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Thursday, May 29, 2003

Busy, busy, busy:

Ohmigod there is so much stuff going on that I am dying to tell you about but I'm too busy actually doing the stuff and worrying about getting the stuff done to actually write about what I'm doing and worrying about but I promise you that most of it is funtimes stuff and there's only a little bit of bad stuff like my grandma being in the hospital again but she's okay and stable right now but I'm really worried about her and I need to go to Phoenix to see her but there is so much pressure with work deadlines and trying to coordinate a trip involving 35 people for Liz's birthday party next weekend at the white trash casino in Primm, NV and getting ready for the studio sale that we're having this weekend that I am about to fucking implode which would probably be entertaining to watch but as you can see is fairly unpleasant for me and is currently causing me so much distress that I have written a run-on sentence that is longer than Ron Jeremy's cock.

babbled by Kat @ 9:29:00 AM | |

Monday, May 26, 2003

Something we already knew:

Finally, here it is in black and white: Proof that I am evil.

babbled by Kat @ 6:30:00 PM | |

Friday, May 23, 2003


Spent yesterday at an IBM event geeking out with a bunch of people I know. It was lots of fun mainly due to the fact that I love all things technology and that I got to hang out with my friends Steve and Al, who are not only really smart and funny but really, really hot, so I had pleasant eye candy to look at when I needed a break from all the geekery.

Now that I have the geek fire lit under my ass, I'm going to spend my long holiday weekend in my computer dungeon of doom (read: home office) installing and configuring Domino for Linux. Yeah, you know you want some of this.

babbled by Kat @ 9:49:00 AM | |

Monday, May 19, 2003


So, a lot of you (okay, one person) has asked me what career-related stuff is keeping me so busy that I have to get a wang-obsessed baby giraffe to post for me. (By the way, the baby giraffe is so upset that none of you commented on her entry that she is in a corner alternately eating Zoloft and weeping uncontrollably. You should be ashamed of yourselves.) Anyway, speaking at the conference lit a fire under my ass to do some things about my career. I have been fairly successful so far just cruising along on my own brilliant intelligence and sharp wit, but I figured I needed to really take some action to make sure that my career keeps heading in the fantabulous direction that it's been in for a while. This plan involves a three-pronged attack of sorts, the first prong of which concerns my appearance.

Now, don't get me wrong: I don't come to the office in cut-off jean shorts and a Miller Lite t-shirt smelling faintly of cheese or anything like that. I just have a penchant for dressing in a certain way that belies my former status as the queen of all the desert Goths. Basically, at least 85% of my wardrobe is comprised of dark-colored clothing. In addition to that, because I have been spoiled by my business-casual environment, which tends to be more casual than business, I have kind of lost my touch for appearing professional. This was glaringly obvious to me at the conference, where all the other female speakers were wearing some variation of the polo-shirt-with-khakis look. Since I look positively hideous in that type of outfit, I need to figure out an alternative that will present a professional appearance while still making me look relatively non-frumpy. So I've decided to give my wardrobe a little makeover; we're calling it a "wardrobe refresh" because we like to sound pretentious like that.

Since a wardrobe refresh involves shopping, this is more fun than the other prongs of my three-pronged attack (more on those in a later post). However, there is one aspect of this shopping extravaganza that is somewhat unpleasant for me.

Bra shopping.

See, I haven't worn a bra with any regularity in the last 3 years or so. I don't really "need" to, for support reasons anyway, because my boobs are small and perky. But when I wear certain outfits, I'm sure that my braless status is somewhat obvious to others, so I think I need to start wearing one again. I'm all annoyed about this because I find them to be very uncomfortable and irritating, but I'm willing to sacrifice my comfort to spare people the pain and horror of having to see my nipples waving hello in the brisk morning wind. I am concerned that this new bra-wearing phenomenon will be the beginning of a slippery slope into normalcy, though, so I beg you, if I start saying things like "I really enjoy the new Laura Ashley print" or "Don't you think tattoo removal should be covered under my HMO plan?", please shoot me in the fucking face.

babbled by Kat @ 2:37:00 PM | |

Friday, May 16, 2003


Me, me, me, me, me.

Me too.

babbled by Kat @ 4:15:00 PM | |

Thursday, May 15, 2003

Straight thuggin':

That's one big motherfuckin' baby.Yo, what up dawg. I'm a baby giraffe.

Kat has been all busy, what with her car getting attacked by a flying shovel and all this new career shit she's focusing on, so she gave me her login even though I'm a stone cold thug and asked me to write some shit for her. I'm guaranteed to do better than that baby lion did because as you may or may not know, giraffes are born with an excellent command of the English language. We're also really attractive, wealthy, and the boy giraffes are hung like motherfuckers. You should see some of the giraffe wangs I've been checkin' out when my mom isn't paying attention. Dayum.

So anyway, Kat has been telling me that she's all energized about her career again. See, she'd been just chugging along at work, doing her thing, but she wasn't really learning anything new or being Super Kathleen like she used to be. Then she went to that geek conference thing and solved a bunch of people's problems and everyone was all like, "Whoa, she's like, an expert!", and that just lit a fire right under that fine, perky paper-white ass of hers. So now she's off plotting and planning her next steps and that's why she asked me to write for her. Or, it could be that the guy in the cubicle next to hers told her that her typing was distracting, so maybe she just wanted to not type for a while and go over and beat him about the head and shoulders with a shillelagh.

Anyway, enough about that bitch. I want to tell you a little about myself. As you can see, I'm super hot, tall, articulate, and fabulously wealthy, so of course that makes me really interesting. Right now, since I'm still a baby, I don't do much all day except hang out with my mom and look at boy giraffes' wangs, but I have big plans for the future. Since I am one of a long line of jet-setting, internationally famous supermodel giraffes, I plan to use that legacy plus my charm and wit to get me into some exclusive and powerful clubs, like Skull & Bones or the Britney Spears fan club. Then I will utilize my secret knowledge of the inner workings of big corporations and Britney's bra to become the most powerful giraffe this world has ever seen. But for now, I'm content just scoping out other giraffes and gnawing on leaves and shit while I finalize my plot for world domination.

Kat will return shortly after she's sorted through all of her own varied plans for world domination. But trust me, I am so gonna be the boss of her.

babbled by Kat @ 1:43:00 PM | |

Tuesday, May 13, 2003

Limited time offers:

Remember, party people, it's not too late to get one of the two following fabulous items:

A tattoo. No, not one of those rub-on temporary ones of like, a unicorn with a rainbow behind it. "My" tattoo artist, Kim, is going on a little trip to Asia (not the SARS-infected part, I promise) and she's doing some super special pricing to get some extra funds for the trip. She's leaving on May 20, but she will do a prepaid gift certificate at the special rates that'll be good for lots of hot tattooin' action when she gets back. Give her a call and make your momma proud.

A necklace. Kerry is still making necklaces 'till the 15th, and because I received mine yesterday, I can personally attest to the fact that they are fan-fucking-tastic. So go get one, because not only are they pretty, they are made by a beautiful princess.

I know, I made two posts in one day, and they're not even about me. I am just tits-deep in projects and deadlines right now, but I'll be blogging my ass off pretty soon, because I'm all hyped up about a bunch of shit. Until then, go use the internet for what it's good for - porn.

babbled by Kat @ 3:06:00 PM | |

New and improved:

I have added an RSS feed to the ol' Fez. I highly recommend FeedReader for all your RSS feed reading needs. If you don't know what the fuck an RSS feed is, go read this article and then go put one on your 'blog, because I said so.

babbled by Kat @ 7:49:00 AM | |

Friday, May 09, 2003

Good to know:

If someone were to propose to me by saying, in their best Patrick Stewart as Jean-Luc Picard voice, "Engage", I would say, "Make it so," and I would totally marry them, because that is hands-down the best proposal I've ever heard of in my life.

babbled by Kat @ 1:25:00 PM | |

Thursday, May 08, 2003


Sweet. I think I need to change my pants.I have many goals and aspirations in life, but I really only have three true Ultimate Goals. They are:

1. To become independently wealthy.

2. To be bi-coastal, and I'm not even using that as a euphemism for my wildly unpredictable sexuality. I actually do want to maintain residences in both Los Angeles and New York.

3. To convince the rest of you that my perfectly healthful diet of El Pollo Loco, Balance and/or Zone bars, and single malt whisky is the key to a long and healthy life.

Now, in order to achieve the first of my Ultimate Goals (and I only capitalize them because I feel like achieving these goals is akin to becoming the Ultimate Fighting Champion), I must begin doing things besides just working at my regular job in order to increase my wealth. These things include speaking at more conferences, actually freaking submitting the book proposals I've had dancing around in my pretty little head for the last six months, working on some collaborative projects with friends, and performing weekly ritual sacrifices to Morlock, the Venutian prince of darkness. Some of these activities may require more work than others, but hey, I'm willing to pay my dues in order to become so wealthy that my servants have servants.

I think that the second of my Ultimate Goals ties in quite nicely to my penchant for polyamory. I mean, think about it. All I'll have to do is carry on a relationship with someone in New York and another with someone in Los Angeles. That way, when I am on the other coast, I have someone to take care of whichever palatial estate I have left behind, and I will always have a nice, warm, slightly sweaty bed to come home to. You monogamy buffs can't hold a candle to that shit, yo.

As for the third of my Ultimate Goals, well, I'll just have to ask you to try it. If you are unfortunate enough to live in an area where there are no El Pollo Locos, then you should move to an area that does have them. If that isn't feasible, Boston Market will do in a pinch, but stay away from anything that involves breading. The diet goes like this: have a nice Balance or Zone bar for breakfast, another for lunch, a sensible dinner of tasty marinated chicken breasts and veggies, and then a nice dessert consisting of a fine single malt whisky, preferably one that is from the Islay region, because they're the yummiest ones. They're also best for your goal of a long, healthy life, because they are usually cured with peat smoke, which is like having a whisky that is infused with God's own breath. No, really.

Now that I think about it, I could probably achieve all three of my Ultimate Goals if I just wrote a diet/health book detailing my secret for better health and longevity. And you know I'd get some takers on that polyamory thing if everyone was a little tipsy. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a diet book to write.

babbled by Kat @ 8:42:00 AM | |

Tuesday, May 06, 2003

Hell, I'd marry her.A whole bunch of things happened during my trip to Vegas, including (but not limited to): Consumption of my weight in Macallan; the successful completion of all three of my sessions at the conference, after which I received rave reviews; enough marketing bullshit to last me at least another year; three different married men hitting on me on three successive days; losing a wad of cash at the roulette table at Buffalo Bill's casino in Primm/State Line; and the erosion of my stomach lining from eating too much spicy food. Oh, and one other thing: I cheated death.

Yep. I sure did. I'd taunt death right now, but I'm kind of afraid he's going to come after me with some new kind of unconventional and totally freakish way of killing me, so I'll refrain from all the taunting for the time being and just tell you how I cheated the stinky bastard.

So, I was driving home from my trip to Las Vegas. I was only about 10 miles away from my house, getting ready to exit the freeway, when I saw something fly up from under the wheel of the car in the next lane. The object flew towards my car, and at the last minute, just before it hit me, I realized that it wasn't a plastic bag or some other type of lightweight material that we're so used to seeing float around aimlessly as random highway debris. No, this was no plastic bag, no sir.

It was a shovel.

About a tenth of a second after I realized that there was a flying shovel flipping end over end through the air towards me, it smashed into the roof of my car. As the handle hit the front of the roof, the overhead light cover fell off and landed in my lap. Then I heard the blade of the shovel hit the sunroof, shattering it. The shovel bounced merrily off my car, and I promptly freaked the fuck out.

Well, actually, I just kind of shrieked a little and then pulled off the freeway as calmly as possible. Then I thought, "Did that just fucking happen?" I stopped, pulled over, and examined the damage, and concluded that yes, that did just fucking happen, and I had narrowly missed having a face full of glass; had I been going 1 mph slower, the shovel would have gone through my windshield.

Yeah, you read that right. The story, while completely unbelievable in that oh-my-God-this-is-straight-out-of-a-David-Lynch-film kind of way, is absolutely true. So now I'm driving around in a rental car, waiting to hear from the body shop how much it'll cost to repair my poor, sweet, injured Audi. I'm also staying on the lookout for the next thing that death decides to throw at me, because if he's willing to attack my car with a flying shovel, that mofo is willing to do anything.

babbled by Kat @ 1:31:00 PM | |

Sunday, May 04, 2003

To my loyal reader(s):

I am safely back home. My head is filled with a ton of thoughts and feelings and whatnot, so I am going to take a one or two day hiatus from blogging to recover from my trip and get my thoughts all in order. So, to fill the void while I am collecting my thoughts and my remaining brain cells, please go to Kerry's site and donate some ca$hmoneys to her "Damn, Kerry Needs a New Computer, BAD!" fund. 'Cause I said so.

babbled by Kat @ 11:56:00 PM | |