I Promise I Don’t Drive 90 mph, Mom

The Toll Road.

Honestly I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be capitalized, but, for the purpose of this post, I’ll leave it as such.

The Toll Road can be a myriad of things: an emotional outlet for you to scream alone in your car, a time for you to be alone with your thoughts (lame), a stretch of road that allows for you to appreciate the beauty of Texas… The list goes on.

However, that last one is untrue because let’s face it. The Toll Road landscape is just super ugly. Yeah the speed limit is 80 and that’s fabulous, but I have to assume that’s because Speed Limit Deciders (actual title) know how boring the Toll Road is and they want you to be able to get out ASAP.

When I drive from Waco to Boerne or vice versa, my Toll Road journey is about an hour. During my most recent drive, I decided that the Toll Road is what I think Purgatory must be like.

Think on that for a second. Purgatory is not necessarily good or bad; time just…….goes on.

From henceforth, I shall refer to the Toll Road as Purgatollroadatory.

(According to the Interweb, Purgatory is actually bad, but that messes up my comparison. And who doesn’t love a good pun? Work with me folks.)


Purgatollroadatory is needing to go to the bathroom solely because you know you can’t. There are no rest stops (or civilization) throughout the entire hour. Even if you don’t initially have to go to the bathroom, you convince yourself that you do because that’s just the way life works. It’s like craving Chick-fil-A on a Sunday. And after you make that comparison while driving, you have to go to the bathroom and now you’re also hungry.



Purgatollroadatory is the paranoia that every other car is a cop. The speed limit is 80 (so you obviously go 90) and that’s swell, but driving that fast programs your mind to assume you could be pulled over at any moment. Every other vehicle on the road becomes a (not)cop. You see a Honda in the rear view mirror – policeman?! Nah just a (not)cop. Just got passed by a green Chevy – is it the po-po?! Nah just a (not)cop. Ugh I hate 18-wheelers OH WAIT is that the Fuzz?! Nah just a (not)cop. This constant state of terror makes for a rather unpleasant drive.



Purgatollroadatory is the absence of phone service. I don’t know about you but Spotify and Pandora are useless to me on this road. I’m left with the ancient art of radio. I have to settle for stations lousy with static that exclusively play a combo of Shake It Off and All About That Bass. Pepper in the occasional Beyonce and you’ve got the recipe for a seriously feminist roadtrip. But then you start feeling too womanly and empowered and, by no fault of your own, you’re going 92 and you see 8 more (not)cops. The cycle continues.


***Or you have spotty service which is actually worse because now you’re in fear of both random song-stops (at the best parts of all the songs) and (not)cops.


Purgatollroadatory is when the sun is riiiiight out of reach of the flip visor thing. I used to believe the earth rotated around the sun throughout the day. However, I know now that this was naïve. The sun can actually sense when you are on the Toll Road, and it makes the executive decision to remain in your eyes throughout the hour. In fact, it could be 11 at night and the sun will make its way back up to your driver’s side window just in time for you to enter Purgatollroadatory.



Purgatollroadatory is an unchanging, fixed, static, monotonous setting. You may notice I just added a few synonyms for “unchanging” to make the previous sentence more dramatic; sometimes I’m redundant. And repetitive. Anyways, since the setting is unchanging, you have to find another way to distract yourself in order to pass the time. You decide to create a mental to-do list.

But pretty soon, your to-do list overtakes your mental capacity and then you realize it only took three minutes to completely overwhelm yourself and now you still have 57 long minutes to drive and deal with the sweaty panic attack you’ve triggered.



Purgatollroadatory is that one car. There’s always that one car. That one car you pass, and then they change into your lane so they can tailgate you for a few seconds (I guess to teach you a lesson?) and then change back and pass you. You could ignore them but the competitive middle school athlete in you takes the bait and y’all keep passing each other and cutting each other off until either you lose interest or an inevitable (not)cop enters your peripheral vision. It becomes exhausting.


Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy many aspects of the Toll Road, and I certainly prefer it to driving through lovely a-3-hour-drive-becomes-a-17-hour-drive Austin. But to me, the Toll Road is just an hour of nothing. An hour of waiting. Not good, not bad, just waiting.



Anyone up for a roadtrip?!


Hello Sleeves, Goodbye Happiness

As a bright-eyed, eager freshman, I wanted to stay fit and healthy in college (as a fatigued, dazed senior, I’m too tired to even come up with a goal like that right now). Before leaving for Baylor, I purchased a bunch of really cute, lightweight athletic tank tops to wear/attract friends while attempting to be athletic. ROOKIE MISTAKE.

The Baylor SLC has an anti-sleeveless policy.

I’m sure there is solid reasoning behind this law, but I choose to believe its main purpose is to passive aggressively shame unsuspecting freshmen. So here’s me reminiscing about my first time at the SLC in the form of a poem. Obviously I’m not bitter.



Texas summertime’s (and all other seasons) are the hottest,
So naturally it’s far too warm outside to dress in a way that is modest.


I’ve heard it’s common to gain weight in your first freshman semester,
So in the back of my mind, this impending threat certainly did fester.


In order to prevent this, I’ll add exercising to my routine,
It will be habitual – like brushing my teeth and applying sunscreen.


So today I’ve made the decision to exercise,
I’ll be restless and anxious all day otherwise.


Because even though the weather is disgusting,
My workout schedule can’t afford adjusting.


This morning I consumed a lot of caffeine,
I shall transfer that energy onto a workout machine.


Oh, the SLC! I’ll go to the SLC! Oh the calories I’ll burn,
And a happier, healthier woman I soon shall return.


Then again, the air outside feels like fire,
But it’s cool because inside, I can wear my summer attire!


I will put on my Nike shorts and a super cute tank top,
For if I had to wear sleeves, the sweat just wouldn’t stop.


Nervous and self-conscious, I walk through the door,
I hand an employee my ID that verifies I am Katie Moore.


He swipes my card and looks me up and down,
I smile at him and he shoots back a frown.


“You can’t wear a shirt with no sleeves, you fool.”
I was unaware; apparently this is actually a rule!


I exclaim, “But it’s so hot and I sweat quite a lot!”
He explains that it does not matter, it simply does not.


Dejected and disheartened, I exit the workout facility,
I can’t help but relive my embarrassment and humility.


All I wanted to do was burn a calorie or two,
I just don’t understand all that hullabaloo.


It’s not as if my tank top was in any way revealing,
I was treated like a person accused of murder or stealing!


But alas, I would surely faint if I tried to run outside,
Therefore by this cruel and unusual decree I must abide.

Keeping Up With The Mooredashians

My family has never really been on board with my infatuation with “Keeping Up With The Kardashians.” (Coincidentally, neither has anyone else I know.) I try to tell them how alike we are and how our families should meet and take vacations – ridiculously lavish ones – together. Since they won’t believe me and refuse to watch it with me (except you Jake: I know you claim that I withhold the remote, but I like to think you actually enjoy watching the Kardashians with me), I’ve decided to assign each of us a Kardashian and spell out the similarities. So enjoy these accurate comparisons.


Mom: Kim Kardashian (diva/main Kardashian)
They are both by far the hottest in their respective families. Kim is also the subtle leader of the fam, whether or not anyone wants to admit it. Who are the Kardashian’s without Kim? Who are the Moore’s without Jackie? Well, they’d probably all be living in a box somewhere on the side of the road in Amsterdam. (That was the first location to come to my mind – we probably wouldn’t make it to Amsterdam as flights are expensive and we would have no leader.) Either way, you wouldn’t watch the show without Kim. She and Jackie are the glue that hold us all together.


Dad: Brandon Jenner (Bruce’s son that isn’t Brody)

Brandon, Brody Jenner’s lesser known brother, is rarely on the show – probably by choice. He has actually made something of his life and has been relatively successful, probably due to his constant absence from the Kardashian family gatherings. He also plays golf.

I know I know, my dad’s actual name is Kim but it just didn’t work out. Feel free to argue your case if your opinion is that my dad is similar to Kim Kardashian. I’ll make sure he’s there when you lay out your reasons.


Jake Moore: Scott Disick (Kourtney’s kind of boyfriend/husband?/he’s always around)
This one is pretty obvious. Scott is the suave prepster frat daddy of the fam. He makes the family a little less boring and a little more gaudy. He dresses to the nines and sometimes uses a cane. Have you ever read a classier sentence? Scott and Jake are both just a little cooler than everyone else. The law doesn’t apply to them. What is adversity? They don’t know the meaning.

Scott is like Justin Timberlake plus some substance abuse and sprinkled with accusations of being a sociopath. Jake is Scott minus these traits so I guess we’ve ultimately concluded that Jake is Justin Timberlake.


Jenni Moore: Mason Dash Disick (Kourtney & Scott’s baby son)
Mason is bar none the most adorable member of the family. He is also the most relatable. Everyone listens to what he has to say because, let’s be honest, he’s the sage of the group. Both Jenni and Mason contribute sensibility to the clan and make jokes beyond the combined comprehension of their families.


Katie Moore: Khloe Kardashian (Kim’s sister, she will always just be “Kim’s sister”)
Khloe is everyone’s favorite Kardashian. She makes fun of everyone and her mission in life is to make others as uncomfortable as possible. She is hilarious and sassy and gives every conversation an inappropriate spin. I don’t really know if we have that much in common but she’s my favorite and I didn’t want anyone to have to be Kris Jenner. Oh wait! I do think I’m destined to marry an NBA player, and I really liked her wedding dress. There! Common ground!


Tony: Kourtney Kardashian (Kim’s other other sister)
Kourtney and Tony are sarcastic, manipulative and by far the most lovable. They are quick to point out everyone’s flaws and tricking them into liking you is a massive victory in my book.

Timmy: Bruce Jenner (Kris Jenner’s maid/husband)
Have either of them ever made a decision on their own? Bruce and Timmy really just need to grow a pair. Like, be a man. Both of you.

Jasmine (the Moore’s third dog): Kendall Jenner (one of the brunette younger sisters)
Jasmine and Kendall have the prettiest hair but everyone just seems to forget about them.


Sterling Moore: a combination of Jack Donaghy and Chandler Bing
Quite frankly there is no Kardashian who shares traits with Sterling. I think that’s fair to say. This is not a bad nor a good thing. It’s just the truth.


So there’s that, we are all a bunch of peas in a very large pod. I like to think it would be a life-long friendship.

One difference though: while the Kardashians are funny to watch, I refuse to believe their family group messages are more entertaining than ours. Their Christmas cards, yes. But not their group messages. That’s our thing.

It’s Not Weird That I Blogged About This

I have this friend – we’ll call him Tony (because that’s his name). Tony is small, but what he lacks in size he makes up for in wit. He is clever and cunning and WAY cuter than his bigger and older brother Timmy. Timmy is bordering on obesity and completely self-unaware.

Fine they’re my dogs. Timmy and Tony are our shih tzus and yes, they are named after Tim Duncan and Tony Parker. To say we are obsessed with the Spurs is a bit of an understatement – my middle name on Facebook was Manu Ginobili until popular opinion was that that’s weird. So naming our dogs after the Spurs is a relatively normal thing for us to do.

What’s weirder than their names is how much time we spend analyzing them. Ok how much time I spend analyzing them. This summer I had a lot of free time and very few friends near me so, yeah, I spent an inappropriate amount of time hanging out with my dogs.

Timmy and Tony are complete opposites. People seem to think they are basically the same dog and this is insulting. I don’t believe Timmy has ever had an original thought. Tony, on the other hand, is incredibly manipulative and deceitful. However, he is my favorite. While he is cold toward everyone and extremely selective with the wags of his tail, he is the master of his own fate. Timmy begs to be loved by everyone while Tony holds people at a distance until he resentfully grants permission.

It’s not that I don’t love Timmy. It’s just that I don’t respect him.

Even their facial expressions are contrasting. Timmy has a permanent, mindless, toothy grin plastered across his face – in good times and bad. This is a seemingly admirable trait, but it’s actually annoying because there is no reason for it. Why are you smiling? There is literally no rationale for this smile. Nothing is happening right now. Stop. It’s irritating.

Tony, alternatively, always appears to be peering out of the corner of his eye – never quite looking at anything straight on. This, though, is not out of fear or hesitation, but rather it’s a result of the way he approaches everything in life. He is contemplative, cautious, always prudent. Of course, Tony takes risks occasionally but they are always calculated and rarely impulsive.

“Dancing Through Life” from Wicked depicts Timmy.

(While that is my favorite song from Wicked, I’d rather not be around someone who actually lives that way. Like, have goals.)

If I were to choose one word to describe each of them, Tony’s would be “indifferent” and Timmy’s would be a word that means “doesn’t have thoughts, barely exists.” I’m still on a search for that particular word. Maybe a French word?

If you were to try to pet Timmy, he would oblige immediately. Are you a serial killer? Have you robbed an elderly person? Unimportant. You are welcome to pet me says Timmy. Tony (if it were at all realistic) would put you through a series of personality tests, physical fitness exams, possibly the MCAT, and even then wouldn’t be all too thrilled to have you petting him.

I’ll admit, sometimes it’s exhausting hanging out with Tony. I feel like I have to impress him, like I’m never good enough. But at the same time, it’s so rewarding when he actually looks me in the eye or acknowledges my presence. I could show Timmy “Old Yeller” and his expression wouldn’t change. That’s very revealing.

I love Timmy and Tony equally; I just like Tony more. Needless to say, I should probably stop typing and go hang out with my human friends.