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Friday, November 28, 2003

Make it so:

Yesterday was Thanksgiving so I ate a bunch of fried items and also homemade pie at my neighbor's house and it was hella good. I also drank myself retarded, so I was surprised and pretty impressed with myself when I got out of my jammies and headed up to Burbank for this sci-fi con thing that was going on.

See, I had to cancel my Thanksgiving weekend trip because of work and so I was left with not much to do for the day following the holiday, because I figured that a) I would be too hung over/stuffed with food/freaked out by holiday sales to do anything and b) who the hell wants to go anywhere that involves retail on the day after Thanksgiving? It's creepy. So I said, "dubya tee eff mayte" and went off to the convention center.

Since this was my first sci-fi con, I was a little concerned about what I would encounter there. I mean, I'm a veteran of at least 12 major comic-cons but a pure sci-fi con is different. I was prepared for extreme nerdiness, but I wasn't prepared for the sheer number of furries or the positively vast number of comic book guy clones. Everyone was really nice, though, so it was all good. And by all good, I mean all geeky.

The evening was spent having dinner with Wil, who thankfully helped to rescue me from the clutches of a very well-meaning but slightly stalkeresque conference attendee. We endured some painfully slow service and fortunately received some tasty food items, and then decided we hadn't had enough and gorged on some fresh Krispy Kremes before adjourning to the last panel of the evening.

I, of course, had to excuse myself halfway through because I got a phone call from zerogaugearizonian. Obviously, I get calls from hot motherfuckers all the time, so it ain't no thang. Anyway, since this was the second hottie call of the evening, clearly it was time for me to be corralled by another ubergeek, so I ended up talking to one and sticking around till the bitter end of the last panel of the evening. Thanks turbogeeks!

Anyway, now I'm utterly exhausted and must sleep. However, I would just like to say, for the record, Best. Scifi Con. Evar.

Until the next one.

Teh comix, oh how I laugh and laugh


babbled by Kat @ 11:57:00 PM | |


Monday, November 24, 2003

911 is a joke:

That is one fine ass metamorphToday I had a run-in with one of the most dreaded entities in American healthcare. No, I'm not talking about Dr. Phil. I had to deal with my HMO.

I can hear you screaming, "Why, God, why? She was so young!"

Don't worry, it wasn't that bad. Obviously not, because I lived to tell the tale. I also lived to change over to a PPO so I won't have to deal with this bullshit any longer, but that's beside the point.

Basically, I have a couple of small patches of dry skin that won't heal or go back to normal or do fucking anything I want it to no matter how much I pamper, moisturize, or curse at it. So I decided, well, fuck it, I'd like to go see a dermatologist and get this shit sorted out once and for all. Seems logical, right? Not to the fucking HMO, it's not. See, even though I know I have a weird skin problem and I just need to go to a dermatologist, the HMO makes me get a referral from my regular doctor if I want to see a specialist. To save costs. As if a visit to my regular doctor to have her tell me what I already know, that I need to see a dermatologist, saves anyone any goddamned time or money.

Anyway, my doctor is booked up for the next three weeks and since I am already freaking the fuck out because this shit isn't improving despite my thorough efforts to repair it, and I like to have my skin perfect and beautiful so that it matches my flawless personality, I didn't think I should have to wait. (Lest you think I am completely vain, let me assure you that at least 1% of my concern is about my health. So I'm only around 99% vain.) Unfortunately, my doctor insists on an office visit before she will give out a referral, and my insurance company wouldn't budge about the referral requirement, so in the interest of saving time and my sanity, I went to a dermatologist without a referral and now I owe them 8493652 dollars. But at least I have some prescription cortisone cream and a chunk of missing skin to show for it! Thanks HMO!

Shane loves my pussy


babbled by Kat @ 5:03:00 PM | |


Wednesday, November 19, 2003

We put the "ho" in homo:

That's right, Brit-Brit, you just keep going down the road to Stripperville.Hi, I'm Kathleen, and I'm pissed off.

Why, you ask? I'll tell you! Thanks for asking.

Yesterday the Massachusetts Supreme Court ruled 4-3 that gay couples have the right to marry under the state constitution. That's great news... except that they didn't say that Massachusetts had to start issuing marriage licenses right away. They gave the legislature 6 months to work out a resolution.

That's like saying, "Hey, women should be allowed to vote under the constitution, but don't let them do it just yet. We'll give you legislators six months to fuck this all up and undo equal-rights protections!"

The governor of Massachusetts says he'll push for an amendment to the state constitution that clearly defines marriage as an institution between one man and one woman. If he gets his way, the Mass. Supreme Court ruling will be effectively rendered invalid. The wording of the decision left that loophole there, wide open for opponents of same-sex marriage. That pisses me off.

Also, have you noticed that in the news reports, every time they quote a gay representative (in this most recent case, Rep. Barney Frank from Massachusetts), they always say "Frank, who is openly gay, blah blah blah." Why the hell does it matter? They don't say, "Senator Rick Santorum, who is openly heterosexual," do they? Or more appropriately, "Senator Rick Santorum, who is a viciously bigoted homophobe, basically equated gay marriage with bestiality in a statement issued recently." Come on, people! Let's have some equality in reporting, already.

And really, what's with the homophobia? Is it because they've been watching too much Queer Eye for the Straight Guy? Are they afraid that if they come into contact with gays, straight men might... get better haircuts? Oh, the horror! Or worse - straight men might... gain some fashion sense? Dear God, WHY? And, heaven forbid, those endangered heteros might... have tastefully decorated homes! OH, THE HUMANITY!

Why can't people get their heads out of their asses and realize that these are just people who love one another and want to show their commitment by marrying their partner? When you boil it all down, it's as simple as that.

I'd marry Kerry in a heartbeat


babbled by Kat @ 10:41:00 AM | |


Monday, November 17, 2003

Cheer up, emo kid:

OMG SO CUTE I COULD LIEK DIE LMAOWTFWWJD!!!one!Hi, I'm a baby jaguar.

Kat had a shitty weekend so she asked me to step in and write something. I don't know fucking anything about writing so I am warning you right now that this might totally suck. The one thing I do know is that it is pronounced JAG-WAHR not JAG-YOU-ER (unless you are English) so just fucking say it right from now on, okay? Okay.

So, Kat went to Phoenix this weekend to visit her grandma. The grandma parts of the weekend were pretty cool and her grandma said all kinds of really nice stuff that made Kat almost cry but she couldn't cry because then her grandma would cry too and that would make Kat cry more and then WE WOULD ALL DROWN IN THE ENSUING SEA OF TEARS. So she held back for the good of all humanity. The grandma time was also a little depressing though, because even though Kat's grandma is Super Grandma™ and has pretty much totally recovered from the stroke she had in May, her memory is slipping a little and she asks the same questions over and over and tells the same stories a few times each day and that made Kat a little sad because her grandma has always been so strong and now she seems really fragile. She told me all this and I was like, "Chin up, Kat, cherish the time you have with her," but I don't think she understood me because she just said, "Aww you're so cute and fuzzy!" and scratched me on my chin. Don't get me wrong, I like the chin scratching but nobody fucking takes me seriously and that can get a little annoying. So stop telling me I'm cute or you'll get THE CLAWS, beeyotch.

Anyway, since Kat was kinda bummed anyway about some other shit that she doesn't want to talk about so please don't ask, she was really looking forward to spending some time with that Zero Gauge person and sharing good times and saliva. However, Zero Gauge's cell phone was disconnected and since Kat had no other way to get in touch with this person and all of her other friends in Phoenix were either working or out of town or dead, instead of sharing good times and saliva she spent her evenings in her hotel room talking online. Yes, it's pathetic and I told her that already so you can just keep that thought to yourself, motherfucker. She was feeling pretty dejected and shitty and is still kind of in a pissy mood (so watch out), but then her new BFF Robbie Rob wrote an ode to her labia (scroll down to November 15) and it made her feel much better. One, because she has friends that are so cool and try to make her feel better when she is feeling awful and two, because it's an ODE to her motherfucking LABIA. How many people have odes written to their labia? Huh? Yeah, didn't think so, biznatch.

Now Kat is feeling a bit better and shit, so you don't need to be all sappy in the comments and go "AWW WE LOVE YOU KAT, TO THE MAX" but if you really want to do something to cheer her up you can always buy her presents. No?

Cheap bastards.

Stephen is having surgery today. Wish him well. Because I said so.


babbled by Kat @ 8:48:00 AM | |


Friday, November 14, 2003

Lying liar:

She can wear that over to my house anytimeI know what you're probably thinking - "Sweet Jesus on a stick! Kat is posting more than three times in a week! Clearly we are in Bizarroworld." However, I can assure you that not only are we still in the regular world, that there is a reason for the extra post.

You see, while I have been very verbose lately telling you all about how much people annoy me and all the celebrity nipple sightings and my weird bout of lovesickness (which has passed, thank you baby Jesus!) and my intimate familiarity with my own labia, I have been battling a severe case of writers' block with my NaNoWriMo novel.

I have a super kickass plot and have completed my character sketches. My characters are awesome and include several midgets and a monkey that understands English. I've even written like 12,000 words already. But I just can't for the life of me get past this one part of the story. I'm totally behind on word count, but as it is I can barely force myself to squeeze out a couple of hundred words before it all devolves into a rather dejected-looking me staring blankly at a monitor. Of course, I have no problems writing lengthy diatribes about STORM WATCH 2003!!!!11!!1one, but as we all know, weather is much more exciting than circus freaks.

To top it off, I am going to Phoenix tonight to visit my grandma for the weekend. I am pretty sure that hanging out with my grandmother and her friends will put the kibosh on any word count increases. Also, even though I tell myself I am going to be good and stay in my hotel room writing instead of drinking heavily, going out with my friends and perhaps exchanging a little saliva with one in particular, I will probably do just that because I break promises to myself all the time.

Maybe I should just write at length about one of my characters taking a trip to Phoenix, hanging out with cool old people, drinking heavily, and making out with someone with an abnormally large tongue piercing, even though the novel is supposed to be completely fictional.

Shh.

It'll be our little secret, okay?


babbled by Kat @ 3:14:00 PM | |


Thursday, November 13, 2003

I did it with a wiffle ball bat:

I look sweet and innocent. Looks can be deceiving.Today I am going to write about some people that I probably shouldn't write about. Don't worry, none of it is about you, because clearly everyone who is reading this is wonderful and never does anything to annoy me. It's also not at all about people I work with, live near, or talk to on a regular basis. In fact, this entry doesn't really exist and this is all in your imagination.

So, without further ado, I bring you The Most Annoying People On Earth.

First, we have Sniffly Lady. Hey, guess what, if your nose is running that fucking much, please go to the ladies' room and blow your nose already. I swear to Christ this woman has sniffed audibly at least 47 times in the last 15 minutes. KILL ME NOW. Thanks.

Next is Everyone in Southern California During a Storm. As teh Wil mentioned, oh my God, we had a fucking storm last night. You would think it was the apocalypse the way these people act. "Sweet Lord, there is a drop of rain on the road! I must SLOW TO A CRAWL!!!!" I admit, when the storm was directly over the top of my building and the thunder literally made the walls shake and there was lightning striking the parking lot outside my window, sure, I was all practical and shit and turned off my computers and went downstairs. But that's not the way the news saw it! Oh no, it's STORM WATCH 2003!!11!!!1one! My god, what will we do?! There's ACTUAL WEATHER! Oh, the humanity.

Next we have Personal Call Lady. (Remember, I don't work with any of these people. This is all fiction and I made it up and nobody exists in real life, pinky swear.) Personal Call Lady sits at her desk and makes like 947 personal calls every day, and that's just before lunch. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not opposed to the occasional personal call while you are at work. I make and/or receive one every so often (no I don't, this is all a dirty lie). But seriously, if you are going to conduct HOURS of personal business EVERY DAY then either quit your fucking job, or get one where you don't sit in a cubicle and force everyone else to listen to your personal shit. In other words, shut the fuck up already, kthnx.

Now that I'm done being annoyed for the day, I can get back to my regular daily activities, which include rocking 3L's Name That Blogger contest and diddling myself in the supply closet working very, very hard.

The Mighty Jimbo looks good in vinyl


babbled by Kat @ 9:38:00 AM | |


Tuesday, November 11, 2003

Girls gone wild:

Do as I say, minionsI haven't told you much about my adventures during the last couple of weeks because I have been so goddamned busy. Also, most of the time when I do really fun shit, I need a little bit of time to collect my thoughts before I tell you about it. And sometimes I have to do some editing because even though I tell you all manner of things like how well I know my labial structure, sometimes I need to keep some shit private. After all, I don't want my internet stalkers to know too much about me. There has to be some mystery left when they kidnap me and harvest my organs to sell on the black market.

So anyway, on Halloween I had the privilege of officiating at my friends Wes and Erica's wedding. You see, once upon a time I was ordained by a supercool internet ministry and I have wanted to perform a wedding ceremony ever since. Luckily for me, my friends totally disregarded my high level of retardation and asked me to officiate at their wedding. I wrote up a nice little ceremony for them, we went over it before the wedding, and I got there early just to make sure everything would go well. It did, and I was totally honored to do it, because the love that these two feel for one another is palpable. (And I don't mean that in a dirty way.. or do I?) Perhaps all these lovey-dovey wedding shenanigans are the reason for my little bout of lovesickness a few posts back, no?

The reception was awesome, and during the process of celebrating the couple's nuptials I consumed a fair amount of Guinness. What a surprise. I spent a good amount of time with a certain friend of the groom, who we'll call Zero Gauge. (Shit, everyone else has nicknames for people in their blogs, so I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon.) ZG and I shared an affinity for imported beer and Family Guy, so as you can imagine we had a lot to talk about. And by "talk" I mean talk, you perverts. I may or may not be running into ZG again soon and I may or may not tell you about it. Not that you necessarily care about what I am doing with my spare time and/or saliva, but this blog has been celibate for far too long and I think it is feeling a little neglected, so at the very least I am going to have to spice things up with more photos of hot chicks and maybe a masturbation fantasy or seven.

You'd think the adventure ended there, wouldn't you? But nooooo. I know you may have been fooled into thinking that I lead a boring, mundane existence because I post about going to the grocery store and removing cat hair from my nostrils, but really it's all just a sham and I am clearly the most exciting person you will ever stalk know.

The adventure continues a mere one week later, with a party that I attended on Saturday night. Fortunately, the party was a mere two minutes' walk away, so I couldn't possibly justify whatever lazy excuse I could make for not attending. Also, a friend of mine that I hadn't seen in quite a while had invited me, and I am a loyal friend so of course I had to go. It doesn't hurt that she is hella hot, as I tend to do things more readily if hot chicks do the asking. We spent some time catching up, and by "catching up" I mean talking, you perverts. This followed an evening during which I sat at the bar with a few hotties and C-list celebrities and drank till the wee hours of the evening. Of course, the celebrities have all sworn me to secrecy but suffice it to say that I saw boobs that night and you didn't.

Obviously after all the celebrity nipple sightings I had to take a rest (read: masturbate), because staring at nice boobs takes a lot out of a girl (read: makes a girl wanna rub one out, you perverts). Next weekend I'm off to Phoenix for a weekend of drunken debauchery, the drunken part of which involves my grandmother and the debauchery part of which most certainly does not. I will take pictures, but not of what you think I will take pictures of.

You perverts.

3rd Leg rocks a house party at the drop of a hat


babbled by Kat @ 6:47:00 AM | |


Monday, November 10, 2003

Pussy galore:

If that's what the devil looks like, I'll gladly sell my soulLast night I slept like complete and utter shit. I felt kind of ill earlier in the evening, which prevented me from going to this bowling fundraiser thing that I really wanted to go to, but I felt like I might hurl on people's bowling shoes if I exerted any kind of physical effort so I thought I should stay home. I watched a new episode of Family Guy and then went to bed nice and early, hoping to catch a decent amount of sleep so that I could be reasonably functional today.

However, my cat thwarted my plans.

You see, I have a very affectionate cat. He just fucking adores me and follows me around the loft all the time. He will sit next to me for hours on end while I'm working or reading or whatnot. Recently he has taken to doing this snuggle action while I am asleep. "Aww," I hear you say. "Why would that be a problem?" Well, I'll fucking tell you, you sappy bastards.

I sleep on my side. My cat wants to be so goddamned close to me that he places himself in the space directly in front of my face when I am lying down, thus positioning his whiskers in prime position to tickle my nose, which wakes me up. This also places him in the perfect position to knead his claws directly into my flesh, which needless to say wakes me up in a most unpleasant fashion. For some reason, my cat could not leave me the fuck alone last night. He would do this cuddly shit, wake me up with either whisker tickling or claw insertion, and then stick his nose in my face and await petting. I'll tell you something, there is nothing quite so disconcerting as a fucking one-eyed black cat staring into your eyes, less than an inch from your face. I finally had to shove him off the bed, which seemed to confuse him, because he sat on the floor staring at me for a good ten minutes afterwards.

I love my goddamned cat, don't get me wrong, but I swear to fucking christ he is either trying to deprive me of sleep so that I will become a delirious cat lady who is always wearing a housecoat, curlers, and a scarf and feeds him treats at all hours of the day and night because she's so retarded she can't remember the last time she fed him, or he's trying to be evil and steal my soul and he's just not very good at being subtle. If this continues in this manner I might just have to find somewhere else to sleep and/or stock up on cat treats and hair curlers.

Jeremy shizzle televizzle


babbled by Kat @ 8:40:00 AM | |


Wednesday, November 05, 2003

Drama mamma:

The other day, while I was drowning in an ocean of angst and inner turmoil, I went to my favorite grocery store. I would like to warn all of you that going to the grocery store in South Pasadena at 3:00 in the afternoon on a Thursday is officially a Really Bad Idea. Not only are there a bunch of school kids there with their parents who are running errands on their way home from the snooty private school that costs more annually than the gross national product of Namibia, apparently 3:00 in the afternoon is when every single elderly person in the greater Pasadena area likes to do their grocery shopping. All I wanted was a couple of bottles of wine, some Vitamin Water and a couple of packages of string cheese. You'd think that would take me, what, 5 minutes to grab, since I know that store like I know my own labial structure and if you asked me where exactly they keep the mushroom turnovers even though I don't eat them I could lead you directly to them in 3 seconds flat. But noooo, I had to get stuck behind 80 year old ladies with one apple and a bottle of Orangina in their shopping carts and gaggles of giggling 14 year olds in school uniforms, who were saying stuff like, "OMG did you see what Jenny's socks looked like today she is so gross I bet she has cooties hey let's ask my mom if we can go to the mall after this cause I want to go to Hot Topic and get some of their high quality body jewelry in case my mom ever lets me get my tongue pierced like Jenny's even though she is so gross she has that cool tongue ring so I guess she's not that bad but she still has cooties OMGLOL".

Anyway, while all that was going on and I was getting more frustrated than a lone quadriplegic with a raging hard-on, I kept dwelling on my stupid fucking emo bullshit and because even if they are annoying I can't punch old ladies, I started composing a poem in my head. Now if that's not emo enough for you, go listen to the Get Up Kids and get out of my face. Seriously, though, I haven't written a poem since 1989, and even though I am telling you that I wrote one I am not going to let you see it, because it's really personal (read: shitty) and I want it to be just for me (read: I don't want to subject you to it because your eyes might catch fire due to the supreme suckiness and I just can't afford the lawsuits). However, I will share my favorite excerpt from it, because I have decided that said excerpt is going to be my personal motto from now on. Also, my future baby daddy Steve said that with this excerpt, I have successfully summarized the collected works of Henry Miller in seven words, so I figure if that is the case then it is worth sharing. However, you might think it's utter crap, in which case you are a fucking idiot and nothing good will ever happen to you again. In any case, here it is:

laugh
cry
love
hate
eat
fuck
live

Robbie Rob rules all


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


Monday, November 03, 2003

Her jokes attract the lucky bad type:

My kinda womanRecently I became aware of a really odd feeling that I've been having that I couldn't quite place. You see, normally (and especially after my last breakup), I am a fairly misanthropic loner type, and even though I have been in love and had long-term, fulfilling relationships, I have always felt a little more comfortable when I'm by myself. After my last relationship ended, I basically became convinced that I would be a freewheelin' single gal for the foreseeable future, and I was fine with that. However, it appears as though I have contracted a sinister virus of some sort which is making me think otherwise.

You see, I have a bunch of friends who are all happy and in love and shit. It all started innocently enough, when I met Sean and Caryn, who are not only really fucking cool but have a great relationship and have the best gallery in L.A. (I'm not envious, or anything.) I was only around them for short periods of time, though, so I don't think I caught it, I just became a carrier. Then I started noticing all my other friends who are in these great relationships and are all in love and shit, and not just that new kind of love that's all shiny and fluffy and nauseating to outsiders, but that successful, long-term partnership, best friends and lovers all wrapped into one package type of love. It's all over the fucking place - Wil and Anne, Emma and Iain (who so graciously allowed me to stay with them in the UK), my friends Wes and Erica (whose wedding ceremony I officiated on Halloween), my neighbor Kim and her girlfriend Sky, my friends Steve and Gina (who are not only happy but incredibly smart and funny and drop-dead gorgeous. Bastards.).. it's just every. fucking. where. Even my blog friends have kickass relationships going on. And you know what?

I kind of like it.

See, normally I'm a cynical asshole and I see people who are all happy and in love and I go, "ew." Hell, a month ago I would've said, "Bleh, even if the love of my life fell in my lap I don't know if I'd bother," and now I'm thinking, "Well, that love stuff sure seems nice."

Clearly, I'm now infected with this love virus.

Who knows - maybe I am just thinking back to how it was at the beginning of my relationship with Liz, because we made everyone want to puke with our lovey-dovey antics (even ourselves, sometimes). Maybe I'm just thinking about this stuff because my friend's recent death made me get a little perspective on just how short life is. Maybe I drank too much Guinness in Ireland and it warped my neural synapses.

Wait, what am I thinking? There's no such thing as too much Guinness.

Obviously I need to get this shit out of my system. Any suggestions (barring marriage proposals or drinking myself retarded) would be greatly appreciated.

Shane and I are goin' to the chapel


babbled by Kat @ 1:23:00 PM | |


Sunday, November 02, 2003

Chicken minus head:

I have been so motherfucking busy since I got home that I have not even had time to unpack. Or, maybe I haven't unpacked because I'm a lazy asshole. I really have been pretty busy, though. In the past few days I have had to catch up with friends, plan a wedding ceremony, co-host the NaNoWriMo kickoff party, drop off film at the photo lab, go to Temecula, perform a wedding ceremony, drive a totally hot motherfucker to the airport, run errands, and just generally catch up with reality.

Now that I've caught up with myself, I am prepared to start working on my NaNo novel, even though I was technically supposed to start it yesterday. So I'll get to it now, but never fear, I'll continue to regale you with exciting tales of my fascinating life. I know you can't wait.

Plug pluggity plug plug


babbled by Kat @ 8:55:00 AM | |