That Guy

Before I post, I want to say that I'm completely aware of the fact that all I write about on my blog these days is my work and the Bachelorette. And I'm just going to admit straight out that this is because these are the only 2 things that I have time to focus on. Summer will be over soon and then I'll develop some outside interests, but for now, you'll have to read about those two things or take a hiatus from Kate-world. (And I know you can't do that.)

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I love my job for a lot of reasons, including but not limited to the fact that they give me cookies at every lunch, I sing Beyonce very loudly at least once a day, and I get to play on walkie-talkies with my friends and claim it's work-related.

But one of the main reasons I love my job is the extreme amount of people that I get to meet every week. I love people. Especially funny, crazy, weird people. And as a group, Young Life leaders are all of those things. (Also, passionate, loving, dedicated, and open-minded.)

However, we all have our moments when we are complete tools, and sometimes we like ourselves a little too much.

Which brings me to the introduction of one of my favorite general camp personalities ever. I introduce to you:

The Meathead Leader Who is Shirtless Inappropriately Often

Every week this guy emerges. You know him. He works out. A lot. And he wants to show you the fruits of his labor.

You first notice him at the pool. How could you miss him as he struts around the pool deck in his board shorts with his full-back tribal tat on display.

Oh, you notice him. And he notices you noticing. He's harboring the false illusion that you're liking what you see, while you are trying valiantly to swallow the little bit of throw-up that's working it's way up your throat.

And then you see him again. Headed for the zip-line. Still shirtless. And you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. Because you realize you're a little judgy, and he is participating in a water event. So maybe he's just really into physical fitness. You have a change of heart.

Later that day, there he is again. Playing frisbee golf. This time in cut-off jorts. Still no shirt. You spend some time contemplating whether or not he's serious about his fashion choices or if it's some kind of non-funny joke.

You run into him later that night and, to your surprise and pleasure, he's wearing a shirt! Oh, how you start to think you may have pre-judged him. You feel convicted. He's probably a nice guy.

Oh, wait. What's that? Someone sprayed him with a water gun? I think you can guess what's going to happen. Shirtless again! Who cares that everyone else is in sweatshirts and jeans because it's nighttime in Northern Arizona? He wants to be free of anything that would keep you from checking out his bitchin' bod.

At this point, I say, judge away! Nobody should be shirtless that often. And let me tell you now, fellas, we're not impressed.

P.S. Don't ever type "jorts muscle man" into google images. You will be scarred for life.

Song of the Day: Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri