Sometimes I out-blonde myself. 

For those of you who are new to the Kat-scene, I was blonde until the age of 20.

But in the here and now, this evening, I got trapped on my patio. 

How does one do such a thing? you wonder.

Well, despite the fact that I live on the third (and top) floor of my building, I have a fire poker in my patio door frame.  For the obvious and intuitive reason that if an intruder with Spiderman-like abilities were to try and bust into my apartment in the middle of the night, I would be woken up.  You know, before they made it in.  Safety first.  Or something.

Exhibits A & B.

The way the poker was balanced in the door frame, when I pulled the porch door closed behind me (I had the air conditioner on), it slid back into the position pictured above.  I’ve been losing the pounds, but squeezing through a six-inch crack is not what I envision when I think of my goal weight.

Ironically, I just told y’all about my desert island item, the tweezers.  Today?  I was obviously trapped without those.  Rather, my provisions were a glass of water, brie + crackers, my BlackBerry and a copy of French Women Don’t Get Fat.

I could have done worse.


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