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Wednesday, February 26, 2003

Solid motherfucking goldI think the toilets of the world are out to get me.

I know you are probably thinking, "Why, that Kat sure is crazy to think there is a worldwide conspiracy of toilets that are planning her imminent demise," but I am here to tell you that said conspiracy of toilets exists. Oh yes, they may seem innocent, just sitting there in the bathroom, uncomplaining, silently accepting whatever you give to them. But no! They have a secret toilet society which they use to plot the slow torture of individual toilet users, and for the last few years they have been focusing on me.

I have two different kinds of toilet-related woes. The first is the tendency for almost all toilets to immediately refuse to work properly when I come near them. These toilet conspirators obviously have obtained surveillance photos of my ass and have been instructing toilets around the country to act like they are stopped up whenever they see me approaching. You may think that perhaps I am overreacting and that it is my fault that I am plagued with toilet clogging problems wherever I go, but I can assure you that I do not produce excrement of abnormal size, shape, or consistency, nor do I use excessive amounts of toilet paper. And this has happened with different toilets, some of which I had only recently become acquainted with, and I would never grace a toilet with my fine, high-quality, individually crafted solid waste products if we were strangers. You have to ease into these relationships.

The other problem I have is with the automatic-flush toilets at my office. Now, I do not have any objection to automatic-flush toilets in principle, since their presence means there is one less gross surface that I have to touch in a public restroom. However, I think that the current technology employed in most automatic-flush toilets is either imperfect or it needs better security, because either they are malfunctioning or the evil toilet conspiracy is directing them to flush prematurely and/or at inopportune moments. For example, sometimes the toilets in my office building flush when people walk past an open stall. Is this supposed to be some kind of warning? An intimidation tactic, perhaps? Sometimes the toilet will flush when I have just put down the little paper toilet seat cover that is so thoughtfully provided by the management for my protection. I don't think the management would be very happy if they knew that these rogue toilets were wasting their fancy ass-protection gear like that. The most annoying inappropriately timed flushes are the ones that occur either while I am placing my glaringly white bum onto the repeatedly-covered seat, or while I am still micturating. These instances are how I know that the toilet conspiracy is after me. Obviously their ultimate goal is to make sure that somehow, my skin will have to come in contact with toilet water, either through inappropriate flushing or plunger backsplash.

Well, I'm not gonna take it anymore. I'm on to your game, toilet conspiracy! You'll stop this torture campaign if you know what's good for you. Don't make me bust out a cleaner that contains harsh chemicals that will damage porcelain!

babbled by Kat @ 11:32:00 AM | |

Sunday, February 23, 2003

Kali in one of her rare, non-face-licking momentsNormally, I try not to post two cute animal pictures in a row, but this is a special occasion. See, my friend Steve got married this weekend, and his dog Kali (pictured here) had a very important job as the ring bearer. As you can see, she took this job very seriously and the rings arrived at their destination unscathed. The rest of the wedding was a lot of fun and made me reconsider my formerly permanent stance of despising all weddings and wedding-related activities that do not take place on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. I realized that though weddings on a faux starship are preferable to all others, these non-starship weddings can be acceptable and downright enjoyable. Plus, Steve and his new wife Gina were really cute together, in a way that was quite pleasant and not at all nauseating. By the way, Steve, I didn't bring a gift to the wedding because I'm being all creative and thoughtful and crap and making you a brand new, original Kat creation from one of the photos I took. It may seem as though I'm being cheap, but you should realize that once I become SuperFamous™ the piece will increase in value by at least one whole dollar.

Now that I've finished editing all the wedding photos I took, I'm looking forward to an evening of homework and Grammy-watching. I'm sure that the Grammys will be 9,472% more interesting than the homework, because the class I am taking right now is covering a subject that I find entirely uninteresting. However, it is a degree requirement, so I have to take it. Hopefully I will summon up the motivation to stop goofing around on the intarweb and finish my homework so I can watch the Grammys in a semi-buzzed state thanks to the wine that Steve & Gina sent home with their guests. If anyone wants to volunteer to do my homework for me, I will give you two dollars and forty-seven cents, a zinc plated screw eyelet, and a pack of Trident whitening gum. I'd come up with a better prize package, but that's what is sitting on my desk right now, so it'll have to do.

babbled by Kat @ 4:36:00 PM | |

Thursday, February 20, 2003

FuzzyHi, I'm a fuzzy baby lion.

There are a lot of meetings and deadlines and tasty hot bagels going on at Kat's work today, so she asked me if I would write something for her. I said, what the heck, even though I'm only two weeks old, don't speak a lick of English, and am so tired from running around like a goober and doing other lion cub-like activities that I have to lean on my brother just to stay sorta upright, I will write a note to your massive reader base. Now, keep in mind, I don't speak, read, or write English, so you may not be able to understand what I am saying. Unless you speak baby lion, in which case I would like your phone number.

Just so you know, it is a lot of work being a baby lion. First of all, I am so cute that people stand around and look at me all day and go, "Aww," and I feel kind of compelled to do funny stuff to entertain them. I mean, if I was staring at, say, a baby seal, before I clubbed it I would want it to at least squirm around or roll over or something. It would get boring just looking at a baby animal that doesn't move. So I tumble around and play and chase my tail and stuff, and the people go, "OhmigodthatissocuteImightdierightnow!" and that makes me happy, because I hate people, and if they died that'd be cool with me. But then I get all wiped out and have to lean on my brother like he is some kind of furry pillow, and he's all annoyed because he's trying to catch the eye of that cute baby tiger across the room and he thinks I'm cramping his style. (By the way, she's totally out of his league, but I let the homely motherfucker think he's gonna get some play because it makes him feel good, and when he feels good he bites my tail less.)

I don't really know what else to talk about, mainly because I'm a two-week-old baby lion and I really don't have much life experience. All I know is the stuff I learn from the intarweb, which is turning me into a bitter bitch pretty quickly, but at least there are pictures of fur protesters and that snaggletoothed lady's boobs for me to look at. I like pictures instead of text since I can't read, but I wish I could read because Kat told me that there are some really good 'blogs out there that she keeps meaning to add to her permalinks because she reads them every day, but she's a lazy twat so she hasn't. If I understood how to edit a Blogger template I'd do it for her, but I am not only completely illiterate, I am totally in the dark about newfangled techiegeek stuff like HTML and CSS. I'm sure she will get around to it eventually, after she finishes all those totally important projects (read: incessant web surfing) that she's been working on so diligently (read: totally slacking off).

I have to go back to my cage now, because all those insufferable humans who stare at me and tell me I'm cute are coming back, and I think they'd be upset with me if they caught me using their computer to talk to you guys and look at lion porn. Don't tell on me.

babbled by Kat @ 9:55:00 AM | |

Tuesday, February 18, 2003

Maybe they should worry about their lack of asses instead of other people's fur wearing habits.I would like to let you know, if you are a person who will be asking me to spell my name for you because I am placing an order for a Thai hooker with my credit card, I will be spelling my name using the NATO phonetic alphabet from now on. In fact, I may just use this alphabet for everything I am asked to spell aloud. Not that I'm asked to spell things aloud much anymore, after I lost the Maricopa County regional spelling bee in the sixth grade by misspelling "conscientious", but I have memorized the phonetic alphabet in case a spontaneous spelling bee suddenly breaks out.

This is how you spell my first name:
Kilo Alpha Tango Hotel Lima Echo Echo November.

I don't know about you, but I think Echo Echo November is a great name for a band. I think we'll stick to '80s-style pop, and since I will obviously be the lead singer I will always sport a Flock of Seagulls haircut and/or a permed mullet.

This is how you spell my last name:
Mike Charlie Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo Echo Romeo November India Charlie Kilo Echo Lima.

I think Romeo November should be one of my bandmates. Since Echo Echo November is the name of the band, anyone in the band with the last name "November" has to be either the lead singer (which we've already established is ME) or someone who is and/or used to be married to the lead singer, so I must immediately marry someone that is named Romeo. Also, I must change my last name and force my new husband to adopt it.

We should also have someone in the band named Charlie Kilo, who will quite obviously need to have or obtain a cocaine habit the size of Marlon Brando's ass.

This is how you spell my girlfriend's first name:
Echo Lima India Zulu Alpha Bravo Echo Tango Hotel.

To stress Echo Echo November's commitment to ethnic diversity, our fourth band member will be named India Zulu. She will be a white girl from Ohio, but she will have taken at least one cultural studies class in college.

Tango Hotel should definitely be the first album by Echo Echo November, even though it sounds like it could be the title of a movie starring Bill Pullman. Perhaps the title track could be the theme song to the film. I will insist on receiving an executive producer credit.

Echo Echo November is sure to be a smashing success! Any interested parties with great fashion sense, marginal to mediocre musical talent, and a willingness to marry me and/or do mountains of blow should contact me immediately.

babbled by Kat @ 9:59:00 AM | |

Friday, February 14, 2003

I thought some nice titties would be an appropriate Valentine's Day giftToday is Valentine's Day, and in the spirit of the occasion I've decided to pretend that I'm not a bitter misanthrope who hates each and every one of you, and write something nice about some people I know. Of course, I provided a photo of some nice jugs for you to look at just in case you are as full of hate as I usually am and would rather just look at pretty pictures instead of reading anything remotely nice about anyone. If you don't mind taking a day off from your own bitter misanthropy, please enjoy my incessant babbling about my cool friends.

Kari is this really cool chick I met when I was engaging in the month-long torture-fest known as NaNoWriMo. She's really smart, eloquent, and totally smokin' hott. That's right, hott with TWO Ts. She also got me a present from my wishlist just because. She is going through some bad times at the moment, and she still finds time to be generous and sweet and just an all-around awesome chick. Plus, did I mention that she's really hot?

My friend Tony (no, not this Tony or this Tony but this Tony) kicks so much ass, in the figurative sense. He listens to me complain, gives me good advice, makes great comics, and is a total pimp. He even helped me with one of my presentations for this upcoming conference, and I didn't even have to give him a dollar. Plus, he drinks cosmopolitans, looks like he is fresh out of high school, is a self-confessed asshole and still gets more ass than a toilet seat. And he gives GREAT nap. Seriously.

Back in the day (like, a year ago), Alex and I used to hang out a lot. We did some comics together and I touched her inappropriately. Now we both have jobs and school and all manner of other things that make us unable to spend very much time together, but I still think about her a lot, and from what she says in her journal, I gather that things are going well for her. One day, I hope to once again touch her bum.

Happy manufactured holiday, everyone! I'll see you at the store tomorrow when I go to buy all the half-price candy.

babbled by Kat @ 10:24:00 AM | |

Tuesday, February 11, 2003

Forgot to remove the baby Jesus butt plug, George?A bunch of random things:

I met Gene Simmons once. He is sweaty.

I have a vintage camera collection. Some of the cameras in my collection were props in "The Ring". I haven't seen it, because scary movies, like, scare me and stuff.

I am a blood relative of someone who is a candidate for sainthood in the Catholic Church.

Yes, I appreciate the irony.

My first car was a powder-blue Volvo station wagon. When I bought it, I looked like this.

Almost every day, I wear a pendant that represents the word "love" in Hebrew. This makes people assume that I'm Jewish. I'm not, I'm just a big fan.

I know seven of the people that are in my current set of permalinks in real life. I have kissed four of them, three with tongue. I'm not naming names. You know who you are.

I procrastinate too much.

When I was 3 years old, I could count to 10 in English, French, Latin, and Turkish. Of those, I can only remember French and English (durr!), but I can count in German and Spanish now, too. It is a really fucking useful skill.

My wardrobe is almost entirely black and dark gray, but I harbor a secret love of the color pink.

I would totally make out with Tom Selleck.

babbled by Kat @ 8:12:00 AM | |

Monday, February 10, 2003

I could say something really, really dirty about this, but I won't.Unless you live under a rock, in which case I'd like to commend you on your network connectivity, you know that the over-hyped Hallmark holiday known as "Valentine's Day" is fast approaching. I usually just ignore this so-called holiday for a couple of reasons - I absolutely despise forced celebrations, and I think it's basically just a marketing ploy to part lovesick people with their hard-earned ca$hmoneys. However, for some reason I feel compelled to get my lovely girlfriend something. My mad pimpin' friend Steve thinks it's because I want to get laid, but really, I'm doing it for love. (Coughbullshitcough)

Anyway, I've had a hard time trying to think up something to get her, and all of these fucking ads in the Sunday paper and on the teevee aren't helping. All they show are these hideously ugly heart-shaped pendants and floofy teddy bears and shit. Neither of us like that kind of crap, though I've been threatening Liz with heart-shaped jewelry gifts because she keeps singing Lionel Richie songs to me and then they get stuck in my head. But aside from any retaliatory "gifts" like that, I'm completely at a loss. I could take her out for a romantic candlelit dinner, but like red roses, dinners on Valentine's Day cost more than neurosurgery. I could buy her jewelry, but I don't know her ring size, she rarely wears necklaces, and she usually wears leather bracelets if she wears any at all. I'd get her lingerie, but really, it'd be off her and on the floor in two seconds, and if all I wanted was a pretty decorative floor accent I could just buy a lace doily at the 99 cent store and be done with it.

I don't know why I'm even thinking about this - I hate this phony mass-marketed bullshit that attempts to make people feel inadequate if they don't express their love (or lust or fear of being alone) at the exact same time as a few million other poor saps are doing it. Why can't we all just express how we feel on a random day, just because? I hate that we buy into the commercialization of emotions. I say, we should all rise up and fight our greeting card industry oppressors! Stop the mass-marketed holidays! Stop the forced sentiments! Shun those red-trimmed teddy bears and heart-shaped created ruby earrings! Fight the power!

babbled by Kat @ 2:38:00 PM | |

Friday, February 07, 2003

Courtney, put on some clothes, for the love of God!I have deep, meaningful conversations. Observe:

Jake: omigod
Jake: we are at code orange
Jake: what will i wear?
Jake: i have a serious code orange fashion problem
Kat: wear black, it goes with everything
Kat: i mean, when los angeles is incinerated by one of n. korea's nukes i plan to be wearing a very fashionable black ensemble
Jake: i think there should be terror alert fashion etiquette
Jake: or at least a clothing line that panders to that need
Kat: dude
Kat: there's an obvious need
Kat: we should start a company
Jake: colors like HazMat Yellow
Jake: no, wait, cautionary yellow, hazmat orange
Jake: nuclear blue, etc
Jake: ok
Jake: let's do it
Kat: i'm sure we could get vc funding
Jake: write an op-ed piece in your blog to raise awareness
Jake: of course, the classic ashcroft gray
Jake: for the general bleak outlook (good for overcast days :-))
Kat: ok. i was gonna write about how brittney spears is dating colin farrell and that obviously means she's taking it up the pooper, but i'll write about our clothing company instead.
Jake: ooooh, i'm on a roll here
Jake: is she really?
Kat: yeah, she's dating him apparently
Kat: and he's a slutpuppy
Jake: heh, in your face timberlake
Kat: not that i would mind him coming over and being slutty in my house
Jake: reverse that and same for me (re: britney)
Kat: werd, we should invite them over to our new clothing company as a couple and then ask them to partner-swap
Jake: heh, thats thinking outside the box :-)
Kat: exactly

babbled by Kat @ 8:34:00 AM | |

Monday, February 03, 2003

SquishedThis weekend, everything was broken in my house.

The toilet broke, 2 light bulbs went out, my scanner won't turn on and the cable went out on Saturday for about an hour and again on Sunday for about 3 hours. Yes, I realize that kvetching about cable outages makes me sound like a television junkie, and I suppose I could be categorized as such, but even if I didn't love my television like it was my own child I would be pissed off at the cable company. I pay them a good-sized chunk of money every month to have uninterrupted cable service in my home, and these outages are not rare occurrences. There is an outage of an hour or more at least once a week. I thank the little baby Jesus for the intarweb because I could at least keep up with the news about the space shuttle disaster when the cable went out right in the middle of the NASA briefing on CNN.

Speaking of the space shuttle disaster, I'm a bit upset about it. I was much more upset when the Challenger exploded, probably because I was watching it on live television with my 5th grade science class, and we were all so excited because there was a teacher on board. Plus, I was 11 at the time and I hadn't quite perfected the emotional insulation that I now use to keep myself together when tragedies like this happen. It's different than plain old vanilla denial - if I were to spend too much time thinking about this, or the World Trade Center, or all my loved ones that have died, or all of the people who suffer and die every day in the world, I would spend every waking moment weeping instead of trying to do whatever small part I can do to alleviate some of that suffering. Anyway, I know those astronauts died doing what they loved to do, and I hope this doesn't deter people from further space exploration. 'Nuff said.

I did have some good stuff happen over the weekend, though. One of my aunts gave her child up for adoption 35 years ago and was recently reunited with her daughter. I hadn't told that side of the family about my own daughter and our experience with adoption, so I used my aunt's disclosure of her experience as an opener to tell her about mine. You'd think that I'd be able to tell my own family about it, since I could quite easily tell all of you internet weirdos about it, but I guess I was just waiting for the "right" time or the "right" way to tell them. My aunt and I had a great conversation about it, and now all I have to do is tell my dad and hope it doesn't give him a heart attack. I'm going to call him on my way home from work, because there's no better time to tell my father major life-altering news than when I'm stuck in traffic. Besides, today is my daughter's 12th birthday, so I guess it's kind of appropriate to tell him today. "Hi Dad, you're a grandfather, and it's her birthday today!" That's good, right? Not at all shocking.

By the way, I forgot to mention something when I told my adoption story. A couple of people commented that it must be hard for me to relive that story and those memories. It's not. I mourned, for lack of a better word, and dealt with all of my feelings about the adoption a long time ago. I have a great relationship with my daughter. We're both fine with the way things turned out. I wasn't looking for sympathy or anything like that when I told that story. I just wanted to tell it.

For less somber reading, see these reviews. I promise wit and merriment tomorrow. Or at least a good, healthy spewing of vitriol.

babbled by Kat @ 11:30:00 AM | |