car windows into creeks we drove past, looking for frogs with a flashlight; stopping at an old horse farm to investigate their hollow pillars and horse statue; finding old dirt roads to drive on under the moon. It was fun and silly and romantic.

I started writing this post about a month ago, and the original ending was this:

The rest – well, the rest leads us to today, several days past our seven month anniversary, and we are completely, enormously, head-over-heels happy.

that’s not the end of the story.

on the very day I started writing this post, January 21st, Matt and I had a date night.

A very special date night.












give books.

My boyfriend’s name is Matt, and he is lovely. He has not yet been properly introduced here, but he will be soon. Here is a picture of him:

Last week, I’d forgotten my book at home when rushing out the door for work. My book is the only thing between me and hundreds of dead-eyed commuter drones riding the MARC train between Baltimore and DC. Every. Single. Day. And riding the train without it is the cruelest form of torture.

Matt leaves work at 4:30, and I leave at 5. On this particular day, he told me he was leaving a bit early, and we said goodbye. A few minutes before I was packing up to leave the office, I got a mysterious text message:

Excitedly, I rushed to the train station. There, waiting on the platform, was Matt. Smiling, he drew me to the side, reached into his bag, and pulled out a book. Not just any book, but a book by RA Salvatore. He had rushed from work to his favorite secondhand bookstore in Dupont Circle and raced back to meet me before I left to catch my train, choosing a book he knew I would love, by an author I’m currently devouring. Most amazing boyfriend in the world universe.


* which book, you ask? why, the thousand orcs, my friends! feast your eyes and PREPARE FOR AN ORC INVASION!

these orcs means serious business.

why you should never let your boyfriend hold your taser.

My brother gave me a taser for my birthday one year. It wasn’t terribly strong – you’d have to hold its metal prongs against someone’s skin for about 10 seconds before they’d drop, but it made a really nice crackling noise and watching the electricity jump from prong to prong was exciting.

While I hoped, of course, I’d never actually need to use it against an attacker, I couldn’t help but want to taser someone with it. Just for a few seconds. Okay, until they dropped. Who wouldn’t?

My biggest fear was that I’d accidentally taser myself when reaching into my purse to grab my wallet. It’s never been my desire to be hit with jolts of electricity that would then course through my body, causing me to fall unconscious and potentially soil myself.

I managed to keep myself safe from the taser’s prongs of danger for many months, until one weekend I brought both the taser and myself to visit my college boyfriend in Pennsylvania. Brimming with Keystone Light, my boyfriend and his friends persuaded me to let them borrow the taser, and took turns zapping each other, giggling and drinking and shouting encouragement. Watching people being tasered is fine entertainment. Unfortunately, my boyfriend decided he and his friends were being selfish, hogging all the tasering fun, and he generously decided to include me in the festivities.

And that, my friends, is why you should never let your boyfriend hold your taser – he will become so enthused with its electrical prowess and the possibility of rendering someone unconscious that he will surprise taser you in the leg.

hostel bathrooms are sometimes full of (imaginary) terror.

The following story is one many of our readers may be familiar with, as it’s one I enjoy sharing despite the fact I nearly died of fright while living through it.

My boyfriend at the time, James, and I were in Bali with a group of friends during a Korean holiday (we all worked at the same school in Paju, and had decided to go on a group trip). We’d flown into Jakarta, and had made our way to one of the Gili Islands, Gili Trawangan. The island is so small there are no police, and miniature horses wearing bells and pulling tuk-tuks rein supreme.

We were staying in rather shifty hostel. My ex and I were sharing a room home to many spiders, with the kind of floor you don’t want to put your bare feet on. The bathroom was frightening. It was long and narrow, covered in dingy blue tile. There was one lightbulb dangling from a string, and it was damp and musty. The movie “Saw” managed to capture this hostel bathroom perfectly:

Minus the blood. Needless to say, I didn’t spend much time in it. Our first night, we got into bed and I put my glasses on the floor next to me. Legally blind, I can’t see anything clearly if it’s further than two inches from my face. This bothers me sometimes, as I worry about things creeping up on me in the darkness, and I won’t be able to see them coming.

I was fast asleep when James nudged me.

  • James (whispering): Wake up!
  • Me: Ehhhh
  • James: Katie, wake up!
  • Me: What?
  • James:There are two men standing in the doorway to our bathroom.
  • Me: WHAT?!
  • James: Zzzzzzzzz [had fallen back asleep]

After I’d determined James really was fast asleep and would be of no use if someone attacked, I lay like a corpse, hoping I was invisible to the men in the doorway. I didn’t want to risk any movement, so retrieving my glasses from the floor was out of the question. I lay awake the rest of the night, next to my snoring ex-boyfriend, petrified, expecting at any moment to be slaughtered. The next morning, when confronted, my ex had no recollection of waking up at all, and no idea what I was talking about.

college boyfriends are crafty.

My college boyfriend had/has a slightly demented sense of humor. After discovering a horrificially foul pornographic photo which will remain unnamed, he thought I might appreciate seeing it for myself. I didn’t. Finding my reaction funny, he sent the link several more times until I asked him to stop. Instead of stopping, he got sneaky: he would change the text of the hyperlink to ensure I would click the link.


I have to admit, it was clever. What normal human being wouldn’t click on a link that indicated it would send you to a photo of a baby seal?

Happy Friday, friends! Enjoy your weekend!

rock, scissor, panty

originally posted on ‘katie vs chris’

i was up in pennsylvania for the weekend, visiting my college boyfriend. we’d recently gotten back together for the second – or possibly third – time. we had an … interesting relationship. this is the guy who once called me while my roommate and i were watching tv, heard the male character voices in the background, and accused me of cheating on him with multiple men. it would have been kinda funny, had that sort of thing not happened fairly regularly.

anyway, i digress. there i am in pennsylvania, having driven six hours from my school on the east coast (of maryland), and there are a pair of girl’s panties hanging from my boyfriend’s ceiling.

i was furious. when i asked him to take them down, he refused. he said they were some sort of joke, and he and his roommate liked having them there. i asked him again to please take them down, and he laughed. so i ripped them off the ceiling and cut them into tiny pieces with a pair of kitchen shears.

he was horrified. i was, too, but for a different reason – i’d accidentally cut the top of my thumb off in a blind scissor rage, and i was bleeding all over the carpet. he fled the room, undoubtedly to tell his cronies what a psycho his girlfriend was, and i sat on his bunk, feeling rather pleased and rebellious, once i staunched the bleeding.

he eventually wandered back to inform me that particular pair of underwear was the random girls favorite, and she wanted them back. i suggested a girl who makes a habit of “lending” her favorite panties to random guys deserves what she gets.

to this day, i’m still pleased with myself.