This is one of the oddest juxtapositions I have seen (at least since I saw Jon Stewart talk about the CNN pic of the Saddam Hussein's sons' dead bodies with the crawl underneath saying, "Beyonce doesn't like the word 'bootylicious'" . . .)

On The Huffington Post this morning, I saw these headlines: "Congo: Africa's Other Holocaust" (complete with a pic of a child soldier), immediately followed by "StyleSLIDESHOW: Luxury Stays For Less This Winter Holiday" (with a pic of an oceanfront hotel patio). My brain is having a hard time processing.

I like warm weather as much as the next person, but these freakishly-warm-yet-wet conditions have contributed to something terrible (you know, besides the polar icecaps melting and all): crazy mutant mosquitoes hanging around in my house. Last night, Albert killed the biggest mosquito either of us has ever seen. But unfortunately, he didn't kill it before it bit me 10 times! Seven of these bites span a really small area from my left forearm to my left index finger (finger bites are the worst!!!) Four of them are on my FACE. WTF, mosquito! Thankfully, this mosquito was considerate enough to bite me three times on the underside of my chin so it doesn't look like I have advanced acne, but I've just found out that under-chin bites are as uncomfortable as finger bites. The worst news of all: I think I just saw another mosquito, but she got away!!! GRRRRR.

I wonder how long I will have to wait for the financial crisis to trickle down to me. I am really sad so many people lost so much money, but the good thing about living below the radar with nothing to lose is . . . well, that you've got nothing to lose.

I could have written this article. Especially this part:

Like most people I know in their 20s and 30s, it takes a stretch of the imagination to understand that I have a stake in the national economy. In terms of day-to-day life, my only ties to large financial institutions are a Bank of America checking account, a single low-limit high-fee Visa card, and a Kilimanjaro of student debt, which I have come to accept as something I will die with, not from, like a benign but grapefruit-size tumor or peaceable parasite dwelling in my large intestine. When people use scary terms like "unchartered territory" and "total meltdown," my first thought is, "Would an economic cataclysm wipe out my student debt? If so, then let's press reset and start the whole damn thing over! Burn it clean!"

I'm sorry to admit that my first reaction was similarly selfish: "Maybe my student loan will disappear!" My second thought was just as selfish: "Why doesn't the government bail out all my loans while they are at it?" Yup, totally selfish. That is what living below the radar will do to you. But maybe I have a point — why is the housing market so much more important than the education market? There is all kinds of predatory lending going in the world of student loans, as well. Just something to think about.

Friend: John Adams on HBO. I am dying now that my free HBO preview is over. LOVE IT.

Enemy: 3/4 length sleeves. Seriously — What is the point? I want a short sleeve or a long sleeve. I don't want an in-between sleeve. Right now all I want is a normal cardigan sweater in navy blue or brown that I can throw in my bag in preparation for the upcoming alternating hot and crazy over air-conditioned season. Why can't I find one? Why do they all have to be cropped or shrugged or bedazzled or 3/4 length? Gah.

And now I look like a brace-faced teenager with a monster zit. It itches like crazy, too.

Please read this. It's long, and it might make you feel angry, sad, nauseated or ashamed, but I think it needs be read.

I can't imagine what it is like to see a soldier laugh as someone you love dies. I can't imagine what it's like to be a soldier under so much pressure and stress in an unfamiliar place. I'm not going to pretend to know how war is supposed to work. But I know that all citizens need to be treated with dignity and respect, no matter what country they happen to be from. I know that killing innocent people is wrong, here or there. I thought we all knew that.

So, I am in the lobby of my work building today, which is partly residential and partly commercial. I follow someone else in and at first she refuses to let me come after her. I give her an "I can't believe you" look and then she asks pointedly, "Do you belong here?" I say yes, and then make a big show out of taking my keys out and opening my boss's mailbox. The lady looks embarrassed and starts mumbling about security and then says all snottily, "Well, I'm sure you appreciate my concern for the building's security." Actually, Ms. Bitchy, I don't. Because even if I were breaking into the building, I would have said I belonged there. Duh. And I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have said anything if I looked rich, which, obviously I do not. This is not the first time this has happened to me here, so let me spell it out for you richies: If you are so concerned with disheleved 20-somethings intruding on your property, get a freaking doorman. You're rich enough. God.

Surprise.

I am saddened, and honestly kind of numb about the violence that occurred at Virgina Tech today. But I am not surprised. I was shocked and horrified and scared when those little kids shot up their school in Jonesboro, Arkansas. I remember watching the endless coverage of that tragedy, by myself, after school in my parents' house. When Columbine occurred, I was about to graduate high school. I was really, really shocked and shook up by that and to this day, I can recite some of the news coverage word for word. Then, when that gunman took over the Amish school last year, I was shocked and horrified once again. But that particular shooting turned a switch in me. At the time, I tried to make sense of my feelings by writing a long, angry, rambling post which I never published. Perhaps I will revisit that post once the numbness of this current tragedy has worn off. Basically, the executions at the Amish school made me realize that we can expect more gun violence in schools in this country — even in the Amish countryside. Even on Native American reservations. Even at Virginia Tech. So when I heard the news today, I wasn't surprised. Saddened, yes, but not surprised.

I finally have dental insurance, even though it only covers exams and cleanings. I have never had teeth problems — I'm a total grinder, but my teeth have always been functional, if mildly crooked and not quite movie-star white. Imagine my surprise to learn that I actually have eight cavaties. Or had, I got them filled, thanks to the power of the credit card. This is not the worst part, however. The worst part is that a lifetime's worth of grinding has shifted my formerly slightly crooked teeth into so freaking crooked I actually require braces to prevent more cavaties in my overlapping teeth.

Being melodramatic, I immediately emailed my mother about why she never got me braces as a teenager (I actually wanted them then, I thought they made you look older and cool) and why I should have to plunge myself further into debt at this late date. She basically said, suck it up, baby, which is probably what I would tell my whiny-ass adult child as well. Especially since, at the age of 57, my mom is currently rocking braces herself. I guess I probably shouldn't wait that long.

Please shovel your fucking sidewalks.

Love and kisses,

Kate