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Thursday, January 29, 2004

Making out with people I barely know are alive:

If I hung her from my ceiling, she'd make a good chandelierI am tempted to make a comment about my nearly unprecedented, unbroken string of daily posts, but every time I make a comment about how much I am posting I am immediately stricken with a severe case of writers' block and can't even manage to eke out an e-mail to my mother, much less an entire blog post, which inevitably results in a lengthy delay in updates. So, I won't mention it at all. Pretend you didn't read the preceding sentences.

Now that it's the end of January, I am faced with an impending decision regarding my travel plans for February. Since I have a history of making bad decisions, both in the romantic and financial arenas, I have decided to leave this decision entirely up to other people. I will present the pros and cons, much like I did with the bachelors a few weeks ago, but this time I will actually listen to what you have to say, and will make my decision based on your recommendations. The only person who has veto power is my big brother Shawny. Also, please refrain from suggesting any write-in destinations, as this choice is between two cities and two cities only. Let the voting begin.

Destination #1: Phoenix, 2/14-2/16. Yeah, I know, every time I go there I write about how much I hate it. However, this trip is different. First, I won't have to deal with that fuckhat my mom is married to because they'll be in Tucson. Second, I would be able to bring my grandma her two dozen roses in person (I usually give them to her at Xmas to commemorate my grandparents' anniversary, but she asked me to wait till Valentine's this year because she wasn't home at Xmas). Third, I have an ironclad promise from my favorite person under 30 in Phoenix that he will take time off while I am there and go do fun stuff with me that includes getting something pierced, drinking excessively, and maybe some mud wrestling. And fourth, I'm going to drive there by myself, which will give me an excuse to buy a fucking iPod already so I'll have shit to listen to on the drive. Pros: Will make grandma happy, can justify gadget purchase, good chance of mud wrestling. Cons: Have to pay for a hotel, going out of town on a holiday weekend is poopy.

Destination #2: San Francisco, 2/20-2/22. I haven't been to S.F. in a while, even though my incredibly hot best friend AND my incredibly hot partner in comic book crime both live there. If I go up this time, it'll probably be with the fabulous Jessica, if she makes up her mind about going to APE, which is the only reason I was going to a cold, windy place in the middle of February. However, I don't have any new comics ready, so I'm not feeling all that motivated to go. Pros: Seeing hot people who I love, good chance of seeing the bling bra (finally). Cons: Have to pay for a hotel, tripping over homeless people everywhere I go, very little chance of mud wrestling.

Of course, I could always do both, but if that is your recommendation, please provide justification, some B-complex, and maybe some crystal meth so I'll have enough energy to do both.

Vote early and often!


babbled by Kat @ 12:07:00 PM | |


Wednesday, January 28, 2004

What a girl wants:

Lately, I've had fluctuating feelings about romantic entanglements. Yeah, I know, I do that a lot. So what if one of my favorite habits is overthinking everything? Anyway, sometimes I look at some of my friends who are all happy and in love with a partner that seems so incredibly perfect for them that it makes me actually consider that fate exists, and I want something like that. But then I get to thinking about how I really like to just do things my way and I don't want to have to deal with someone else's baggage (and everyone has some, whether it's a small carry-on or a full suite of matching Louis Vuitton trunks), and I feel content with what I have. Or I'll get sick or upset or stressed at work and I'll really miss having someone around who will just wrap me in their arms and stroke my hair and tell me everything will be better, and it instantly is better because they're there. Or maybe I'll get a wild hair and go on a spontaneous road trip to Santa Barbara and revel in the fact that I don't have to clear it with anyone or tell anyone where I'm going. Then I realize that if I was really with someone that felt right, I'd want them to come with me.

Part of the reason that this is on my mind so much lately is that I hadn't been around anyone that felt right until recently, and when I finally let my guard down and allowed myself to be vulnerable, the entire thing went down the shitter. So I think I'm still feeling like I lost something. And I did lose something, but that's okay - because if I never let my guard down, if I never risk getting hurt in order to potentially experience something wonderful, then I'm not really living, am I?


babbled by Kat @ 10:40:00 AM | |


Tuesday, January 27, 2004

Make it so, number one:

As some of you may know (either because you know me in real life or because you read my about page), I am a career computer geek and work primarily with Lotus/IBM software. Every year, Lotus has a conference in Orlando called Lotusphere, where, you guessed it, a bunch of geeks get together and talk about Lotus software. It's going on right now, as a matter of fact.

I really wanted to go this year, because I just started getting into the speaking circuit via another Lotus-centric conference last year, and it would be a good networking opportunity for me to be there, not to mention that nearly everyone I know in the industry is there right now. I know at least half a dozen of the speakers and at least another dozen attendees, and I think that in addition to all of the valuable technical content I would have obtained at the conference, I would've had a blast hanging out with my peeps, because I rarely get to see them all in one place. However, until yesterday I'd just chalked it up to another conference that I'd be missing and figured I'd get the tech info and gossip from my friends when they returned.

Then I got a call from one of them. Telling me who the guest speaker was.

Patrick.

Freakin'.

Stewart.

That's right. Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Professor Charles Xavier. Ebenezer Scrooge. Sterling. Davies. Shakespearean characters galore. My future husband. That Patrick Stewart.

I have never regretted missing a technical conference more in my ENTIRE LIFE.

We will now return to your regularly scheduled programming, which does not include inappropriate crushes on celebrities who are more than twice my age.


babbled by Kat @ 2:49:00 PM | |


Monday, January 26, 2004

I ran the risk of blowing up:

Punk rock monkeysHi, I'm a dyed monkey.

Normally when Kat has guest bloggers they are baby animals, but this time she invited me, a grown-up animal, mainly because I think she felt bad for me and my monkey friends here because someone dyed our fur funky colors. I'm the one with the dark fur. As you can tell from their expressions, my monkey friends here are either too sad, dumbfounded, or pissed by their new fur colors to write anything in some stupid fucking blog on the intarweb, so I'm left to do all the reporting on Kat's pathetic excuse for a life.

Actually, she had quite a productive weekend, considering the state she was in most of last week. On Saturday she ran some errands, which included buying art supplies so she can paint horribly amateurish self-portraits and body jewelry to put in some piercings that you'll probably never get to see even if you know her in real life. In keeping with this theme of actually leaving the house, she went to her favorite gallery for their latest opening and spent some time trying not to drool on the awesome paintings. Then she went to the bar and had a spirited discussion with one of her neighbors about subjects ranging from politics to religion to porn. (Of course, it was mostly about porn, but every once in a while they managed to drag their minds out of the gutter, if only for a minute or two.)

On Sunday, Kat woke up feeling all energized for some unknown reason (wink wink) and decided to get a lot of shit done. Part of her new Sunday ritual involves going to her neighbor's house and dissecting what passes for her love life while drinking coffee and smoking cloves, then walking to the local convenience store for junk food. While this is probably not the most physically healthy activity one could engage in, it seems to have a positive effect on her mental state, so the only logical conclusion I can reach is that coffee, junk food, and clove cigarettes are good for you. Then again, I'm a fucking monkey with dyed fur, what do I know? Anyway, after Kat & friend finished eating junk food and plotting world domination, she proceeded to go home and get chores done in a flurry of activity the likes of which the world has never seen! Well, not really, but she did a metric asston of laundry, washed dishes, and cleaned her kitchen. But that's not all! She also started some paintings! And deep-conditioned her hair! And inserted jewelry into piercings that you really want to see but never will!

God, I'm exhausted just thinking about all that shit.

In any case, Kat is feeling really happy about how productive she was. She's also feeling much better after her illness and is waiting for confirmation from her doctor as to whether her illness was actually a UTI or just some weird-ass 72 hour flu, because all of a sudden she feels much better and hasn't even taken any antibiotics, so she thinks maybe she might have just come down with a sudden case of diphtheria that just magically cured itself. She'll let you know, of course, because that dumb bitch is just too fucking honest with you people.

I've got to get back to consoling these dumb-looking motherfuckers next to me. I keep trying to tell them their fur color is all the rage with the kids these days but they're not listening. I guess I'll just have to get them drunk on Thunderbird, bust out the clippers and give them all mohawks.

Go visit Jim and offer him sex


babbled by Kat @ 9:22:00 AM | |


Thursday, January 22, 2004

Forever yours, faithfully:

It turns out the mystery illness is not so mysterious after all. After two full days of just fever and aches and generally feeling like I alternately got run over by a truck and a herd of angry sumo wrestlers, I finally got another symptom. Since I have had this exact same problem like a bajillion times before, I knew immediately what it was and proceeded to go, "aw, fuck". Then I called my doctor and said, "Give me some antibiotics right now, goddammit!!"

No, I don't have gonoherpesyphilaids.

I have a urinary tract infection.

Oh yeah, it's sexy. I'm adding it to my Friendster profile.

Anyway, those of you familiar with this particular affliction may think that my condition implies that I have had sex recently. I cannot confirm or deny this, because it would call my moral character into question. (Don't worry, if you're not buying that whole "moral character" bullshit, neither am I, and I'm writing it.) In any case, if I did indeed have sex, I also cannot confirm or deny that it was with Eddie Izzard, because I am not entirely sure if that particular hot and steamy night of incredible sex was entirely in my imagination or not. If it wasn't my imagination and anyone has video confirmation, please forward it to me immediately.

In other news, I was watching the Daily Show tonight and my future husband Jon Stewart was talking about all of the Democratic presidential candidates' favorite albums. He then mentioned that General Wesley Clark's favorite album is "Journey's Greatest Hits".

YEAH, BABY.

I tell you what, I already wanted to make out with Gen. Clark. (What? Older men are hot. Sue me.) But clearly, since we both share a love of Steve Perry, the good General and I are soul mates and should make out endlessly.

Of course, making out with an admittedly bisexual, pierced and tattooed, social lefty who was a teen mom, drinks too much, and lives in one of those goddamned commie pinko artists' colonies would probably ruin his chances at the presidency, but I think when he weighs that against the awesomeness that is making out with me, he'll find that it's TOTALLY worth it.


babbled by Kat @ 11:55:00 PM | |


Wednesday, January 21, 2004

Licensed to ill:

I've been holed up at home for the last two days feeling like I got in a bar brawl with 12 ninjas, a couple of sumo wrestlers, and a greased midget. I have no idea what is wrong with me, because the only symptoms I have are aches, a mild fever, and weakness, and as far as I know I haven't been exposed to any Kryptonite lately, so the cause of my ailment remains a complete mystery. I am doing my best to recover quickly by sleeping 15 hours a day and drinking enough water to drown a major metropolitan city. Hopefully I will be back to my regular totally fucking hilarious self in short order.

Some neat things I have learned during my mystery illness, in a convenient bulleted list:

  • I am fully capable of making my hair look as though I have just had sex with an entire hockey team, just from tossing and turning during a bout of fever-induced nightmares.
  • My cat believes that the only way to cure his sick human is to sleep with some portion of his fur directly in front of my mouth so that I will inhale it along with its curative properties.
  • My next-door neighbor likes to play opera every morning from approximately 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. Loudly. Whether this is speeding up or slowing my recovery is unclear.
  • Apparently, the combination of a Monster energy drink and three regular-strength ibuprofen tablets makes me become clinically insane, albeit temporarily.
  • Gyno tables are a good place to take a nap.

    Though I am leaning towards a diagnosis of diphtheria, I will be sure to keep you, my four and a quarter readers, updated as to my condition. Don't worry - I have already made sure that the Blogger posting page is queued up and ready for me to post in case I begin experiencing hallucinations.

    Go help some kids with art education.


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


    Monday, January 19, 2004

    Just 'cause you feel it, doesn't mean it's there:

    If there's anything I have learned in the last several days, it's to stop being so goddamned melodramatic.

    If I worried any of you with my last post, I'm sorry. No need to stage an intervention or suggest a suicide hotline or check in with that private investigator that you've had tailing me, you fucking stalker. I'm fine. I wrote that post when I was in the middle of weeping bitterly over someone that wasn't worth the time or heartache. Now that I've had several days to get some perspective, I realize that I had built up something in my head that really wasn't there, and I've come to terms with that and moved on. It still stings a little, but it's nothing that a little time won't mend.

    Onward and upward. This weekend was fairly eventful. On Friday I got to have lunch at Philippe's, home of the original French dip sandwich (aka heart attack on a paper plate) with the lovely Jessica. I like having lunch with her because she doesn't mind that I am completely insane and act like a total freakazoid. Also, she is cooler than you and could totally kick your ass with only a pair of knitting needles and a bling bra.

    On Saturday there was a Metafilter meetup at the cafe at the Brewery. Much fun was had by all, as you can see in this fabulous photo. Also, my friend's birthday party was that night, so after the MeFites left I proceeded to have drinks with the birthday boy and some other people, one of whom I probably shouldn't associate with whatsoever because it would cause too much drama, and we all know I need LESS drama in my life, not more. However, I seem to have a pattern of making horrendous relationship choices, so why stop now? It would be so unlike me to choose someone that's good for me, and also so much less entertaining for you people because I plan to document all my dating screw-ups here from now on. Excited? I know I am.

    My plans for this week include visiting a strip club, spending all the gift cards I got for Xmas, masturbating excessively, doing laundry, treating myself to some new porn, writing some new articles for Cult of the One Eyed Cat, and working on my self-portrait project.

    Clearly, my life rules.

    Jeremy Jeremy Jeremy


    babbled by Kat @ 10:35:00 AM | |


    Wednesday, January 14, 2004

    Not long ago but far away:

    Have you ever felt the exact moment that your heart begins to break?

    I have.


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


    Tuesday, January 13, 2004

    Doubting if there's a woman in there somewhere:

    Dumb blonde eats own hand. Story at 11.I thought I would post a follow-up to yesterday's post about my fucked up love life. I will tell you which bachelor I am smitten with, which one the readers liked, and what my final decision is. I know you are on the edge of your seat, anxiously awaiting this information, but keep your panties on, I'll get to it as quickly as possible.

    First I'll tackle what the readership says. We have two votes for #1, two votes for #3, one vote for #2, and two votes for just carrying on with all three like the naughty girl you all know I can be. I tend to favor this last option because it potentially brings with it three times more orgasms than choosing just one suitor. However, I can foresee it becoming quite tiring. Then again, I would be getting a lot more exercise and probably wouldn't have any time left over after all the hot sweaty action I'd be getting to do anything but sleep, so this option is probably the healthiest choice.

    Now, the one that got me all retarded over him was Bachelor #2, aka the pseudoboyfriend. The only person who voted for him was Scott, who probably didn't know who he was voting for. And I quote: "Pick the one who listens to the Sisters most frequently, but who is LEAST like Andrew Eldritch." Yep, that's pseudoboyfriend in a nutshell.

    But.

    I have to make an executive decision here. One guy lives out of state. One guy lives next door AND is my ex's roommate (although she's apparently fine with it. Who knew?). And the one I like the most is giving me major mixed messages. I am far too awesome to play the mixed messages game.

    So, my final decision?

    None of the above.

    (Well, technically, since this is a blog post, it's none of the below, but that doesn't sound right.)

    I'll be accepting new applications from potential makeout partners starting.... now.

    The Cult of the One Eyed Cat is beckoning you.


    babbled by Kat @ 3:43:00 PM | |


    Monday, January 12, 2004

    Love American Style:

    I had a dream last night that I met Robin Williams and Henry Winkler at a party in honor of my paternal grandmother. Since I really did meet the Fonz last week, I guess it's not too surprising that he should make an appearance in my dream, but wtf was Robin Williams doing there? I think my subconscious has been secretly smoking crack again.

    On an entirely unrelated note, my love life (so to speak) has been quite interesting lately. There are several people who have been vying for the role of My Significant Other in the ongoing production of As the Fez Turns. I will list their attributes here and we'll see if those of you playing along at home can figure out which one of them has me completely smitten. Bonus points if you can figure it out and don't actually know me in real life. (You may also offer up your opinion as to who I should choose, bearing in mind that I will probably not listen to your advice.)

    Keep in mind that even though I have notoriously loose morals, I have not slept with any of these people. Shocking, I know. I'll remedy that as soon as possible. I have, however, made out with all of them, because making out is awesome and you probably don't do it enough, so go grab your significant other when you are done playing Dirty Fez: the Home Game™ and make out with him/her/it. You'll thank me later.

    Bachelor #1: Has also been referred to here as zerogaugearizonian. As his nickname indicates, he is a resident of Arizona, which I am not. As his nickname also indicates, he has a rather large tongue piercing. He's about 6 years younger than me, 6'5" and super hot. Used the phrase "If you mess with Kat, you get the CLAWS" without ever having read my website, which of course earned him a gold star. Pros: Excellent kisser, super tall, ridiculously intelligent. Cons: Lives in another state, for chrissakes.

    Bachelor #2: Has also been referred to here as pseudoboyfriend, because half the people at the Brewery think that we're dating because (gasp) we go to dinner together. Scandalous! He's tall, has longish blond hair and blue eyes, and though he is 14 years older than me still goes out skateboarding regularly. He sells antiques and has been known to show up on my doorstep bearing vintage gifts. We like gifts. Pros: Excellent kisser, shares my insanely eclectic taste in music, knows where every single awesome hole in the wall restaurant is in Los Angeles. Cons: Lives in the same apartment complex as me, is so busy that sometimes he doesn't even have time to talk to me on the phone.

    Bachelor #3: Hasn't been mentioned here before, so I'll call him kosherboi, because he's Jewish and I'm subtle like that. He's an actor, therefore will either be jobless forever or become world-famous and maybe end up on a future season of the Surreal Life. He also enjoys the sci-fi as much as I do, and doesn't think it is dorky that I sometimes wear a Justice League shirt and go to comic book conventions. Makes me laugh a lot. We like laughing. Pros: Excellent kisser, understands my geekiness. Cons: Lives not only in the same complex, but basically next door, and is also my ex's roommate.

    Thank you for playing Dirty Fez: The Home Game™. And the winner is....?


    babbled by Kat @ 10:21:00 AM | |


    Thursday, January 08, 2004

    Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty:

    The shit that went down in the first few days of this week made me all grumpy and pissy and just basically a giant pain in the ass, but fortunately I'm cute, charming, smart, funny, and modest, so my friends were all able to overlook my pissy mood and love me anyway. I was about to gouge out my liver with a rusty spork at one point just to take my mind off all of the stressful bullshit I was having to deal with, and if you think that the stuff in yesterday's post was not enough to warrant such drastic action, you are totally correct. I left out some additional stress-causing things that were happening in my life because as a super top-secret ninja assassin in the Irish mafia I am under a strict non-disclosure agreement and am unable to discuss anything in detail about my job. All I can say is that lately it has been causing me a lot of stress, but now that they have assigned a personal masseuse to my detail named Biff that is not only built like a brick shithouse but is also mute and as dumb as a bag of Donovan McNabb's hair, I think my stress levels are about to decrease significantly.

    The new masseuse doesn't start work until next Monday so since I wasn't going to have a happy ending massage last night, I went to the Acme Comedy Theatre to see the J. Keith van Straaten show. You see, Keith is running in the AIDS Marathon this Sunday and he had this show to raise cashmoneys to benefit AIDS Project Los Angeles. Since I am a totally selfless person, I love to give money to charity, which is why I also love to write off those donations on my tax return. Besides, last night's guests included a band full of hot guys, a hilarious comedian with a great rack, and none other than the Fonz, plus Keith's sexy yet non-threatening sidekick Wil, and I just couldn't pass up a lineup like that. After saying hi to friends and flirting my ass off with the dude at the box office, I watched the show and proceeded to laugh so hard that I think a little pee came out. I have to say that if you do not go to the post-marathon show on the 26th, at the same venue, the proceeds of which are also benefiting AIDS Project L.A., you must be dead inside because really, how often do you get to laugh so hard that you PEE? Also, if you don't go I will send ninja assassins to your house.

    These comics will also make you laugh until you pee


    babbled by Kat @ 10:36:00 AM | |


    Wednesday, January 07, 2004

    Look right through me:

    You know what? I love it when my car has electrical problems and even though it's under warranty and I made an appointment at the dealership a whole buttload of people just took their cars in at the same time I did, without appointments, and got to go ahead of me. I also love it when the "service advisor" tells me that my car will be ready later that day so I hang out in Pasadena for most of the day trying to get some work done but the service advisor doesn't call and then when I go back over to the dealership he tells me that not only has my car not even been fucking looked at, but it probably wouldn't be looked at until the very end of the day and therefore wouldn't be ready until at least the next afternoon.

    You know what else? I love it when I think that everything is going really well and I'm really excited about someone and then something changes and they start acting distant and uninterested. I also love it when I get even more excited about someone else after I finally abort the mission with the other person and though everything seems promising at first, the resulting physical encounter is so depressing that it makes me want to swear off sex forever.

    I love it when I have such a hard time sleeping that I am exhausted by mid-morning every day and have to talk on the phone (with a headset, of course, both hands on the wheel, so save the hate mail) the entire drive home from work so that I don't fucking fall asleep.

    I especially love it when all of the things above combined put me in such a bad mood that I write grossly self-pitying posts like this one.

    America for Sale is amazing. Go read it. Now.


    babbled by Kat @ 11:14:00 AM | |


    Monday, January 05, 2004

    You'll wonder what it is about me:

    If the past four days are any indication, 2004 is going to be totally fucking awesome.

    It all started out on New Year's Eve, which is usually a total suckfest as far as I'm concerned, because I hate forced celebration and the type of parties where people count down and practically pee themselves with glee just because the clock went "sup it's midnight". This time, however, I just went over to my neighbor's place, where a handful of my friends were hanging out, which was wonderful and laid back and just what I needed.

    I spent New Year's Day just relaxing and chilling out, because I knew I had some major party preparation to attend to in the next couple of days and I wanted to make sure I was well rested. I'm glad I did that because the next two days were a fucking whirlwind of seemingly neverending tasks. Throwing a kickass party is hard work, you know.

    Friday was spent running all over the goddamn place spending metric asstons of cash on various and sundry items for the party. I was glad I decided to have the party in the first place, because it gave me a convenient excuse to do a little redecorating. I went to Lowe's, Ikea, Krispy Kreme, Target, Urban Outfitters, Z Gallerie, Prix, Bristol Farms, Trader Joe's, and Smart & Final. After lugging all of the crap I bought at said locations upstairs, I had to unload all of it, assemble whatever needed assembly, and shoot myself several times as revenge for trying to plan something like this in the first place.

    Saturday saw me working my ass off, cleaning, making food, and ripping MP3s. I decided that I should be all high-tech like the geek goddess that I am and create a huge MP3 playlist on my laptop and then hook it up to my stereo, thus eliminating any requirement for me to play DJ throughout the evening. It worked out well, but really, how can you go wrong with a mix that contains Guns 'n' Roses, Public Enemy, and David Bowie? That's just pure audio gold, my friends.

    The party was a smashing success. Some highlights: Kari and Steve brought me awesome presents, saw my boobs, and cleaned up after I tragically broke my best martini glass; Jim came all the way from Orange County, was a big hit with my friends, and if you can believe it, is even hotter in person; Sean successfully broke his resolution to be nicer to people; Jessica made me the most awesome present ever and, in addition to being Ms. Bling herself, is a master of all things tealight; two of my neighbors compared penis size in my kitchen; and I realized that not only are all of my friends really kickass and smart and amazing, they are also all really good-looking.

    I'm probably forgetting some things, because I was ridiculously drunk due to the combination of a lack of dinner and two large martinis, but I will say this: 2004 is gonna be mo' betta awesome.


    babbled by Kat @ 9:25:00 AM | |