When Donkeys Fly

To be or not to be.

2010-04-10T04:33:00.000-07:00

Finding it really hard to sleep, these days. Also finding it very hard not to cry. I can't seem to shake the grief of losing my father, and I can't help but wonder how much easier that would be to do if I had some sort of focus in my life.

I've been thinking a lot about mortality. Because I lost my father and because I have several lumps in my breast. I find it very hard to connect with the idea I might actually have breast cancer and the meaning in that. I just can't. Which is a good thing, I suppose. I think if I actually thought about what it means to have breast cancer, it might crush me. But while I suspect it has much to do with the irritability I'm battling and the constant urge to breakdown and cry, there's just no room for it in my reality. I reject it outright. I have never believed cancer can kill me. All it can really do is make things harder. Because if there's one thing I've learned from my life, it's that there are no easy ways out, and any chance Life gets to fuck you up further, it will take. So really, I view cancer as more of an inconvenient little "screw you" to my bank balance and my personal life than I do a disease that could actually cause death.

But I like to keep the bases covered, so I have actually considered what might occur if I do, in fact, have cancer, and it does manage, despite all personal experience and evidence to the contrary, to cause the terminal part of my life to come so sharply into focus that the light at the end of the tunnel does turn out to be the proverbial train. And at the moment, at least - what with it being all theoretical and shit - I find myself not particularly bothered. Which is a rather odd feeling. More than anything, I just don't want to leave my dogs. That thought fills me with a deep and unbearable sadness. I don't want to leave them. People are fine. People you can say goodbye to. But dogs, dogs don't get it. Dogs are like, "Where did she go? Why did she abandon us? When is she coming back?" And that really, profoundly, disturbs me. So for them, I would really prefer the lumps in my breast be nothing more than cysts or benign tumors. And frankly, since I'd really prefer no one take a scalpel to my person, cysts would really be best. The kind you can aspirate with a needle - which, by the way, sounds only marginally less unpleasant than the aforementioned scalpel. Then also, there's the problem of Pete, and what to do with him. Pete, as you know, is very important to me, and he really needs to go to a good home, with someone who will understand the magic and importance of Pete, that he is a very real creature, who needs to be loved and held and treasured, and not stuck in a box somewhere and forgotten. I need to know that Pete will always be treasured and loved, for the rest of time. Which is probably a HUGE issue some psychiatrist somewhere could build an entire book around, but that's how I feel about Pete.

So there you go. These are the things I am somewhat ambivalently concerned with at present. Cheery, no?

No.

Cleanse Day 5

2010-02-06T01:48:00.000-08:00

I went off the cleanse today because I spent most of my waking hours at Calli's son Wyatt's 1st birthday party.

I should have stuck to the salad.

It's amazing the difference in just 5 days of cleansing. A) meat is not good. I think plain chicken will be fine, but sausage (turkey) is gross. B) apparently, I am sensitive to wheat or gluten or both, because I had a little capellini and some cake, and about 2 hours later, I felt like I couldn't breathe, I was congested, and my throat was full of phlegm. That's a major bummer, because I love bread and pasta, but at least now I know what probably triggers that reaction in me (the cleanse bans wheat and gluten). I get that condition a lot, and it's miserable. I also eat a lot of bread and pasta. So again, bummer. Bread and pasta, I will miss you.

I am back on the cleanse tomorrow. I just like how it feels a LOT better.

The party was really nice. I finally got to actually talk to Calli's friend Cristen, and she's cool. I'm glad I finally got to meet her for real, rather than just seeing her in passing. And Wyatt's a cutie pie. I can't wait till he's talking and old enough to do stuff like go to Disneyland. :) He glommed onto me just before I was leaving and laid his head on my shoulder. He's such a little heartbreaker, that one. :) I wish I knew my own niece and nephew as well as I know Calli's kids, but when you're not a close family and you live 1400 miles from the kids in question, it just doesn't work out. It makes me sad, sometimes. I love my Yoda brother, so I really wish I saw him more. Darth Brother, not so much, but Yoda brother is cool. The ugliness over the dairy has increased. Darth Brother did not like my shove it email and sent one back of his own, and boy, did he get ugly. Like really ugly. I had felt a little guilty about the tone of my mail and was going to apologize, but then I read today's missive and decided fuck that. I told him just to do whatever needed to be done and that I don't want to hear about it again except for a heads up before the sale is final so that I can go out and take photos and rebury my dad's ashes deeper. And then I really don't care if I never talk to him again. I didn't tell him that, but there's been no love lost between us since 1980, and that's clearly not going to change. He's an unmitigated ass, and I'm sick of his condescending, arrogant bullshit.

*sigh*

later,
kd

Cleanse Days 3 & 4

2010-02-05T02:25:00.000-08:00

Day 3 still yummy. Craving sugar and Diet Coke big time. No surprise, there. :( Addiction is a beyotch. I had some issues with the quinoa & red lentil patties, in that I put too much water in, so it turned out much more like porridge than patties. Ah well. Moira tells me to add cornmeal if it happens again, so I picked some up at the store tonight.

Day 4 not so yummy, but that's just personal preference. It was butternut squash, which I love, but it had an Indian flavor, which I'm not a huge fan of, in general. I mean, I like Indian food, and I love me the curry, but not in my butternut squash soup, which I prefer to be more buttery and savory than cardamom-y and sweet. If I'd left out the cinnamon and cardamom, I probably would have liked it a lot more. It was a good recipe, just not how I normally spice my butternut squash soup. Ty LOVED it. Better than mine, so what do I know, I guess. :)

As far as the cleansing goes, I'm definitely going through an adjustment period the last 2 days. I don't have a lot more energy yet, but I do feel healthier, so that's good. :) And I like that the food's not heavy, and I can just about eat as much as I want without feeling guilty. There's no portion control. I probably shouldn't stuff myself, because that's not good for anybody, no matter what you're eating, but somehow I think stuffing myself on lentils and salad is not the same as doing it with breaded chicken and mashed potatoes. So right now, I'm not worrying about how much I eat. And I definitely want to do the spring and summer cleanses, as well. I can definitely see some physical changes for the better - my tongue is not so cut any longer, and I'm not getting any new white spots in my nails...those had suddenly sprung up overnight, and it was CRAZY. I had TONS of them. I mean seriously, people, holy smokes. Thankfully though, there aren't any new ones. I think my skin is starting to look a little rosier and more clear, but since it's only been 4 days, that's probably my imagination. Still, I'm liking the dietary changes, and we've decided to limit our meals with meat to only 3 or so a week, and much smaller portions. I'm just going to augment the meals with stuff like quinoa, which is really easy to make, and now I know how to season it for more noms. :)

So there you have it. In other news, my brother emailed me he's selling my dad's dairy. That's a whole nother post on its own, and not a happy one, so I'm not gonna talk about it now, if ever. Suffice to say I'm bitter and angry and resentful, and I let him know it. It's one thing to tell me it has to be sold. It's another to misrepresent facts in evidence and hard sell me on it while telling me you'd really like the money for it so that you can go to grad school when Mom & Dad paid for your frigging college education, car, computer, off-campus apartment, and you got to go to a good school (UT), while I paid for all my own college expenses and ended up having to drop out because I couldn't go to school and pay rent at the same time, because no one was paying my frigging rent. Or for my car. Or gas. Or car insurance. Or, you know, FOOD. And at UTA, because that was the only school I could afford to attend. So hai - u SUCK.

Yeah. That's a whole nother post.

Later,
kd

Cleanse Day 2

2010-02-03T02:09:00.000-08:00

If you guys are interested in taking part in the winter cleanse I'm doing, head over to Moira's website, where she's offering her winter cleanse and ebook for free. Normally, it's $180. Just enter the promo code "moirafree" (without quote marks) in the discount code box on the left side of the page, click "update cart," and follow the directions from there. Moira will email you a link to your free ebook and information on the cleanse. I heartily recommend it. Today's lunch was yummy veggie "sushi" rolls and dinner was awesome - and EASY - potato-leek soup. I can't tell you guys how delicious and easy to make all this food is. I am loving this cleanse so much that I have decided that when it's over, I'm going to restrict my meat intake to 3, maybe 4, days a week. I'm going to see if Moira's got a cookbook out, and if not, I fully intend to pester her into oblivion until she does. I know a good thing when I see one, and Miss Moira is it. :)

xo,
katie

Veggie Cleanse Day 1

2010-02-01T23:30:00.000-08:00

I'm doing a veggie cleanse, and today was Day 1. It went pretty well. I'm going it because I want to get healthier, and all the processed food I've been eating for years has caught up with me. I could sure kill for a soda and some sugar right now, though.

That's about all I've got. It's been alternating between unbelievably boring and pretty suck, so far this year. So I'm just focussing on getting healthier.

How are you guys?

URGENT - Dogs & Puppies Need Help NOW. Please read & pass on.

2010-01-13T19:23:00.000-08:00

I posted to my public blog yesterday but forgot to post here. The shelter in Gaston, North Carolina, has an abundance of dogs & puppies in need of foster homes or adoption, or they will be gassed. This is urgent, as the shelter began gassing today. Please read the details for foster/adoption below, and pass them on. Let's get these guys some safe places or homes. And if you can donate to Help Save One, please do - your donation will also help save these dogs. If you can't get to NC, transport is being arranged, so please don't assume you can't take one of the dogs/puppies.

Foster homes needed for puppies (East Coast). please pass on [from Help Save One] Ok, things are getting desperate here. We have ten teeny tiny puppies that need a foster, that no one has stepped up for. We've had a lot of trouble finding foster homes lately... it seems that around this time las...t year, we had more fosters than we had dogs, and now, we can't even find one person to help!

Our transport is currently on the road, going from NH to NC and we can drop off anywhere along the way (except MA, as usual). We have 7 itty bitty shepherd mixes that look like little jelly beans, are are maybe 34 pounds each. They're 8 weeks old.We also have 3 chihuahua mixes that are a little too big to be chihuahua mixes.. maybe whippet/min pin... See More ... See Moremixes. Still small, though. 10 weeks old.We need to place these puppies ASAP. Transport is on the road, as I said, so please, even if you can just take one, it would help us out a ton.Send a message or email fostering@helpsaveone.org if you can help!We also have an adult lab that needs a foster, as well as a few of the Spalding dogs that need a place to go, if you'd prefer an adult.

2009 Can Fucking Bite Me

2010-01-01T03:46:00.000-08:00

I should not be surprised, but 2009 found a way to emotionally bitchslap my ass one last time before the new year could arrive. My brother informs me we have to sell the land my dad did not want us to sell. The land we busted our asses working on when I was a kid. The land he loved so much that he died working it. The land he wanted to be buried on and that we scattered his ashes across and that me and my stepbrother buried the last half of those ashes on. I can't tell you how upsetting this is. I need $38,000 to rectify this crap, and fast. Anybody got some extra cash lying around? No? Yeah, didn't think so. Neither do I.

Probate law is fucking stupid, btw. Monies owed have to be paid back by the estate. If they're paid by a person, that person has to assume responsibility for the entire debt of the estate. But the estate can't be settled until all the debt is paid...which in some cases, it can't be until the estate is settled. Are you getting an idea of the level of fuckitude I'm dealing with, here? Yeah.

BTW, please don't try to be helpful and start telling me what probate law is. It varies from state to state, and we have a probate attorney. Believe me, if there were a way around the fubar, I'd be on it. I won't know more until I can talk to my brothers. This landed in my lap at 10pm last night. In fucking email, because my brother is an asshat.

This has honestly been the worst year in the worst 11-year period of my entire life. 2010 is not shaping up to be much better. My only solace at all is in finding out 2009 was the suck for pretty much everyone I know. I'm sorry they had shite years too, but at least I know it was an across the board suckfest, so God wasn't just gunning for me - he dropped the bomb on everyone.

Here's praying with everything I've got that 2010 improves, and fast. Because I can't take another year like this one.

I laughed until I cried. :)

2009-12-03T18:34:00.000-08:00

We will be ending today's entry on a happy note, but first...

The frosting on the cake of my year was finding out TODAY that I have to spend my birthday TOMORROW standing in line at the DMV. Do not ask. Put it down to the SNAFU that is California public-service-slash-government right now, and let's move on. Suffice to say, it sucks it. The DMV here is not like other DMV's, except for maybe New York. In Dallas, when I had to go to the DMV, the longest it ever took me was an hour, once. Usually, I was in and out in under 20 minutes. Here, it's an arduous 3-hour-minimum wait in line which usually culminates in the bitchiest civil servant you will ever encounter in your life shoving a piece of paper across the counter at you in the most hateful manner possible and barking at you to go stand in another line. And since I live in the west end of the San Fernando Valley, I get to do it with all the human flotsam and jetsam the universe has seen fit to dump in the Greater Los Angeles area commonly referred to as "the suburbs." In the 40's and 50's, the Valley was in its heyday. Lucille Ball & Desi Arnez lived out here. The Warner movie ranch was here, and just about every western shot in Southern California was shot a mile from my house. It was orange groves as far as the eye could see, and Sherman Way was THE artery that ran from Los Angeles way out here to "the country" and the stars.

But that was 50, 60 years ago, and my how things have changed. Now it's mostly a rundown dustbowl filled with old buildings badly in need of face lifts and an overflowing population. The Warner Ranch is now Warner Center - a collection of office buildings, a few hotels, HUGE apartment/condo complexes, and the emptiest shopping mall I've ever been in. Sherman Way is now lined with billboards, ancient strip malls of repair shops and dive bars, used car dealerships, fast food restaurants, pawn shops, dollar stores, and ethnic establishments from supermarkets to Latino music stores. Its gutters are usually peppered heavily with refuse, which - in addition to the usual fast food wrappers & broken bits of automobile - may include (and usually does) portions of furniture or items of clothing ranging from single sneakers to pairs of jeans or someone's coat. I once saw an entire arm chair in the middle of the road, lying on its back and held together with tons of duct tape.

The DMV sits in the midst of all that and is probably my LEAST favorite place to have to go in all of Los Angeles. (So far, anyway.) So I'm thrilled I get to spend my birthday hanging out there. I've decided I'm going to buy a lottery ticket tomorrow, because with all the karmic debt I've paid off this year, I kinda feel like the universe owes me a little change.

And now, for your viewing pleasure, the single most adorable and hilarious 12 second video you will ever see. I literally watched it until I cried, I was laughing so much.

Yeah, this isn't working for me.

2009-12-01T06:24:00.000-08:00

Hideously depressed. The Wellbutrin honeymoon is over, and clearly what I was getting from it was the placebo effect, because I have crashed and burned hard the last 2, going on 3, weeks.

Somebody please make the black hole in my chest go away before it swallows me alive. I can't breathe. :(

Has it really been a year already?

2009-11-28T01:55:00.000-08:00

I really don't want to have a birthday this year. I'll be 46, which is crappy enough on its own, and it's been the worst year of my entire life. I just want it to be over. And I'm kinda torn, because it's my birthday, and I really wish that it could be special, but I also just want it gone. It's a conundrum. And not in a good way. I wish I could just go to sleep and wake up and have it be 2010 already. And maybe make this year just a terrible dream. Where the hell is a reset button when you need one?

kd

Non-Sequitur, Anyone?

2009-11-10T17:16:00.000-08:00

Boy, was I absent a while, or what? I love twitter. It's the new blog, and a lot easier, so I'm sorry, but I was cheating on you with twitter. I'd love to tell you it won't happen again, but I think we both know it will. Twitter just does it for me, baby. But we can still be friends. ;)

Let's see...anti-depressants. I've been taking generic Wellbutrin. Aside from the initial placebo effect, it doesn't seem to do much more than give me a vague sense of hope. But that's more than I had before, so I keep taking it. My doc says she'll up my dosage when I prove I can take it 2x a day every day, like I'm supposed to. So I'll be lying and tell her I have been when I go in again at beginning of December. I'm sorry but I just can not remember to take something twice a frigging day. I mean, I can if it doesn't have to be a set amount of time apart - in this case, 12 hours - but scheduling my damn drugs is just not something I can do. It's a serious problem when I have to take antibiotics 3 or 4 times a day. I mean, I have trouble remembering to take my birth control pill, for crying out loud, and that's something I just have to do once a day, at bedtime. Twice a day is really just asking too much. I could take it once a day at a higher dose, and when I was taking 150mg a day, that's what I did, but 150 made me feel twitchy, so neither I nor my doctor felt 200 at a shot was a good idea. So I take 100 twice. When I can remember. Oy.

Still job hunting. Still to no avail. I did send my resume to one woman who then called and said she'd be calling me back to set up an interview, and then nothing happened. It's part-time as a mammogram technician. Oo. Ah. What I'd like to do (assuming nothing really cool is out there) is wait tables. Decent money, part-time, and I can pursue my own stuff, which is really where it's at.

I wish I could figure out a way to make my photography pay. I also wish I could finish a novel and get it published. I was doing NaNoWriMo, but I petered out on what I was working on, mostly because I don't have a clear sense of direction on it, which wouldn't be a problem since that's how I write nearly everything, but this is chicklit, and that's a whole new genre for me. I know the salient points of the story, which I also always do, but I can't figure out how to dress them. Voice is no problem, it's getting from each point to the next that's the sticking point. It's just not telling itself at all. Usually when I write something, it tells itself, and all I have to do is the typing. That hasn't happened for a really long time, which sucks. I just feel empty inside every time I sit down to write. I can't explain it, and it's miserable. I have no fewer than 5 novels in progress, one of them more than halfway finished, and I just can't seem to write anything at all. It's frustrating.

I recently discovered The Bloggess on twitter, and as her name implies, she blogs. Very well. And this is hilarious.

I got a partial crown done 2 weeks ago, and it was hell. I really should blog it on its own, because holy moly. I have 2 more crowns to go, and I can't tell you how much I don't want them done. EVER. And now I have severe TMJ and do not have full range of motion in my jaw. And what I do have is really screwed up. Like Frankenstein screwed up. It is not good. :( I should take a picture, coz you guys will be all, "holy crap, what up with THAT, Katie?" And I'll be all, "yeah."

Know what I wish I had (besides $100 million, I mean)? A working oven. A working drier would be nice, too. Both need new switches, and I'm [this] far away from pulling each of the damned things out from the wall myself and getting in there to tinker, despite having absolutely zero knowledge of repair for either appliance. I NEED AN OVEN, folks. And a drier will be necessary once the cold and rain hit. I despise the laundromat.

My mom is coming here on Thursday and staying with my aunt out in Ontario. She'll be here till next Tuesday and wants us to do stuff like hike Mt. Baldy and go to Knott's Berry Farm. There will probably be dinner at my aunt & uncle's down in San Diego, too. That's a LOT of driving, yo. And time with my mother. I view the weekend with no small amount of trepidation.

Did I mention I'm shopping for dental insurance? My COBRA ends December 31, and since I really can't face having 2 more crowns done between now and then, I really have to buy more coverage so that I can have the last crown done next year sometime. I'm really not kidding you guys that I just can't have 2 done in the next 30 days. And I can't do them both at once, because the old fillings have to be drilled out first, and if you've never had that experience, you don't know what vile is. Seriously. I'll blog it later. You'll shudder. I'm not kidding. It still hurts. :( I'm not sure that dentist was a good dentist. I've never had such a bad dentist experience, but maybe this kind of thing is normal for crowns. You guys will have to let me know.

But for now, I have to go to Kinko's and have some stuff printed for TB.

xo,
kd

For the love of...

2009-08-06T18:53:00.000-07:00

I can not use a SINGLE ONE of the websites I use daily, and it's starting to really piss me off. Both Twitter & the Daily Plate are failing to load. I'm aware that some frigging moron - or group of morons - thought it would be fun to launch a punk/DoS attack on twitter. I have no idea what the DP's problem is. I can't get into a few other places either, so I suppose it's just the Day of the Asshole or Malfunctioning Web today.

I'm going back on anti-depressants so that I can actually live life and get things done. I started a new one Tuesday night, and it knocked me on my ass. In addition to making me feel like I hadn't slept in 48-72 hours, it also made me cranky, weepy, a little more hungry than usual, and almost completely lacking in impulse-control. Part of my brain actually figured hitting people who irritated me in the face with shovels was a perfectly reasonable response to the irritation. Thankfully, the rest of my brain was in control and knew that would be A Bad Thing To Do. Still, it made for an extremely trying 36 hours, during which I got into a huge fight with the boyfriend, found it really difficult not to hit my dogs, and said really inappropriate things to everyone else I had contact with. I also cried a LOT and felt utterly wiped out and exhausted, without the strength to get thru the 5 minutes immediately following, let alone the rest of my life. It was still hazing me when I woke up this morning at 9:30, despite my not having taken it last night, because I had to be lucid to talk to EDD & B&N corporate today. I went back to bed around 11, and when I woke up at 2, I was clear of it, at last. I will be phoning my doctor tomorrow to tell him there is No Way In Hell I will be taking THAT again. (It was mirtazapine - aka Remeron - for those of you keeping score or considering it yourself.) I am mortified at the things I said when I went on a dog walk with my neighbors. I said bad stuff to my long, no-longer-lost friend Vanessa on the phone, too, but at least she knows me enough to write off the really wacky stuff. The neighbors don't, and trust me when I tell you, I was a bit psycho. (And THAT ought to really freak out long-time readers of the KD blog.) :(

Vanessa is a post for another day; we finally found each other again after 29 years, and I'm thrilled. We were really tight, back in the day, and I love her so much. I'm glad we have a mutual friend who was able to connect us - and that's a story in itself. :) Aside from my best friend Gayle, Vanessa is the friend I've had the longest. I've known her since 5th grade. It's nice to have a sense of history, you know? When your parents move you around a lot, and your family is broken on top of it, it's really hard to maintain any sense of history. The past disintegrates with every move and every broken connection to The Time Before. So yay for the return of lost friendships. :)

ttyl; peace out.

My Heroes Have Always Been Cyclists

2009-07-21T22:52:00.001-07:00

Watching the Tour de France this summer, I've been examining near daily why it is I love Lance Armstrong - and by proxy, the Tour de France - so very much. Why I love the Tour is fairly easy: it's one of the last situations on earth where cheating is not tolerated, good sportsmanship is expected, and determination is maybe just a tad more important than physical ability - an underdog has just as much a shot at taking it as anyone else, and the whole thing can turn on a dime; one day you're down without a chance in hell of catching up, the next you're in yellow and winning the race. The men who race the Tour are incredible athletes, and I wish I had one tenth their drive and resolve. So my love of the race is no big mystery. But why Lance Armstrong? What is it about him that causes such excitement and joy? In part, that's a tough call. What makes a sports hero, and why do we love them? What need do they fulfill? On the surface, it's easy to check off the big things: he not only survived cancer, he came back from it to win the Tour de France a record 7 times in a row; he spends his time tirelessly working to raise money for cancer and help motivate others with the disease to kick its ass as he did; he's a good sportsman; he's a winner. But those aren't actually the reasons I love the man, though they certainly don't hurt. No, I love Lance Armstrong because he walks softly, carries a big stick, is a shrewd competitor, and he gets it done - without bluster or excuses.

At least, that's why I thought I admired him.

But this Tour has shown me there's more to it than that. After 4 years away from the toughest sporting event in the entire world, he had the guts to return to it, at 37 years of age, in the face of near constant and false accusations of doping, against pretty much all odds, to say, "I'm back, I'm here, and not only do I not dope, I'm gonna take all the crap you can throw at me and more, and I'm gonna kick all of your butts AND take your names while I'm at it. And you know why? Because I love cycling, and I hate cancer, and I'm so committed to raising awareness that I'm gonna put up with everything you can throw at me, PLUS ride my bike 2500 miles in the heat and cold and wind and rain, up mountains other people can barely walk up, and then right back down through winding, switchback roads at ridiculously high, dangerous speeds, all for FREE. So taste THAT, World. I. Am. HERE."

It would have been easy to rest on his laurels, work with the foundation that bears his name, and hang out with more than a few of the world's hoi palloi and movers and shakers, living the cush life, but he didn't do that. He came back to the race, and he did it pretty much on his terms, and he gives me a reason to keep going every day, even when I feel miserable. Because if Lance Armstrong can return to the Tour, I can get back in shape. And if he wins, I am not old, and I do not have to give in to aging. Every single doping control he passes with flying colors (despite what seems to be a petty vendetta by the UCI) is vindication for my belief that a human being can accomplish great things honestly, without cheating or lying or doping or any other deceitful practice. That, most of all, hard work and perseverence really do pay off, even if it's only some of the time.

It's been a rollercoaster ride, this Tour. Despite my hopes and the fact that he's been riding well, Lance hasn't won any stages, nor has he at any point in the race been wearing yellow. And I admit to feeling more than a passing bit of animosity towards Alberto Contador, who may or may not be referred to as "the weasel" in this household...and a few of my tweets. It was tough to watch Contador pull away from Lance and to see the Spaniard in yellow, especially when it seems as though Contador has more than a few attitude problems and demonstrates some very unsportsmanlike behavior - and on a purely emotional level, Contador's Stage 15 move into yellow was akin to watching Lex Luthor shoot Superman in the back and get away with it. But the thing is, with Lance, there's always next time. And when you least expect it, he will roll right over you with an apparent ease mindboggling in its beauty. So maybe this isn't the year he will once again stand in yellow on the podium in Paris, and maybe it is. But one thing I do know is this: if he wants to, he'll stand there again someday. And that is good enough for me.

So um...how'd that happen, again?

2009-07-14T02:28:00.000-07:00

May be working on a memoir and book about Elvis Presley soon. The random bizarreness of life in LA sort of sneaks up and sucker punches you, sometimes. I can honestly tell you that in summer, 1977, if you had told barely teenaged me that I was going to one day help write a book about Elvis Presley - or how that was going to come about, I'd have told you you were certifiably insane. For that matter, if you'd told me that just last month, I'd have asked you if you were high.

Life is strange. And getting stranger. There's more to it, but that's all I feel at liberty to say without betraying confidences.

The book is actually already written. My job will be to help shore it up for sending out - to edit it for an editor to edit, basically. I'm pretty good at that, if I do say so myself. Won't know more until I've had a chance to read the first chapter and make notes for the writer, and we can decide whether or not working together is something we want to do. I feel if we can come to a satisfactory agreement on expectation and compensation, it should go well. I'm really interested in the project, and the person writing the book seems very sincere. So we'll see.

Can I get an eyeroll?

2009-07-08T18:05:00.000-07:00

From The Free Republic today:

"No one can honestly make the case that the Palins didn't take more heat than other public families."

Really? 'Cause Hillary Clinton did not get POUNDED on when Bill was president, and NO ONE made fun of Chelsea Clinton or attacked either Chelsea or Hillary personally on their physical appearances, nor did anyone rip on the Clintons' relationship.

Riiiiiiiiight.

I hated the Clintons, and even I had to acknowledge they got brutalized. TFR - and Kathleen Parker, specifically - need a reality check. Big time.

The Revolution Will Be Tweeted

2009-06-21T03:18:00.000-07:00

I have spent the last several days "watching" events unfold in Iran via Twitter and participating - to the extent that I can, sitting halfway around the world - in passing on what information I could verify as fact. It has been, in the way of the ancient Chinese proverb, interesting. Twitter has become the poster site for a new kind of communication, in a way I do not believe even Evan Williams and Biz Stone (the founders of twitter) ever dreamed it could be. It has proven its relevance to today's society arguably more surely than any start-up in the last 50 years.

Using the hashtag (a tag, or search term) #iranelection to search for news turns up thousands of new tweets every minute, a flood of information, some of it factual, some of it not, all of it (spammers aside) having to do with the protests in Iran. During the media blackout of yesterday - and the even heavier blackout all day and night today - it was the only way to find out what might be happening on the ground in Tehran and around that country. But more than updates from the front and support for those on the ground from the rest of the world, the hashtag has become a giant game of Telephone, a two-way stream of resistance passing the word from one protestor to another, sometimes directly, but also largely via strangers sitting at their keyboards thousands of miles away, retweeting (passing on) the information and sending it out to their own network of friends and followers, for even more people to see and pass on. Tweets* have gone out with everything from news of where the clashes between protestor and Basij were located, to advice on what to do when tear-gassed, the addresses and locations of hospitals and embassies offering help, locations protestors should avoid to escape capture or violence, outting tweeters who were fakes or government operatives spreading disinformation, and news of explosions, deaths, and injuries. In addition, protestors have used Twitter to coordinate their rallies and to get the word out about them, to pass on messages from opposition leader Mir-Hossein Mousavi, and to post the url's of other websites containing videos and photographs of the protests.

The Twitterverse has responded to those in Iran with a tidalwave of support, coloring their icons green, the color of Mousavi's supporters, changing the location and timezone listed in their profiles to Tehran or Iran, and passing the word not to repeat the names of Iranian tweeters once it became known that the Ministry in Iran had started to search the site using those parameters to identify members of the opposition. A popular message retweeted at the moment says, "On 9/11, the World said we are all Americans; today, we are all Iranians." Sitting at my keyboard half a world away, waiting for news and hoping for the best, passing on what information I can verify and hope will help, while pundits on CNN rattle about with less information than I, it feels true. In the face of a government-imposed blackout and restrictions resulting in a complete absence of any information-gathering tools of their own, networks and news agencies have themselves turned to twitter for reports of events as they unfold.

Just a few days ago, one of my friends remarked that she just doesn't see the need for twitter or understand why anyone would want to use it. I have a feeling that's about to change. The website has eclipsed its function as mere trend or messaging service and evolved into something more. A new kind of beast. It will be interesting to see where it goes.

*tweets are 140 character text messages
(I blurred the names in the above image to protect the tweeters.)

New Answering Machine Message

2009-06-08T19:31:00.000-07:00

"Thank you for calling Dante's Inferno Room, deep in the 7th Level of Hell. We are located at the corner of It's Not My Fault Drive & I Was Only Following Orders, right next to Good Intentions Bar & Grill. Reserved seating now available."

Also, no new word from the Gel-Nails people.

Spin

2009-06-01T14:07:00.000-07:00

On May 17, I contacted the gel-nails.com website to let them know I was really angry about the very inconsiderate (and I feel, rude) comments made to my entry about scattering Daddy's ashes. I wasn't very nice about it, either. As in, at all. I was more than a little angry, and not inclined to be respectful. Not very cool on my part, since it makes me look bad, but here's what I wrote:

I appreciate that you used a blog entry about my father's death and the horrible experience of spreading his ashes as a springboard to your gel-nails website. What a thoughtful thing to do. I commented to that effect, and you actually commented AGAIN trying to sell me and others on your website and product. You are contemptible. I can only hope that one day, someone does a similar favor for you. Asshole.

Someone there who only identified him/herself as Gel Nails Management replied to me the same day, and this is the email I got back:

How are you,

We are really really sorry for that, we are using marketing company to advertise for us, we have delivered them your email and made complaint, they assured me that who did this will be terminated. We are really sorry and don't know what or how to cover for our mistake, we know we are responsible for it because we hired them.

We apologize for anything they did, our company goals was always to run only best business.

Please forgive us.

Thank you
Gel Nails Management

I figured that was the end of it, and then I got this mail on the 22nd, I assume from the same person, as it bore no closing:

We are extremely sorry about the comment that has been posted on your blog and we would like to rectify this situation by finding out who has done it. We would really appreciate it if you can let us know your blog URL, the username of the person who has posted this comment, the comment posted and the date and time when such a comment was posted.
With these details we will try to track who has done this. Your cooperation in this regard will be really appreciated.

Sincere apologies once again for the inconvenience this has caused you

Interesting. Half of me - okay, a little more than half - thinks they're just trying to placate me and do damage control. But they might be serious. I'll keep you posted.

Mercenary Asshats

2009-05-17T03:09:00.000-07:00

So, the fuckwit who tried to sell me nail glue in comments to my post about spreading Daddy's ashes came back. Are are her/his/its comments, followed by my own, in case the moron gets embarrassed and tries to remove them, because I plan to do everything I can to spread the word about this jerk. Let's see how many other people's grief he/she uses to sell fucking nail products. His/her comments are in italics.

4 comments:
gel said...
Interesting content.

Just wanted to share some information that may help busy professionals caught up with work and who have less time to maintain their nails. You can try out gel nails which are now becoming a hot favorite as they are natural looking even without nail tips and the best way for nail enhancement. Also, if you are allergic to those strong smelling chemicals which you can experience with acrylic nails, then you should use gel nails as these are odorless.

However, when you are planning on gel nail application, make sure you approach a nail salon or a nail artist who is well versed with gel nails and is properly trained and mastered in gel applications. This will save you from problems that can arise with improper gel nail applications.

March 20, 2009 1:40 AM

Katie said...
Dear Gel -

I thank you for your very thoughtful comment regarding the care of my nails. We busy professionals do have trouble finding the time to clean the ashes of our DEAD FATHERS out from under our nails and keeping healthy nailbeds when they've been scoured raw from the grit of ashes and the small bits of bone left after a cremation. It means the world to me that you took the time to offer your thoughts on how I could achieve flawless nails without using harsh chemicals or applying acrylic nails, which I'm sure would fail to stand up to the abuse of dipping one's hands into the ASHES OF ONE'S RECENTLY DECEASED FATHER. I shall hie me to a professional salon and locate a nail artist well versed with gel nails, which I'm sure would stand up much better to the dense grit and mass of cremated human remains; the last thing I want is for a cheapass acrylic nail to come off in the bag with MY FATHER'S ASHES. That would be bad.

Thank you for your concern for my wellbeing and the health of my nails. I am deeply, deeply touched.

Asshat.

March 22, 2009 2:34 AM

Gel-Nails said...

Good information.

I came across many queries in several forums where people have been asking for advice on the best glue that can be used on nails and that is not only strong but also safe on nails. This was the same question I had sometime back when I used to apply nail gel myself. Initially the glue I got would never hold on the way it used to when done in the salon. I then came across the nail glue being sold on gel-nails which lasts very long and is pretty easy to apply. It provides a strong bonding for my nails and also does a great job in repairing the nail tips.

Most important of all is that this is strong glue I was actually looking out for and this is used by nail salons and nail artists for professional applications. It is available at a cheap price at gel-nails and I remember seeing it at a discount of 74% which is great. Maybe this can help if you also face problems relating to poor glue quality as I did earlier.

April 3, 2009 2:57 AM

Katie said...
Again, I would like to thank you for the taking the time to extend your sympathies toward me in a time of grief by making sure I know I can go to your website in order to buy an excellent glue for the gel nails I will almost surely have purchased by now to replace my own human nails, which I broke while struggling to scoop a handful of the cremated remains of my dead father, an activity so shocking, it very nearly caused me to throw up from the stress of it. Your pathos is so entirely evident, I do not know how I could have been of the now clearly erroneous understanding you did not bother to read my original post - or the reply I made to your very generous original comment. Please forgive my dunderheadedness when you have patently proven yourself to be, not a mercenary asshole of the first and highest order, but instead, a kind, giving individual who would never, under any circumstances whatsoever, intrude on someone's grief and horror to sell them nail products. Please rest assured I shall proclaim your heartfelt generosity far and wide on my twitter account, so that all who come here can read your sympathetic comments and patronize your business. I know nothing could have been further from your mind in using my grief as a springboard, but I feel you should be rewarded by everyone on the internet I have in my power to reach finding out what a gigantic piece of work you really are.

No really. I insist.

May 17, 2009 3:08 AM

You have to be kidding me.

2009-03-22T02:40:00.000-07:00

God must really have a soft spot for idiots & jerks. I love how the blogger profile is private. Good thing, too. I'd have to pester the living hell out of her, otherwise.

Fat bottom girls, you make the rockin' world go round.

2009-03-22T02:16:00.000-07:00

I walk into Chevron on the way to Jonny-C's tonight, and the guy behind the counter says, "You've put on a little weight."

Yep. It is not good when the guy at the gas station notices your butt has gotten bigger. I know he wasn't trying to be mean or anything though, so I nodded and said yep. I get my Diet Coke and a meal replacement bar and set 'em on the counter, and he says to me - I kid you not - "This, too, gives fat."

Mm-hm. Yeah.

*sigh*

Aside from that, I had an awesome time playing Rock Band at Jonny-C's. I got my character all set up and rockin' with cute outfits and adorable hair, and the name of my band is Neon Antler, on accounta when I went to Toronto with a bunch of friends the week before Christmas in 1985, we were at a mall, and the displays were these big ceramic reindeer that all had neon antlers, and one of the guys observed that Neon Antler would be a good name for a band, and that if he ever formed one, that's what he was going to call it. I concurred, so tonight when we were trying to think of a band name, I grabbed that out of the distant passages of my memory, dusted it off, and slapped it up on the wall. So that's who we are, a chick band out of Montreal, named Neon Antler. My character is Siouxsie, because that's more hip than Katie-D., and I wasn't feeling especially creative namewise. Now I just need my own Wii. :)

xo,
kd

Wow, coincidence.

2009-03-19T04:04:00.000-07:00

So, I was just watching this clip of The View (a show I never watch), and Alicia Silverstone says she became Vegan because of her dog...which is exactly why I stopped eating pork, which opened the door to the end of eating beef, which I also don't do anymore. No more mammals. I'm an ornipiscitarian. ;)

There's no such thing as fair.

2009-03-19T03:12:00.000-07:00

You know how I know this?

Beautiful, kind Natasha Richardson is dead at the age of 45, leaving a grieving husband, 2 young boys, mother, sister, aunt, etc., while a sac like Ann Coulter is still walking around spewing ignorant bile at will.

Satan definitely wins this round. :(

Dollhouse Again

2009-03-07T21:56:00.000-08:00

FOX still wielding The Big Bat of Obviousness, which is really damaging my enjoyment of what would probably be a very cool show if the dumb@$$es at the network would just shut the hell up, get out of the way, and let Whedon do his thing. I saw just enough Joss in the last episode (Gray Hour) to make the show even more excruciating to watch, since it becomes more and more clear what he must be up against. I really hope he's learned his lesson and will never, ever work with those dinks again.

In which Katie goes home again...and finds home has gone somewhere else

2009-03-02T09:38:00.000-08:00

I had a long weekend, both good and bad. Mostly good. I suppose the bad was really more sad/bittersweet than anything else. Assuming it started on Friday.

I spent the day Thursday herding cattle and burying Daddy's ashes. Neither had much to recommend it. I'd never herded beef cattle before, and I have to say, dairy cows are much easier to deal with and smarter. Though I suppose an argument could be made in favor of the beef cattle as well, since one could conclude that most of the time when beef cattle are being herded somewhere, it's toward certain death and someone's dinner plate, so it actually behooves them not to go along and cooperate. Dairy cows want to be milked, because it relieves them of the pain of a swollen udder, so since generally the only time anyone tries to herd them, it means either food or milking (and usually both), they want to go where you tell them. They will, in fact, line up at the gate and wait for you to open it for them. There's not a lot of work involved in herding dairy cattle most of the time. Beef cattle, otoh, do not care where you want them to go. They get their feed out in the pasture, so they don't find anything of interest up in the holding pen and are, in fact, deeply suspicious of the fact you want them to go there. Especially if they're new to your property and are still trying to suss out how they fit into the whole thing and where the best place might be from which to launch an escape. Cattle are very big on escaping. That's why the expression "the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence" came into being. Because to a cow, truer words were never spoken.

We were severely understaffed, being only me, my stepbrother, a guy who didn't speak English, and a man I knew when I was a kid who is not fully mobile, having lost most of one of his legs several years ago on an oil rig. There was lots of rounding up and re-rounding up and moving quickly and cows charging past and going through the fence and stuff like that. It was also unseasonably warm (like in the 90's). I got sunburned and covered in dirt and grime, to the point of being gritty. I do not like being gritty. I like being hot, sunburned and gritty even less. And there are still 5 cows and 3 calves wandering around in the pasture, since they just refused to cooperate. I'm worried about one of the calves, an adorable little red calf with a red and white speckled face who was only a few days old and whose mother my stepbrother could not identify. So I don't know if she went with him. This is bad for 2 reasons: calves that young need their mothers and the ultra-rich milk they provide which is necessary to a tiny newborn, and mothers need their calves because if they aren't nursed regularly, they develop infections and poisoning and can die. Not to mention the pain they're in from swollen udders. So I desperately hope the mother went to auction along with her baby. Otherwise bad things will happen to both, and I can't stand that. It hurts my heart. I may not be overwhelmingly fond of cows, but they're animals and beings and need to be protected. I don't even want to think about that adorable little baby (whom I had to give water to because it was hot and he was panting badly) growing up to be slaughtered for someone's hamburger. In fact, I think I just this very second gave up beef. For that very reason.

After hours of that and sending the cows off to auction in the afternoon, my stepbrother and I put my dad's ashes in a heavy decorative box, sealed it shut, and took it out into another of the fields to bury under a huge oak tree up on a ridge. The ground was really hard, thanks to the area suffering a very long drought, and we had a hell of a time digging a hole deep enough. I wanted to go 3', but we ran out of light and had to settle for 2, and that required a pick axe and post hole digger, as well as our two shovels. It was hard work, and I was really sore by the time we were done. It's on the highest point on the property, so hopefully if the river floods, it's safe, and Daddy used to like to go there and think and watch the sun set. After we filled it back in, we went and got a bunch of rocks and covered it with a mound of rocks. I'm going to get a stone for it later, when I actually have money. Assuming I ever do, since unemployment in California has topped 10%, and not only do I not have a job, I can't reach unemployment for my extended benefits, either. *sigh*

After that, my stepbrother made me a baloney and cheese sandwich, since I hadn't eaten all day and it was by now past 7, and then we rode around the back pasture and down to the river, where I went down the bank to the place we used to swim when I was a kid and got a handful of sand to take home with me. It's difficult to be in a place at once familiar and so completely strange. The lay of the land was the same, the barn and houses were in the same place, but it's been 30 years, and everything is in such a state of abandonment and disrepair as to be shocking. Everyone who ever leased the place seems to have stolen anything of value and left their junk behind, and neglected care of the buildings and fences. Then too, your memory has gaps, so you remember this or that, but not the next thing, so the place you see in your mind's eye does not at all translate to the place stretched out before you. I don't recommend the experience, frankly. It was a relief to leave it behind. One day, we'll restore it, but for now, it was very sad. You really can't go home again. Or maybe it's just that I've had too many. I don't know.

Friday night, I drove out to my best friend since 10th grade's house, and we hung out and talked the whole weekend and watched cheesy b-movies like The Beastmaster. It was really good to do, but also really sad to leave. We went out to her dad's on Sunday for a few hours. I used to call her parents Mom & Dad, and when Dad answered the door, man, I hugged him really hard and started to cry. He's really reserved, so I think he was a little flummoxed, but he coped. He's not one for crying, but when someone asked if I was all right, he said I just needed to be a kid for a moment, then he patted me and said okay, and I let go. I cried again when it was time to go. Poor Gayle - I wouldn't let her hug me when I saw her on Tuesday night, because I didn't want to cry in front of strangers, and Tuesday was a hard day, and then when I left, I told her no hugs because I didn't want to cry, and then I turned around and hugged Dad and cried anyway. I'm sure she's confused. I'm nothing if not a huge contradiction, sometimes.

Sunday night, I had dinner with my brothers and my sister-in-law and that brother's two kids, and we talked about some of the probate stuff. Then I came home. And now I have to hire the attorney and talk to my friend Dagmar about an assets search on my dad. Ah, probate. Thou art a joy. Or something.

On one hand, I just want to go back to Cali. On the other, I know it's not going to be any easier there. I really wish it could be easier. And I want my life to be different. I'm tired of being unhappy and overweight and unsuccessful and lonely. I want to be the person I thought I'd be when I grew up and live the life I thought I'd have. This isn't it, and life is just too long and miserable to live it otherwise.

I have to go get lunch now.

Later.

It's LeWar! (or, Let's Have Some Silly For A While)

2009-02-24T14:28:00.000-08:00

First there was this.

Then, LeVar Burton responded.

Michael Ian Black at once threw down*, and the LeWar was on.

* (At which point, I have to ask, what kind of culturally dead cretin does NOT know LeVar Burton played Kunta Kinte in Roots, let alone one who makes his living largely by commenting on American mainstream culture? Srsly.)

It's a battle royal between the cool hip of Mr. Geordie LaForge, the Reading Rainbow Man himself, LeVar Burton, and the tragically trendy, culturally shallow (I can only surmise) Michael Ian Black. He with the most followers wins.

So get thee to Twitter, my peeps. Get an account and choose a side. You'll be glad you did. ;)

Peace out,
Katie

Whisper To a Scream

2009-02-23T21:13:00.000-08:00

On the way home from work tonight, I heard a song I haven't heard since junior high. Since I was working on the farm with my dad. Next thing I knew, I was sobbing and dealing with the realization that my dad is dead. He is dead. I will never see, hear, speak to, or hug him again. I have not seen him in almost 6 years. I sat in my car and screamed for an hour, and it's hard not to cry now. But I can't, because I don't want to upset my mother. My heart is raw, and it hurts in a way you can't know unless you've lost a parent or child or maybe sibling. You might think you know, but you don't. I imagine losing a child is worse, because children are not supposed to predecease their parents, and there's just no way you can prepare for that. But you can't really prepare for the loss of a parent either, and I feel like I'm going to explode with the pain of it. I want my daddy. Just one more fucking time, I want my daddy. I want to hug him and be hugged and tell him I love him. I want to know that he is okay, in a good place, and I want to be able to look at him and say I love you, Dad. And I hate God, that it doesn't work that way. I do. I hate him so much, because He could make it happen, but He won't, because that's not how it is, and it's arbitrary and stupid, and I want my dad.

I still have ashes under my fingernails.

2009-02-21T22:19:00.000-08:00

So, it turns out scattering ashes in real life is absolutely nothing like it is in the movies. They do not waft gently on the breeze, nor are they particularly easy to get out of the container. In point of fact, they resemble not so much ashes as grey sand with tiny bits of grey shell mixed in. They're also heavy. I suppose it makes sense that a 250 pound human being compacted down to a 4x6x8" space might be a little heavy, but it's still a shock when someone places that box into your hands and you find out that it's not at all like a box of fireplace ashes and is in fact about 15 pounds worth of stone weight. Seriously, it may as well be a lead brick, for the weight of it. That was my first shock of the day.

The service was nice, if sparsely attended. There were 30-50 people there. The minister had known Daddy for about 35 years, so he spoke well and personally. I said something clumsy and brief, and my Uncle Charlie, my dad's baby brother, told a story or 2. Then we sang Old Rugged Cross (always a safe one), and retired to the fellowship hall for a reception. My stepmother and siblings were there, and that was nice. I saw my friend Tommy Oliver, who I hadn't seen in 30 years, and that was wonderful. It was so great to see him, and it means a lot that he came. I wish he'd stayed longer, but he had to go back to work. I also saw 2 of my old teachers, Mrs. Stuteville, who taught me math in 8th grade, and her BFF Ms. Jarrell, who taught me HomeEc at another school in 9th & 10th, and who was a real lifesaver to me in those years. Both of them are loving, wonderful women I am grateful for knowing, and 2 of my favorite teachers. I wish they'd stayed for the reception, as well. I was looking forward to the chance to visit with them.

After an hour or so, the family left to go back to the farm and scatter Dad's ashes. I asked the minister how to do it, and he said well, most people just used their hands or emptied directly from the container. Emptying that way seemed pretty much like emptying out a container of trash to me, so I chose to use my hands. We got back to the farm, and me, my brothers, their significant others, my uncles, cousins, 1 stepbrother, and Daddy's cousin Joyce went down to the river in the back pasture to scatter, and when we got there, I got made the de facto ash disperser, whether I was up for it or not. I asked Darth Brother did he want to do it, and I guess he saw my face, coz he said well, he'd help if I wanted him to. I said if he wanted to help, I'd appreciate it, so he stepped up, and so did my stepbrother. Yoda Brother and I opened the box, and then my Uncle John said a really nice prayer (he's a minister). Then I reached into the box, which is where I got my second shock of the day: human remains do not break down into ash as you most likely think of it. As I said before, they look like sand and tiny bits of shell, and their consistency is that of the part of an ocean beach where the waves are washing in - very dense, very compact. Except that they are totally dry. But the top layer looks like silt, so you think it's going to be soft, and then when you try to reach into it, you find you have to really dig - I actually broke a freaking nail doing it. Seriously, it was shocking.

But I grabbed a handful, and then so did my stepbrother, and then my brother, and they both got the same shocked looks on their faces as I know I must have, and my stepbrother even said "oh, wow," in a strangled tone, and then quickly turned away and let his go, and then he broke down and had to walk a bit away to compose himself. My brother said something under his breath when he reached in, and he let his go too, and then everyone just looked at me, and no one would take any. So I took a few more handfuls, but you seriously can not grasp how many ashes are in a box like that until you're in that situation - I mean it, it's like a neverending supply. I finally had to give up and tilt the box so that I was holding the top of the bag in one hand and supporting the box in the other, and tried to gently sift the ash from the box, but no matter how well you do that or how the wind is blowing - and we had a good stiff breeze - the bits of bone still fall to the ground, which is just unsettling in the extreme. I mean unsettling. There's your father, on the ground. It just isn't right. So I just kept walking and feeling like I was doing it completely wrong and stupid, and everyone but Darth Brother and Stepbrother stayed back where we started, and after I'd gone about 50', I turned and asked my brother what I should do next, and he didn't know either. Then Stepbrother said that we were standing just above the point in the river that my dad liked to swim in, so I asked if we should go down the bank and finish there, and they didn't know what else to do, so the 3 of us did that, and they stood at the top of the bank while I scattered ashes on the sand there and then walked to the river's edge and let the wind carry the rest downwind, which it did pretty well, and it was a really pretty spot, with an old fallen and hollowed out tree and everything. I looked down to where all the bits of bone had fallen into the river and sunk to the rocks along the bank, where they were pretty bright against the green algae, and I told myself well, it was okay they were in the river, because it was sort of like they were gold, and while that was bothersome, it was better than on the ground. Then I realized I only had 1/3 of the box left, and I want to bury some under a tree on the property and put a marker there, so the 3 of us sealed the ashes back up and then climbed back up to where everyone else was and had to be careful not to step where we'd scattered ashes - you could clearly see the heavier grains and the bone. Let me tell you, having to warn your brother not to step on you dad is not for the faint of heart; it was yet another surreal moment in the day. When we rejoined everyone, we stood telling family stories a while and took some group shots, and then broke it up to all head our separate ways. There's more to it, but I'm going to skip it, as it was all estate-related about the need to buy more cottonseed for the cows ASAP and get them to market, etc. Basically we all broke apart and headed home. I stopped a few times to take pictures from the roadside, which helped, but jeebus, what a freaking bad day.

And I still have Daddy's ashes under my nails. I had to dig so hard into them that they're way under the nailbed, and I just can't get them out.

My Life is Like Star Wars...Sort Of

2009-02-19T21:40:00.000-08:00

I have two brothers. One is cool, generally calm, generous, caring, and values family beaucoup. The other is snide, selfish, sarcastic, and doesn't really care all that much for any of us. I love the first brother. The second one? Not so much. I mean, I love him, coz he's my brother. But dude: he is Darth Brother to my other brother's Yoda. My mother is a kinder, gentler version of Grand Moff Tarkin. Or maybe the Emperor. She adores Darth Brother beyond all else. And me?

I'm Princess Leia in the bad dress and ridiculous hair, hanging out in the detention center on the Death Star, and today, my life was a garbage chute of epic proportions.

Where the hell is Luke Skywalker when you need him?

Home, Sweet...Wait

2009-02-18T22:28:00.000-08:00

I'm at my mom's at last, and will be for the next few days, at least. Here, I get my own room and an actual bed - score. I spent last night on baby brother's sofa, and it was not what I would call conducive to sleep. Neither was the hissy fit pitched at 7am this morning (5am California Time) by his fiancee's 3-year-old daughter, who is a pampered, spoiled little princess. Oy. She can be charming when she wants to be, which is when she's getting her way or about to connive her way into it. The second one of them attempts to restrain her wishes, that changes, and faster than we like to think the weather does here in Texas, which let me tell you, is pretty damned fast. I once went into class on a bright, shiny, sunny and fair spring morning for which I had dressed in a sleeveless shirt and my hair in braids, and when I got out 45 minutes later, the temperature had dropped a full 50 degrees (no, I'm not kidding), and it was hailing. HAILING. As in, hard little rocks pelting from the sky with considerable force.

But I digress. That was a pretty unbearable situation, so I'm happy as heck to be here at Mom's, even if it means getting up at the buttcrack of dawn and accompanying her to her office for the day. A bed, people. A real, sheets, blankets and pillows bed.

Awesome.

Even if it does come with a litany of all the things that are wrong with me as a human being.

Did I mention how much fun Chez Doyle is, even without the paternal unit? Again, oy.

Okay, must go try on funeral wear now. My mother never gets rid of anything, so God bless her little heart, even though she probably won't be able to fit into a size 10 again before her 85th birthday, she has Ann Taylor in that size hanging in the closet. In black, grey and navy. Oo-rah.

Peace out,
Katie

Dollhouse - FOX Strikes Again

2009-02-18T14:15:00.000-08:00

Dear FOX execs:

Put down the Sharpie and step away from the script, NOW. You are screwing with my Whedon, and I do NOT appreciate.

*sigh*

I finally got to see the Dollhouse premier on Hulu.com, and I don't think it's unfair or overreaching to call it a travesty. It misfired on all 8 cylinders, with wooden acting, bad dialogue, confusing subplots, gimmicky bits, and seeming red herrings galore. There was barely any Whedon present in a show Joss both wrote and directed, which I have to assume is because FOX execs could not just sit back and trust the Whedon, so they supplied the first cut of the pilot with copious and plentiful notes...probably a 4" D-ring binder's worth, if the end result is anything to go by. Every so often, I saw Joss' touch, but for the most part, it seemed a jumbled mishmash of jump cuts, flash, and painful, Intro to Acting acting and trite, melodramatically enigmatic dialogue. It's hard for me to believe the opening scene was pure Whedon, since Joss has the tightest grip on dialogue I've seen come out of tv-land, and that scene was excruciating in it's lack of connection, either character to character or characters to viewer. It angled for mysterious and hit "wow, that's really bad," instead. :(

Understand, I love Joss. I fell in love with BTVS roughly 60 seconds into the pilot. Angel's pilot was a tad raw, but it did not suck and still had enough Joss in it to keep me coming back every week until it found its stride and surpassed Buffy. I hated the Firefly pilot, but it turns out that was FOX's fault, and when I saw the real pilot, Serenity (parts 1&2), I fell in love with Firefly, as well. Dr. Horrible rocked it from the get-go. Which is why the premiere of Dollhouse was more than a little crushing. I'll keep watching, because I have faith in Joss, and I saw enough of him in it to know that if FOX allows him to do his thing, I'll love Dollhouse too. But it has to get better (a LOT better), or I don't know how long I'll last. And that means FOX needs to back the hell off and let Joss do what Joss does.

Here are my problems with the pilot:
Olivia Williams is just plain bad. You can drive whole fleets of trucks through her pauses, and there's nothing going on behind her eyes. I don't buy her for a second as the Badass Leader of Science's Answer to Wolfram & Hart. She had no connection whatsoever to her own character, let alone her character connecting to anyone else. When I saw the opening scene played as a clip on Craig Ferguson, I thought it must look so horrible because it was taken out of context, but no, that scene was dreadful, and mostly because Williams was so awful, though the dialogue wasn't good either.

Speaking of dialogue, it had very little of Whedon's touch to it. There were moments that screamed Joss, but so much of it was bland and rushed, I wondered how much was edited by FOX and whether or not the pilot started out as something longer that got whittled down. I also felt rather bludgeoned with the obvious - how many times do they think I need to be told Echo can't remember x-event? I get it - she has her memory tinkered with. I don't need to hear 5 times in the space of as many minutes that she can't remember what happened to her leg. I really got the feeling FOX kept sending the note to Joss that this or that wasn't clear and could he please emblazon it on a baseball bat and beat the audience to death with it. I have no other explanation for the obviousness of the entire first act (and a few other things throughout the episode).

I like Eliza Dushku, but that was not her best work. She doesn't play Stepford well at all, and she really needs to for the pilot, at least, to have worked. If she's going to keep having "I don't remember" moments, then the Stepford needs to be a LOT better.

The whole subplot with the FBI guy is heavy-handed. It really needs to be more subtle. More like Wolfram & Hart was handled on Angel. As it is now, I could not possibly care less about the idiotic FBI guy. I also don't care for the actor, and I definitely do NOT think he's hot, like everyone else in the known world seems to believe he is. Ew.

None of the characters mesh at all except for Echo and her handler. They do not connect. Whedon takes his time building character connections, and I get that, but still. All his other shows, the characters had reasons for sticking to each other when they collided. Dollhouse is missing that. Except for Echo & her handler, no one sticks. They all just bounce off of each other and continue on. It's aggravating. Whedon gets ensembles like nobody else, and this show does not feel like an ensemble. It's just a bunch of actors thrust together. I wouldn't be surprised to find out they all hate each other. It's disappointing.

I do not dig flashbacks in general. They're trite and tend to be confusing. I understand why that convention was used in the pilot, but I really hope it's not going to be a common occurrence. I don't give a damn what Mr. FBI was doing in his flashbacks, especially. So he beat somebody up. You told me that in the dialogue. I could not be less interested in seeing it.

The Whedon Audience Pact - wherein Joss brings the intelligent and trusts us to keep up - was violated, big time. I blame this entirely on FOX execs who clearly have the brain power of ducks and figure if they can't understand it, the audience won't be able to either. News flash: I am smarter than the average FOX exec. So is most of America. Or at least the demographic this show is aimed at. The idiots watching Dancing with the American Idol Survivor wouldn't get it, but they aren't watching either. Nor are they likely to, no matter how dumbed down it is. SciFi is not their cup of tea.

I disliked more, but that's all I can think of right offhand. And I blame it entirely on the idiots at FOX, since I've gotten pretty good at spotting unfettered Whedon, and that was not it. But I actually liked stuff too. To whit:

Dushku and Amy Acker are back in the Whedonverse, which is full of Big Bad, and that tends to serve up a giant plate of fun.

There were Joss moments, and they ruled. Echo's "I think I'm too old for you," was fantastic - well-written and perfectly delivered. And the bit in the lab where Lab Geek says the blue parts of Echo's brain scan show fear. Handler: "They're all blue." Geek: "You see where I'm going with this." Excellent. I can also see there are arc subplots in place and ready to play out in true Whedon fashion.

I like the concept of a girl wiped clean every day and where that might go when all hell breaks loose.

I like most of the casting, and Whedon has set up the conflict with Echo's character well: we know she didn't volunteer willingly for the program and that something is going to go awry with her programming. I'm betting that's going to be worth watching. I just hope everything else is too.

When It Rains...

2009-02-16T23:26:00.001-08:00

I woke up this morning after 3 hours of sleep to rain pouring into the house. Literally. Right over an electrical connection and next to the big, nearly-flat-screen tv. I moved the electronic equipment I could and was lucky enough not to get electrocuted, since as I said, I'd had 3 hours of sleep and was not exactly alert or thinking clearly. Luckily, the equipment in question was wet from splatter (like, really wet), but not sitting in water, and not apparently wet enough to shock me, which is happy. Then I grabbed a towel and stuffed it as best I could into the leak area, and went to wake up TB.

The second I opened the door, I could hear and smell water. I stepped out of the hallway and into the kitchen and discovered I was standing in a huge pool of water and that a huge section of roof was leaking. I threw a towel into the pool and shoved a bin under the leak to catch most of the waterfall and then woke TB up, who had to figure out where the water was getting in on the outside and then how to stop it coming in on the inside. (I mopped it up while he was doing that.) He never did find either place, but he did manage to stop the ceiling leak, and there are towels stuck in the wall leak, and a bucket underneath it, and please God, don't let the rain frigging torrentially downpour again tonight, because we won't be able to stop it.

I have to leave tomorrow for Texas, and I do not want to go. I do not want to go to my father's funeral. I do not want to scatter his ashes. I do not want to deal with the memories I will have to face. I do not want to deal with the family bs I will have to contend with, not the least of which is my brother Tom irately and asshattedly refusing to let my stepmother (ex-stepmother) attend the service. I have to buy clothing for the funeral, because at 160 pounds, NONE of my funeral-appropriate clothing fits any longer. I washed my jeans and because the air is 100% water right now, they refuse to dry. I can't throw them in the drier, or they won't fit. The fucking airlines will probably lose at least one of my bags, anyway, since almost every time I check a bag, it goes missing or someone steals something out of it. I do not want to fly. I do not want to stay with my brother or my mother. I do not want to be stuck without a car for 2 entire weeks (plus 2 days).

I have about $250 left in my checking account, and after 3 weeks have still not been able to talk to a fucking human being at EDD to ask the ONE question I need to ask in order to file for an extension. One fucking question. That's it. What is my base period. That's it. What is my base period? Is it the original base period I filed with, or does it change to the base period 18 months from NOW? I have bills I need to pay, and I can't because I don't have enough money, and I don't know when I'll have any money, because fucking EDD won't answer the motherfucking phone. Great time for TB to have to shell out $350 for a plane ticket, plus more money to feed me while I'm in Texas, as well as to buy funeral-appropriate clothing. His salary has been drastically slashed, and he has no work anyway, so times aren't any better for him, what with having a mortgage to pay.

Bygones to those of you among the non-cussing. I realize I shouldn't say the mf word, but really, I can't be any more stressed out than I am right now, so please just deal.

The frigging DVR is possessed. It recorded at irregular times all week, so I missed the last 5 minutes of every single program it recorded. It was set to tape on the hour for everything, but for some fucked up reason, it started and ended 6 minutes before the hour for everything it taped. Until tonight, that is, when it just decided not to tape anything. Even if I had the show on and pushed record, it would say it was recording, but nothing happened. It also said it taped stuff that had come on before I noticed it wasn't taping, but those shows it said it taped are not in the recordings list and can't be viewed if it did. Then it went completely haywire and while I was watching the last show of the night, from 10-11, it kept turning itself off or searching for signal or downloading the program guide, over and over again. I saw nothing of that show, either. I don't know about you people, but when I'm living on the frigging edge, I need my damn television. TV keeps me sane. TV is escape. I love television. When I was a kid, the only time my parents shut the hell up and quit screaming at each other or us or hitting anyone was at the movies or during a tv show they liked. Nobody hit or yelled at anybody during the Waltons or Bonanza or Happy Days, damn it. TV is safety and happiness and all things good and wonderful in the entire world. I frigging love tv, and I need it to function properly. More than anything in the world, I need my frigging television. So for it to be major malfunction right now, of all fucking times in my life, is NOT okay. I'm just saying.

Dear California Politicians:
PASS THE FUCKING BUDGET SO I CAN HAVE MY UNEMPLOYMENT BENEFITS AND SO CAN CALLI'S HUBBY.

My benefits were supposed to automatically roll into an extension. They did not.

I need to pack.

I also need to empty all my disks for my camera, forward some of my mail so I have access to certain information while I'm gone, and get my electronic boarding pass. I'd really like it if my frigging jeans would dry.

I will probably forget something I really need to have, like the right shoes or Pete.

It just started raining again, and not lightly, either. Any bets on how long before rain starts pouring out of the wall directly in front of me?

:(
kd

Unbefrigginglievable.

2009-02-09T19:37:00.000-08:00

I will bet anything on the planet that if she were white, this would be all over the national media. I hope the family is able to sue the livin' crap out of the police department and that kid gets the college fund to end all college funds out of it. Assholes.

My dad died this morning.

2009-02-09T15:08:00.001-08:00

It was unexpected and most likely a heart attack. He was 76.

No, I'm not handling it well.

I don't know when the funeral is. Will be having a conference call with my brothers sometime probably today to talk about it. I think we should do a cremation, but the one brother I've been able to talk to doesn't want to.

I can't afford $1000 to fly back for a funeral. A cremation would allow me to get a decent airfare. Because of how the blood pooled, the casket can not be open. I haven't seen my dad in 5.5 years, and I can't see him now.

I'm thankful I talked to him on the phone 2 weeks ago and that it was the best conversation I've ever had with him. I was going to call him this weekend, but I wasn't able to get the time. That sucks.

later.

Just because you can vent doesn't mean you should.

2009-02-09T01:15:00.000-08:00

Sorry for that last entry. The little voice in my head said it wasn't appropriate to post, but I didn't listen. I have since changed it to draft so it won't show. Just because I need to vent doesn't mean you guys need to deal with my angst. Sorry.

Boy, has it been angsty here the last several months. *sigh*

So, I will be moving my computer out here to the garage. But I have to do my taxes first. Assuming I can hold out that long. The laptop has more problems than I knew. I cleared a gig off of it last night and then tried to run defrag, but it will only clear about 80% and then tells me there's an error with the drive and that I need to run scandisk. After 3 hours of unsuccessful attempts at that, I finally managed to get it done, but then when I went back to defrag, I got the same error message, and I can't get scandisk to run succesfully again - not that I should need to; there are no errors with the drive. Scandisk keeps telling me Windows is writing to the drive, so the process continually starts over. Defrag tells me there are errors and that the drive is being written to, and in safe mode, I keep getting the Screaming Blue Screen of Death. It's all I can do not to take a hammer to the keyboard, at this point. I ran Norton, but it finds nothing. Still, something is going on. Performance just keeps getting worse. All of which is a longwinded way of saying I'm jonesin' for the web and will probably crack really soon. I need email, people!!!

I took the pups on a walk during a break in the rain today, and they were so well-behaved, it was awesome. High on the success of that, I took them to Petco. You can imagine how well that went. They tag-teamed me, people. It was not pretty. I can't take them both in there anymore. It's just too frustrating, and I sound like the worst pet owner in the entire world to all the other people in there with dogs who do not require constant behavior checks. You know: dogs that do not bark at the other pets, sit the first time when told, and do not attack the cookie bar with wild abandon while their owners are trying to pay for purchases.

And what is up with that, anyway??? They're renovating the store near my house, and someone had the brilliant idea to put the cookie bar right next to the first cash register - the one that's usually the only one open when I'm in there. There are about 4' between the register and the cookies, and Napoleon - who is built like a tank but moves with the lightning speed of a cobra - views the cookie bar as his own personal smorgasbord. My life was a lot easier back in the halcyon days of intelligent cookie bar placement. Alas.

I need to get my teeth deep-cleaned. This fills me with serious anxiety because a) I really, really hate the dentist, and this is a visit I already know will end in pain, and lots of it; b) even with dental insurance it's at least a $300 procedure, and I have no money to pay for it, what with having no job and no unemployment benefit any longer; and c) the gingivitis thing is getting pretty bad and gross, and I know that the longer this goes on, the more damage I am doing to the roots of my teeth. Oy. Now I'm having an anxiety attack. Let's change the subject.

Napoleon looks so cute when he sleeps. Even though he's almost 8 months old, he still has a puppyish look about him. Razzle didn't look like a puppy at 8 months. He looked like a young dog, but a dog. Napoleon still looks puppyish, and when he sleeps, it's magnified by about 100. He's so aggro and hyper during the day, that catching him all quiet and vulnerable just melts me into a big gooey puddle of puppy love. I love both of them, but I admit, I feel more tender toward Napoleon. I'm sure it's the same dysfunctional part that falls for the worst guy in the world for me, thinking he's just tragically misunderstood.

Good lord. Law & Order is on, and once again, I am struck by how often the show hires the worst actors in the entire world to play the non-recurring roles. I don't watch the show generally, but I've had it on late nigths when I'm on the web or reading, just for background noise, don't ask me why. I don't watch it because I find the writing generally ridiculously melodramatic and sloppy, and because bad acting makes me want to hurt people. Seriously, I can't have it. It makes me absolutely insane, and there's no excuse for it. There are thousands of good actors auditioning in Hollywood (and thousands more who are merely serviceable) every single day who are passed over for no-talent hacks merely because someone found the hacks more attractive than the actual actors. I so very much wish we lived in a meritocracy. :( What I *do* like is the old Twilight Zone, and that comes on from 2-3am, so as soon as L&O is over, I'll be watching that, and then going to bed. :)

I'm going to make a run at my taxes this week. Cross your fingers and knock wood, please. I will need it. I'm also applying for an extension on unemployment. I really pray I get it and that it's the same amount it was, so that I can afford a visit to the dentist. (I have no credit anymore, so I don't qualify for a payment plan. Who'd a thought not owing money would make it harder to borrow? Jeebus.)

I had a paragraph here about how much I want to slap people like Mitch McConnell and his cronies until they cry, but I decided to make it go away. Suffice to say I can't believe the Republican party continues to flog the same dead horse they've been flogging for years - the same one that got us where we are now and has us sliding rapidly downhill. Mudslides are pretty destructive, people, and we're riding a helluva big one right now. :( Barney Frank was freaking awesome on Meet the Press today. I love Barney Frank. He might get a little out there now and again, but I have to love a guy who is not afraid to call bullshit, especially in Washington. And Barney Frank is not afraid to call it.

Okay, gotta go scrub my teeth for 10 minutes and floss, all to no avail. :( I welcome all ideas on how to handle that whole thing financially. :(

peace out,
katie

WTF, BTW

2009-02-07T16:54:00.000-08:00

What is UP with all these damn people looking to hire via the classifieds? The ones who want you to email your resume into them, but they never once respond to let you know they got it or they're considering or the position has been filled? Seriously, is it so damned hard to set an auto-responder to say "We got your application and will get back to you whenever," or "Sorry dude, the position has been filled"?

Seriously. This is a crap economy. At least have the decency to acknowledge you received my resume.

DUDE.

Bored, Now.

2009-02-07T14:40:00.000-08:00

Stranded in the garage with the pups since it's been raining. This is frustrating on a number of levels, not least because I can't do anything it occurs to me I should do. I had to go get the paperweight I call a laptop (circa 1998) so that I could - kinda - surf the web. I can't even tweet effectively, because the laptop can't really handle the semi-live stream that is Twitter. It's not handling Blogger all that excellently well, either, but I think it will actually publish when I tell it to. I guess we'll find out.

I should explain about the garage, I guess, so you don't think I'm sitting in my car or have perched my laptop precariously atop a pile of tools. A) It always had carpeting, for some reason. B) TB turned the garage into a music studio several years ago. It's not fully finished out - there's only drywall on 3 sides (the 4th is concrete block) and the carpeting has been removed in places - and the walls are all lined with work tables and shelving units, but it's a very large garage, and the center is entirely open...and covered with a large rug. Since the dogs and cat have a tenuous relationship at best, since we got her back, Meows has the run of the house, and the pups have been banished to the garage...along with me, now, since TB seems to be stunningly unable to function around them. So he cleared out the bedroom and turned it into his office. He disappears in there with the door closed all day, and I am stuck out here. It sucks. Ass, to be precise.

Did I mention there are no windows? Where the garage door would be has been walled over with a door to the outside and no windows. It's a cave. TB wants to cut a window through the wall from the bedroom/office into the garage, which idea I think is remarkably bad, and I dread it. That's where the washer/drier sit, and the shelves which hold all the laundry stuff and have some things stored on them, all of which he has already removed 2x (losing every single one of my lingerie bags, in the process - bags he swears he has never seen, despite having had to hold all 7 of them in his hand at some point in the moving process). Plus, he has a remarkable propensity for not finishing stuff he starts (as do I), so I know that not only will there be sawdust, drywall, and other crap all over everything in the garage (which now includes the bed and all my bedroom furnishings) for *weeks*, but a huge, gaping hole in the wall for god knows how long, but certainly for at least a week or two. In the process, I suspect that the single outlet in the entire garage which is wired for the washer and drier will also cease to function, and it will be a month before it's repaired. I know that because the other outlet for those appliances - the one the cord to the washer would actually reach - quit working 10 months ago, and it has never been repaired. We have to use a 100' outdoor heavy duty extension cord to reach the other one - the same frigging cord he uses for everything else in the garage, so every single freaking time I want to wash anything, I have to track down the frigging cord, unplug it, move it back to the damned washer, and plug it all back in again. It's gotten to the point where I will wear every last stitch of clothing that I have, including stuff that doesn't really fit anymore or that I hate, just to put off the arduous task of laundry as long as possible.

But I digress. The bottom line is that I'm bored and frustrated. I need to get stuff done, and I'm not only stuck dogsitting, but I'm stuck doing it in one single room of the entire house. I'm going to have to bring my computer out here just to get work done, and I so don't want to. I already sleep out here. If I bring my computer out here, this frigging room will become my whole life. :( Not to mention, nothing I own will be safe from Napoleon's neverending quest for things to destroy.

I swear to you people, you never saw a more destructive dog. Oh sure, you think you have, but so trust me, you have not. I thought I knew what destructive was. I once owned a german shepherd who not only ate more than his weight in my leather shoes, he also chewed to pieces parts of the house, ate one of Pete's ears and tore into the other, destroyed the trashcan and ate the broken glass that was inside it, went through more rolls of paper products than I can count, and ate various and sundry items anyone left lying on the floor - items I don't remember anymore, other than the fact that I had to give a lot of money to roommates for various objects they had once owned prior to Atilla's presence in the room.

Napoleon makes him look like a rank amateur. He has already gotten to numerous objects we would rather he not destroy but can do without, TB's Docs, TB's rubber boots, 4 couch cushions, 2 doggy beds (through both the covers and the inner layers, and promptly set about pulling out and eating the stuffing), at least 3 heavy duty dog bed covers (in addition to the 2 above), my grandfather's antique armchair, various cords for electronic equipment, a flashlight, numerous writing implements (including a Sharpie), several of my shirts, several "indestructible" dog toys (not even counting all the "tough" toys he ripped to pieces), several cardboard boxes, the Victorian pool table and its slate, the dining chairs, the doorjam into the house, 2 puppy gates, a large kangaroo paw plant, 2 large cistus shrubs, an upright rosemary shrub, AND the succulents planted around it, 2 ficus trees, a very large jasmine shrub, the inside of 2 of my car doors, my gearshift, several towels, a blanket, the gate at the top of the driveway, and 3 cell phones, all 3 of which were thankfully in leather holsters which took the brunt of the punishment and saved the phones. (I am now a staunch believer in the use of cell phone holsters.) That's not all, it's just what I can think off right offhand. And to be fair some of it is only badly damaged. Most of it had to be thrown away, however. I'm telling you: destructive. Just the dog to leave all my computer cords and documents lying around. :(

I'm watching the DaVinci Code. That should tell you how bored I am. Actually, I've seen the last 30 min. of it before, and it's a lot better than the book. Everyone complained that there was too much talking in the film, which I always thought was ridiculous - the book is nothing *but* talking. Why would they think the movie was going to be any different? I like watching movies set in Paris, though. It takes me back. It also makes me feel a little "homesick," but it's cool seeing places I've been and know pretty well. :)

I am eaten more junk food today than you would think possible. And all of it in one hour. Blach. I feel kinda like hurling.

*sigh* While I was writing this, another dog toy has been destroyed. Seriously, I don't think there's a toy on the planet worth my money, since they're all expensive and easily destroyed.

I didn't get to go to Saint-Sulpice when I was in Paris. I wonder if the Rose Line really does pass through it with markers and everything? I didn't go to the Louvre, either. I wonder if that will be my thing: I will visit Paris dozens of times but somehow never make it to the Louvre (or up the Eiffel Tower).

Napoleon is bossing me to let him outside. I love when he does that. He doesn't growl, whine, or bark. He makes a wookie sound. It's hilarious. I have to take him out. And then go get something hot to eat, since all I've had is triple cream cheese and crostini and a bunch of cookies. Not exactly a nutritious breakfast. I need to get back to my Paris habit of yogurt and fruit puree blended together, with two pieces of whole wheat toast. That was yummy. :)

ttyl, peeps.

xo,
kd

Listening To: Marian Call

2009-02-02T02:12:00.000-08:00

I love, love, love this album. :) I've been addicted to it ever since I first got it, so I'm actually going to do something I have never before done in my life, and blog "review" an album. And when I say "review," I mean, tell you everything I like about it. I am not a music critic. I just know what I like. :) Call has a good voice and harmonizes beautifully and interestingly. Her lyrics are smart and thoughtful, and since I'm a big lyrics girl, that's important. I can't stand a song with bad lyrics, no matter how catchy the tune is. Bad lyrics will just crush a song for me. Some of Call's songs grew on me after I listened to the lyrics. I started out liking about half the tracks, which is a higher percentage rate of like than I usually get out of an album on first listen (and sometimes any number of subsequent ones). All the others grew on me by 3rd listen, thanks to Call's lyrics. Now I like nearly the entire album, and the songs I don't necessarily *like* I still listen to because the lyrics are solid.

Track 1 - I'll Still Be a Geek After Nobody Thinks it's Chic (the Nerd Anthem)
Snappy in the same way the cantina song from Star Wars is. Infectiously geeky and adorable, with lyrics like, "My superpower's draining fun from parties," and references to pop culture, historical nerds, and numerous geek stereotypes - both accurate and not.

Track 2 - Good Old Girl
Possibly my favorite song on the album, Good Old Girl is a smokey little number about both ships and heroines. It's a little downbeat but hopeful, with great harmonies. I sort of marvel that she can write a song about both vessels and women and have the lyrics equally applicable to both. Excellent use of metaphor, with lyrics like, "Her structure's sound, her clock is wound/Through mistreatment and neglect, she'll give whatever she's got left/And she's run aground; she's run aground/But on the weakest breath of wind, she'll up and navigate the din of love and lies..." and "It's far too much to take, but my girl don't know how to break, so she'll make, she'll make a way/She's a good old girl, she'll fly true." It does a syncopated bridge thing a little over halfway through that's pretty neat too. I just really like the song, and since I've been having a tough time the last several years, it really resonates with me.

Good Old Girl - Marian Call

Track 3 - Don't Try
I will admit I do not care for the intro, but the song is a love song, and a very pretty one. It starts slowly and sadly but blossoms into a lovely and thoughtful song about why and how we fall in love, perhaps because of a person's imperfections, rather than in spite of them. "You won me when you stumbled as you got up to dance/ when you tried to fly, and instead you took that fall/Oh, I want to love a human, afterall/You had me when you drew the curtain back and let me see/There was no one else behind that veil but you."

Dont Try - Marian Call

Track 4 - Dark Dark Eyes
The only song on the entire album I do not particularly care for, and yet I can't bring myself to say I don't like it. It's an old-fashioned sounding waltz, vaguely reminiscent of mountain music.

Track 5 - Vera Flew the Coop
It's like a steel guitar road song with a Thelma & Louise style heroine who, not surprisingly, meets with a bad end. I didn't like it that much at first, but it rapidly grew on me. I especially like the crooning lie-lie-lie's between verses.

Track 6 - It's Good to Have Jayne on Your Side
The only track on the album Call did not write. She fudged a couple of words. It was originally a song called "Shaner," by Justin Boot. It's ridiculous fun when you know she means it as a tribute to everyone's favorite antihero, Jayne Cobb. :) It's also catchy. I find myself singing it at odd moments nearly every day.

Track 7 - In the Black
Every time this song starts, I think I don't like it and am going to hit the skip button. Since I'm lazy, I don't, and then I'm glad I didn't. It's sort of about struggling and falling behind. It's kind of blues, kind of western. It's the kind of song you'd want to hear sitting around a fire in the wilderness when that guy who always has his guitar with him starts strumming stuff and singing half to himself, half to the rest of you. I can't really explain it any better than that.

Track 8 - Got to Fly
Funky, kicky little number about escapism and finding that world we all thought we were growing up in, before we found out reality was not half as cool as we'd been led to believe. Quick, witty lyrics like, "Thank you for calling, I'll get back to you soon/If you should get a message from the dark side of the moon/You'll know that that's me/Baby, you'll know I'm there/The reception's lousy baby, but the view's beyond compare/So if you wanna call shotgun on my rocket, well you oughtta, baby/Let's let's, baby, let's let's let's fly."

Got to Fly - Marian Call

Track 9 - It was Good for You Too
As I understand it, Call actually wrote this for a contest called Sing a Song of Saffron, based on the character Joss Whedon wrote for Firefly. She won the contest, and if I have my facts straight, it motivated her recording career, an incident for which I will be eternally happy. The track is a smoky jazz croon I can easily imagine Call singing dressed in a long, slinky black sheath, standing behind a blocky, old fashioned microphone, bathed in a white spotlight.

I really think you should hustle over to imeem and stream yourself these and more of Call's tracks, and then go buy the album. I can't wait until I start work again and can buy her first album, Vanilla. Marian Call rules. :)

I'm seriously considering writing a cookbook.

2009-02-01T23:30:00.000-08:00

I need to get all my recipes together, write down the ones that aren't written down, and see what I've got. Dinner tonight was awesome, if I do say so myself. I finally - FINALLY - perfected my chicken, mushroom, and sundried tomatoes pasta. Seriously, I surprised myself. So yum. :)

I had a super lazy day today. Which is good I guess, coz tomorrow will really suck. I have a lot to do just to file for extension of my unemployment benefits. God, this economy sucks it. Bush sucked worse than Hoover. Even the lady at EDD was all, yeah, it's bad; Bush's policies really screwed the country economically. Awesome.

Operation Guitar Hero is underway. I will find some way to obtain that videogame, if it's the last thing I ever do.

Man, I'm being pulled in a million different directions, right now. I need to: find a job, build Pete's website, build my new small business website (rebranding Dragonfly to allow a wider variety of stuff, not just jewelry), build the photography website Calli and I are going to sell prints and cards of our work from, build the landscape design site I have in mind selling pre-made plans and designs, design more plans/designs, write Pete's book, write Napoleon's book, write my book, figure out how to build another website I have in mind that will hopefully make money and require hiring other artists, and pack up all the stuff I own that I'm not using and put it into storage.

Whew. That's a lot. In addition, I should also do some work on my Squidoo lenses, which have fallen into sad disrepair and neglect.

No wonder I'm tired all the time.

Today, I recommitted to my Photo of the Day project. Here's one of the photos I took:

Peace out,
Katie

With a Rebel Yell...

2009-02-01T03:53:00.000-08:00

I finally got to play Guitar Hero at Jonny-C's tonight, and IT'S FRIGGING AWESOME!!!

Dude! I NEED a Wii and Guitar Hero, damn it! It is so patently unfair that I do not have one. I can not believe that a) I went so long without ever participating in the wonder and marvel that is this videogame, and b) I had to leave it behind and come home to my house, a place without whammy bars and ripping song tracks. Oh, sure, there are real guitars in this house. A garage full. But I do not play those. I play a synth axe. A plastic marvel of innovation and creative genius, nirvana in lightweight molded polymer. I want to marry the guy who came up with Guitar Hero so that we can play it all the time and have little Guitar Hero babies, a veritable band of axe-slinging, bass-chewing, drum-pounding little geniuses in clunky black boots and artfully ripped jeans. I want to get so good at Guitar Hero that men weep for their failure at ever coming close to what I can achieve with 5 push buttons and a whammy bar o' death. And I want to play Eye of the Tiger without a single mistake. In my sleep. *sigh*

Sigh

2009-01-31T04:56:00.001-08:00

Perfection.

Im Yours - Marian Call

Ahem.

2009-01-26T20:28:00.000-08:00

I applied for a freelance writing position requiring character descriptions for a website that sells clothing and stuff for the cute-but-kinda-morbid set. In addition to the description, each character is accompanied by a rhyming poem, and the poem is what you had to send with your resume. The character they wanted a sample for is a seal. I thought of 2 other angles (greedy fish eater, practical jokester), but this is what I settled on:

Sassy the Seal did not care for rules;
She thought the word “no” was for suckers and fools.
Her parents were dumb and her teachers were lame,
Crossing the line was the name of her game.
One day as she swam near the “No Swimming” sign,
Sassy decided she’d swim right on by;
It was just one more rule for which she had scorn,
And Sassy’d had sass since the day she was born.
She never did see the sharks swimming near –
The reason the sign was placed there and not here –
And alas for poor Sassy, the moral is so:
Sometimes it’s wise to listen to “no.”

I'm bummed actually, that I could not work into that the following couplet, which I really love:

For a seal is a seal, and a shark is a shark,
And one has more teeth than the other has bark.

Aside from that, I got nothin'. I feel really under the weather and crummy. Also, I've done something whack to my elbow, and it HURTS in a major, major way and is just getting worse. I went to apply for a waiting job today (don't get me started on how much I don't want to do that), and when I came back to my car after the 30 whole seconds it took to walk up, hand the guy my resume, and walk back, my lights were on, and I discovered I'd locked my keys in the car. 90 minutes later, the tow truck guy arrived, popped the lock, and gave me a jump. An hour later, I went to pick up dinner, and they were out of what I'd ordered, which is the only thing I like there.

Yep. It's Monday.

The old blog is unlocked again

2009-01-15T00:47:00.000-08:00

I unlocked katiedoyle.diaryland.com for anyone who wants to look at it again. I figure the person I locked it away from probably forgot about it by now. That was over 6 months ago.

Night, all.

Dude. Or as Richard Simpson used to say: DOODah.

2009-01-15T00:13:00.000-08:00

So I emailed one of the show's producers, and she said the decisions was made to credit the people who worked on the stories for each specific episode, rather than a blanket, series-wide credit each episode. Okay, but I was still an assistant story editor when one or two of the stories that aired last night were written.

Napoleon hates the Shakespeare collar the vet gave me to keep him from pulling off his bandage. Poor puppy. Me, I find it hilarious watching him run into things, but I also feel really bad for him, what with having compassion and loving him and all, so I went to Target and got some kid socks, and so far, they're keeping him from tearing at the bandage and saving him from the collar. Plus, they're adorable, so it's a win-win. :)

Feeling pretty hopeless I'll ever find a job that pays what I need it to. I applied for a job tonight on a start-up that will pay a whopping $500/week. Half what I normally make. I'm hoping that if I get hired, the pay will bump up when the business starts turning profit. And I will get stock, so we'll see. It would be nice to put time in one something lasting. Still, $500 a week is shockingly bad. I'd make more than that as a waiter working 25 hours a week, and judging from the ad, I'm going to be putting in around 50-60 on this. We'll see how the interview goes, I guess.

This week has truly been the suck. I'm really thankful for my friends. You know who you are.

xo,
kd

That's awesome.

2009-01-14T01:33:00.001-08:00

Just found out I got no credit for the show I spent the spring working on. The one I wrote 11 stories for. The glorified loggers who got bumped up in title only to Assistant Story Editor, though? (one of whom was the crappiest logger I've ever seen) They got credit. On the story card.

On top of that, Napoleon had to go to the vet for a $200 abscess in his front left paw today.

Color me so happy.

Officer resigns after BART shooting

2009-01-08T18:22:00.000-08:00

The officer who shot unarmed Oscar Grant in the early morning hours of New Year's Day has resigned in the most cowardly way possible. He has already refused to speak to either BART investigators or the District Attorney's office, and now, instead of attending a meeting with Internal Affairs at which he would have to answer questions, he instead sent his attorney with a letter of resignation, effective immediately, to the meeting.

If he's not guilty of executing Oscar Grant, I can think of no good reason for his actions. Most people who accidentally shot and killed another person would cooperate with investigators. Police officers who accidentally shoot and kill people are especially protected from the effects of their actions, since when they do it, they don't immediately go to jail the way the rest of us do, and they're trained for this sort of thing. So for him to not only refuse to cooperate with the investigation, but to also quit his job so that he can not be compelled to talk to Internal Affairs strikes me as not only cowardly, but guilty. At the very least, he seems to be hiding something, and that's not exactly the actions of a man who made an honest mistake. I'm just sayin'.

Just checkin' in.

2009-01-05T22:36:00.000-08:00

Time's are tough all over...Calli's hubby got downsized today, along with half his company. I especially like how they let everyone go on Christmas break and then made them all bust serious ass on New Year's Eve, all without once mentioning, oh, hi, as soon as the holidays are over, we're canning you without notice.

My NY's resolution is to not say anything about someone else (or another tv show) unless I can say something nice. I've already failed it 3 times. I made it because in this town, it's dangerous to have opinions. Let alone strong ones of the less than favorable variety. But the entertainment business is a very - VERY - small world. 'Course, if I end up never working in television again, my views on - oh, say, Donald Sutherland - won't ever matter to anyone, anyway.

Napoleon has taken to sucking on Razzle's puppy bed. Actually, he doesn't suck. He just gathers up as much of it as he can, crams that in his mouth, and then lies there holding onto it with his paws on either side. Since he also obsessively chases his tail, I looked it up. Apparently sensitive dogs (lol; I just accidentally typed "dongs"...bygones) and shelter dogs that were "rehomed" a lot do that. It's like a comfort thing, like a binky or a security blanket. He's a weird little dude, that puppy. He has issues. Which of course just makes me love him even more.

I've been taking both the pups on walks every day. They're behaving slightly better and coming when called a little better, but there's a long way to go, yet. I'm really worried they'll never really be obedient enough to come when called no matter what, and that's such an important thing that it's stressing me out.

I got TB a ukulele for Christmas. He didn't get it until today because this was the first chance I had to go pick it up. He digs it, so I'm glad I got it, even though we said no presents this year since the economy sucks it and I'm not working.

I really, really, REALLY need a job. :(

I'm freezing my ass off right now.

I'm crocheting a spiral scarf* with this thread. I hate it. It smells funky, and it's freaking impossible to work with. Also, surprisingly, the scarf weighs a freaking TON.

*the one I'm making is MUCH longer.

I'm really tired of listening to Barack Obama's plans to "reach out to Republicans" and how the Pubbies in Congress will have their own demands when he submits his stimulous package to them on January 20. For 6 longass years (or more), I have had to eat Republican crap. They battered at Democrats in Congress with absolutely no regard whatsofuckingever for what was fair or good or decent or best for the country overall, and now, I'm supposed to just shrug and say no hard feelings, and I don't fucking want to do that. I want to smack each and every one of them in the head with a good hard croquet mallet. Just once, and not enough to do any longterm damage, but damn it, what I do NOT want to do is pretend the last 8 fucking years did not matter. Because they did, god damn it. And the fact that Barack Obama wants to pretend there are no hard feelings and no damage done just confirms every single thing I felt about him during the primaries and leading up to the election after he got the nomination. It also cements the feeling that there's no difference at all between the two parties in power; they both want to screw the people of this country over if they can make money doing it, and they do not give a damn about us. I'm telling you people, we are poised on the brink of a depression, if we have not already started down the slide, and it's going to get a LOT uglier before it improves. I really think some people in this country better watch themselves, or their callous, self-centered crap is gonna land them in very unpleasant situations. The peasants seem to be finally starting to figure out just how badly they're getting shafted, and historically, that has not gone well for the non-peasants. I'm just sayin'.

I don't advocate violence in any way (well, in some instances I do, but not in this particular instance/example), but I have to say, I kinda think revolt would be a good thing. Starting over from scratch might be just the thing. It certainly worked for France. Not that I think we should drag people from their beds at night. Just that I think the people of this country need to make it clear exactly who it is actually makes this country function. And it's not some sweatshop in China or call center in India or a corporate asshat driving his Excursion to dinner while he pulls down 8 or 9 figures a year.

I'm just sayin'.

And on that note, I think I should probably get back to "work". Nice chattin' with ya.

kd

ps. yet another $7-800 Billion stimulus package? are you f'g kidding me? how the hell are we supposed to pay for that AND the occupation of Iraq AND the war in Afghanistan AND the $750 Billion giveaway to the financial asshats who landed us all in this mess to begin with? it can't work that way. i'm telling you, way worse before it gets better. you might want to start burying your money in coffee cans...

WoW

2009-01-01T04:57:00.000-08:00

Am now totally hooked on World of Warcraft.

This is especially painful because a) I can't afford it right now, and b) I don't really have time to play it even if I could afford it. Talk about major time suckage. It was a lot of fun, though. :)

Blame Calli. :)

Also, Happy New Year. :) Let's hope 2009 is a good one.

xo,
kd

New Website Pour Moi, BTW

2008-12-31T03:31:00.001-08:00

I'm rebranding my jewelry & skin care business so that I can include stationery and greeting cards and the like. :)

Right now, all I have up is a splash page. I'm spread a little thin at the moment. But let me know what you think, ay? :)

xo,
kd

ps. totally addicted to marian call's got to fly cd. i heartily recommend. :)

Stormy Ghost Chasers...or Ghostly Storm Chasers

2008-12-31T02:29:00.000-08:00

Me again. Tonight, I saw another reality show on Discovery or somesuch "educational" channel, Storm Chasers.

What a train wreck, in all the ways Bad Girls Club isn't. It's horrible. Simply horrible. I refuse to believe that ANY of those people are actually scientists. Srsly. To give you an idea:

1. Rename the show Ghost Chasers.
and
2. Change all references to tornadoes/rotation to ghosts/ectoplasm/cold spots/EVP/spectral activity.

You won't have to amp up the melodrama or high theatrics even the tiniest bit. It's already there. It reminds me of an episode of Ghost Hunters, only way less interesting. Ghost Hunters has a certain campy goodtime to it, and since I've encountered a ghost or 2 and know they're actually out there, Ghost Hunters kinda fascinates me. It's terrible, but there's a level of cheese to it that I adore and find amusing. Not so much with Storm Chasers.

Not so much at all.

Oh no, you di'int.

2008-12-30T13:29:00.001-08:00

While channel surfing today, I came across the Bad Girls Club reunion show. Star Jones and 8 women kvetching and calling each other names, threatening to punch each other out. It was like an episode of The Bachelor crossed with Jerry Springer and then plastered with Dayglo colors and more piercings, tattoos and makeup than you can shake a stick at. It was fascinating in it's awfulness.

Why did nobody tell me this wonder existed?!

The fighting. The swearing. The namecalling. The fiercely trashy trash. Finally, a reality show that makes no bones about its very purpose: participants degenerating into the worst they can possibly be, barring murder and possibly actual physical violence. It's like a slow motion trainwreck, one in which you know someone's head is going to roll, but you want to look closely to see where the special effects are because it's just that incredibly perfect in its explosive destruction. And I can't believe I like it, but I went on YouTube after to look for a specific clip (and ended up watching a few others), and Holy Toledo, it's fantastic. I'm sure there's something wrong with me - the girl who hates reality tv precisely because it's so manufactured and manipulated - but these women are so completely out of control on their own, that chunking them all into a house and watching them go all Lord of the Flies on each other is just completely awesome and mindboggling. I want more!

Somebody help me.

kd

One more thing about gay marriage...

2008-12-30T00:03:00.000-08:00

Mike Huckabee was on The Daily Show recently, and John Stewart got into it with him over gay marriage. Huckabee took the age-old argument about how marriage is strictly defined between a man and a woman and only exists to perpetuate the species, blah blah blah.

I submit this:

If marriage is so all-fired important to keep between a man and a woman and only exists to perpetuate the species and protect the glory of procreation, then the ONLY reason people of any persuasion should be allowed to marry is to procreate. Every single couple who gets married in this country should be forced to sign a legal contract with the state agreeing to procreate within a set period of time - say, 5 years - and if they do not by the date stipulated on their contract manage to conceive and give birth to a healthy child, their marriage should be rendered null and void, and they should be barred from ever marrying each other again.

If marriage exists to perpetuate the human race, I can not see why this should be a problem for all the religious asshats out there who consider gay marriage an abomination. They should be willing to agree to this condition, and if they are not, I call hypocrite.

Big time.

Hola, Peeps!

2008-12-29T23:29:00.000-08:00

I forgot to post Happy Holidays before they actually began, so please consider this my retroactive best wishes for the holiday season. :)

Computer time's been at a premium lately anyway, so most of the time when I got near my computer, it was just to check email and update my status line on Twitter. Also, Jumpin' Jeebus on a pogostick, was I stressed. The holidays are not always warm and fuzzy times here, and this year was pretty suck. Let's move on...

The pups are doing well. We go for a mile walk every day the weather permits, and that seems to be helping build rapport with them. Razzle is much better behaved now and even comes when he's called...sometimes. Napoleon still has extremely selective hearing when it comes to his name, but he's slightly better, too. Both of them are hellions much of the time, but they're getting better since the walks started. Good advice, that. :)

Let's see...

I got everything I asked for for Christmas: remote shutter for camera (not the wireless one, but that's okay), new camera battery, and Dr. Horrible's Singalong Blog on dvd. w00t! I also got a cover for the lcd on my camera, which I really wanted but couldn't find. :)

Just before the holidays, I bought a present for myself, Marian Call's Got to Fly cd, and I love it. Especially Nerd Anthem, She's a Good Old Girl, and It's Good to Have Jayne on Your Side. :) If you're a fan of Firefly/Serenity, you won't be disappointed in it, and the music's good on it's own. Even the songs specifically written about certain geek shows are very broad, so if you aren't a tv geek, you can still dig the tunes for their own music and merit. The lyrics are not specific in most cases, and those that are are only specific if you happen to know the reference. Otherwise, they're just lyrics. Most people probably don't know that "She'll fly true" is a line from Firefly - in the context of the lyrics it does not stand out in geekitude in the slightest. The one utterly Firefly song is actually a real song written by someone else about an Alaskan man named Shane; it's pretty funny all she did was change the name Shane to Jayne and the word mothers to mudders, and it works perfectly. :)

I'm really glad Christmas is over and New Year's is almost done, too. I'm spending my time trying to find a job, rebranding Dragonfly to Bijoux Bisous so I can sell stuff other than jewelry, and girding my loins to actually do my taxes. Aside from that, it's still all puppies, all the time. TB is going out of town for 4 days beginning on Thursday, I believe, so I probably won't be around much except between the hours of 11p and 2a, when both dogs are finally in bed and sleeping.

That's all I got. I hope everyone had a good Christmas/Hanukkah and has a safe and happy New Year's Eve. All good things for all of us in 2009. Fervently wished.

xo,
kd

Meows is back!

2008-12-18T01:01:00.001-08:00

The kitty is found. :) Some people had her a couple of miles away, way down on Ventura Blvd. I had put her poster up at our vet's (along with every other vet's office in like a 10 mile radius), and the neighbors of the people who found her told them they'd seen her picture up and gave them the number. So they called Ty this morning, and he went and got her and surprised me with her. I'm really glad she's safe and sound and happy to have her back again, but I'm worried she won't stay. :( That would suck, so please send the happy kitty vibes for her to stay. I knew in my heart she hadn't gotten killed, so I'm really glad to see her again. I hope she stays.

In other news, it's 54 degrees in the house, and I'm freezing my ass off. I want heat. I hate being cold. Like, really hate it. It makes me bitchier than you've ever seen a woman. It makes me want to punch things. I seriously can't take being this m*!#$!$^!&*@$%g cold all the time. It makes me want to not do anything but stay in front of a space heater or under tons of covers. Unfortunately, my living situation allows for neither. Can I point out exactly how fucking miserable it is to do dishes when it's 50 fucking degrees in your house? You can't do dishes in a fucking parka. You also can't really comfortably eat, brush your teeth, clean the bathroom, do laundry, or any other household chore in a fucking parka.

Did I mention the irritability? Coz dude, the cold makes me really fucking irritable. And the longer I'm cold, the more irritable (which is how nice people say bitchy) I get. I can be cold going outside. I can be cold waiting for my car to warm up on a drive in the cold outside. I can be cold in a host of places and under a wealth of situations, but I NEED MY MOFO-ING HOUSE TO BE WARM. I need my bed to be warm. I need to be able to get out of bed in a house that's not 45 frigging degrees or colder in the mornings. If I can see my breath inside my house, IT'S TOO MOTHERF'G COLD IN IT. I will give up television. I will give up the internet. I can not give up central heat and hot running water. I just can't. This sucks beyond all measure. (i do wish to point out we have hot water. if we didn't, i'd murder someone. just to get that out there.)

So now, I have to go stand in the bathroom in my parka and brush my teeth while the space heater warms the room enough for me to change from my clothing to my flannel sock monkey pj's as fast as is humanly possible, and then jump into my nice, icy cold bed. I hope the dogs aren't too cold. :( They don't have covers. They're inside, but they don't have a doghouse or anything to build heat. :( I worry about them.

But the cat's home. That's definitely a good thing. Vibes and energy, please.

xo,
kd

Yesterday & a Meme

2008-12-09T22:01:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was flat out awful. Really awful. Nothing good to say about it whatsoever. I watched a single vulture buy the entirety of my grandmother's household contents for $300, including the rug I played on with Gramma as a child. It far exceeded my expectations of how crappy an experience it was going to be.

I'm going to leave it there, because I'm trying not to sound negative, but suffice to say this:
1. I cried. Hard. And I'm still very upset.
2. I think when you die, you will have to answer to God for taking advantage of people, especially hurt or helpless people. And the woman who did that yesterday can suck it. So can the auctioneer, who clearly knew her and helped her do it. His attitude alone was miserable.
3. As predicted, yes, my uncle did hold his hand out. And he was very unhappy to find out he wasn't going to get anything. My mom used the entire $400 we got yesterday (see next paragraph) to pay for her plane ticket.

I did get my grampa's rocking armchair, which I love very, very much, and the grandfather clock. I'm trying to focus on that and the fact that one very, very nice and compassionate man (named Mike) also showed up to the auction, and I will never, ever forget his kindness. He paid $95 for some odds & ends in a lot that was on the dining room table, and while I know he wanted 2 of the items from the lot, they weren't really worth a hundred bucks. I was just grateful to see them go to him, because I knew they had value to him, they weren't something to sell for profit. Mike, wherever you are out there in the Inland Empire, I love you, man. I really, really do. God bless and keep you, always.

So moving on...Brea Grant - who I am following on Twitter - has a blog, and she posted this meme to it: childhood celebrity crushes. I figure if Brea Grant can embarrass herself in this manner, so can I. So here goes, roughly in order of their occurrence.

1. Glenn Campbell - I used to sit in front of the tv when I was little and blow kisses at the man during his variety show, The Glenn Campbell Goodtime Hour. I don't know why. My mom and dad thought it was the cutest, most adorable thing ever. I remember doing it and that when the show came on, Mom would have to pry me away from the giant console television set, as I insisted on sitting on the floor, front and center about 3' away from the screen. That's about how close you could sit before everything dissolved into RBG dots, and when Mom would tell me to move back, I'd begrudgingly (really begrudgingly) move back to the 4' mark. I'm sure this part of my life was the mold for making me the gigantic geek I am today.

2. John Denver - What can I say? I like 'em quirky.

3. Gene Kelley - I just thought Gene Kelley was the cat's meow. Brilliant smile; soft, melodic voice; grace; dignity; and he was built. ::sigh:: What's not to love? I happily admit to still having a bit of that crush. I always will. And if a Gene Kelley movie is on, you bet your buttons I'm watching it. And crushing on Gene. :)

4. Randolph "Randy" Mantooth - Many, many hours were spent in front of the tv pining for Rampart's trusty first responder. ::deep, heartfelt sigh::

4. Sean Cassidy - I know. I'm still trying to live it down. I don't even want to tell you how huge and all-encompassing this crush was. It's just way too humiliating. Leif Garrett, HA. The Brothers Gibb? Triple HA. Parker Stevenson? Don't make me laugh. I was Sean's girl, through and through.

5. Mark Hamill - Look, I was in 7th grade. Han Solo was too intimidating. Luke Skywalker was earnest and safe and totally adorable. Don't worry; I rectified this in high school. (Ironically, btw, when I grew up and moved to California, I became friends with my friend Bill, who it turns out went to college with Mark Hamill and was in the theatre arts department with him...and had a huge crush on Hamill's girlfriend. Bill said every girl on campus had a huge thing for the Lukester.)

6. Dirk Benedict - Again, I *know*. All I have in my defense is Battlestar Galactica. Who among us did NOT have a crush on Starbuck? Besides you wheenies who had things for Richard Hatch, of course. ;)

If we extend this into the high school years - and since we're on a roll, why don't we; it's slightly less embarrassing - we get (in order of crush):

7. Tom Selleck - Magnum P.I. Seriously, need I say more? I had his posters on my bedroom wall and the doors to my room and my closet.

8. Pierce Brosnan - Smoldering intensity, brooding good looks, tall, dark, handsome. Remington Steele.

9. Timothy Hutton - His picture was on my closet door, too. Clearly, I really had a thing for earnest guys. I can only guess this is because I was so darned earnest, myself.

10. Harrison Ford - Also on the closet door. :) I still have a bit of this crush still going fairly strong. Dude: he's Han Solo and Indiana Jones. How can you not think he's totally rugged and dreamy, in theory, at the very least? Also? Working Girl. Earnest and safe and totally adorable. Which I'm sure is every guy's dream description. ;)

11. Tom Cruise - I am so over this crush, it's not even funny. It was pretty intense for a few years, but the freakishness of certain aspects of his life way killed it, believe me. Plus, he always plays the same nihilistic asshole in all his films, so I don't even admire him as an actor anymore. Rest in peace, old crush, and good riddance.

That probably brings us to the present, but I am not going to tell you who my secret celebrity crushes are, just in case they google their names and end up here, because if I ever meet them in person, I don't want them to have preconceived notions about me. And sure, that's ridiculous and laughable, and I wouldn't blame you for thinking I'm a freak for thinking that, but The Boyfriend? Was once a celebrity crush of mine back in the day, and then we met at a birthday party, and now we live together. So there. :)

Prop 8 - The Musical

2008-12-06T14:57:00.000-08:00

I think it should be called "Prop 8!". ;) I just wish it were longer than 3m13s.

Cast (in order of appearance):
California Gays and The People That Love Them
Jordan Ballard, Margaret Cho, Barrett Foa, J.B. Ghuman, John Hill, Andy Richter, Maya Rudolph, Rashad Naylor, Nicole Parker

Proposition 8'ers and The People That Follow Them:
Prop 8 Leader- John C. Reilly
Prop 8 Leader's #1 Wife - Allison Janney
Prop 8 Leader's #2 Wife - Kathy Najimy
Riffing Prop 8'er - Jenifer Lewis
Preacher - Craig Robinson
Scary Catholic School Girls From Hell - Rashida Jones, Lake Bell, Sarah Chalke
The Frightened Villagers - Katharine "Kooks" Leonard, Seth Morris, Denise "Esi!" Piane, Lucian Piane, Richard Read, Seth Redford, Quinton Strack, Tate Taylor, Brunson Green

Special Appearances:
Jesus Christ - Jack Black
A Very Smart Fellow - Neil Patrick Harris
Piano Player - Marc "Marc" Shaiman (who also wrote)

Random Stuff

2008-12-05T23:30:00.000-08:00

I was driving to the bark park today when I thought of something I needed to call Calli about. So I whipped out my trusty cell phone at the red light and scrolled through the past calls menu to her number, hit dial, hit speaker, and clipped it to my seatbelt, across my chest. As I'm doing that, I hear "Now that's hands-free," from the car next to me, which I am aware has been sitting there the entire time I've been doing this. (We have a new law here stating you can't use a cell phone while driving unless you can do so without holding it in your hands.) I look over, and there, in plain view and big as day, are two uniformed members of the Los Angeles Police Department, complete with big ol' Crown Victoria LAPD black & white cruiser.

Oops?

I grinned, and they grinned back.

I said, "I don't have to hold it, and then when I'm finished, all I have to do is flip it closed. (not, strictly speaking, true; I have to hit the end button too, but I don't have to look at the phone to do that, and even with a hands-free device, you have to press something to end the call.) That's legal, right?"

"Hey," he says, "as long as it's hands-free, I'm good with it."

I grinned and said have a nice day, and the light changed, and he said you too, and we went our merry ways.

Links with your Saturday coffee:
Bush Strikes Again - I'm pretty easy on gun owners, because I recognize the importance a gun can have for home protection, and if I could afford one, I'd have one myself. But there's not a single reason on God's green earth you need to take a concealed weapon into a national park, and that's just one drunken idiot or asshole away from a whole heap of crap waiting to happen. Seriously. All this does is make park rangers' jobs more difficult and possibly dangerous. Twenty-five frigging years, we did not have yahoos with concealed weapons taking them into the national frigging parks. And we do not need them to. Yet another reason to hate George Dubya Bush and the NRA.

The show I worked on during the spring is finally set to air...opposite American Idol, where I'm sure it'll head out like gangbusters. I dare you to view that preview and then tell me with a straight face that it's not meant to appeal to a certain part of the population, namely the same assholes who will be taking their concealed weapons into national parks, and Sarah Palin. I bet the Palin household will be big fans. I promise when I was working on it that while I did feel a large amount of conflict for basically helping produce propaganda for DHS, I was unaware I was working directly for the Powers of Darkness. Oh, the horror.

I completely heart Twitter. Blame Feng and Angelina. Actually, come to think of it, blame Feng. What I really love about it is that besides being able to track what tons of random people are doing in the world, actors like Greg Grunberg and Brea Grant, both from Heroes, not only post updates on what they're doing, they take pictures, too! Love!

I have conquered my Bejeweled2 addiction.

And replaced it with Cubis2.

What the hell are some people thinking?

Reason 232 to like people.

I love how white collar assholes like AIG get what basically amounts to a blank check to do with as they will, but blue collar guys not only have to come up with a plan and accountability, they don't even get all the money they asked for. In fact, they get about 1/10th what AIG got, even after AIG spent a million dollars of its bailout money on massages and golf trips for their executives. Yeah. No class warfare there. No sir.

Step back from the hyperbole, Tallulah. You're done. :)

Have a good weekend, everybody.

peace out,
katie

Sigh. It's 2008, and still.

2008-12-05T14:55:00.000-08:00

You'd think that by now people would have gotten used to the idea that black people are people too. We live in a country full of people who are not like us, no matter what we happen to be. So it really should come as no big deal when a black man is elected president. It should come as no big deal when a woman runs for president. Or that gay people would like to be married.

And yet, the world is full of scared, little idiots.

I really don't understand this mindset, at all. I understand that some people are terrified of anything not like themselves. And I understand that for pretty much 8 longass years, this country has been fueled more and more by people in Washington who set the standard for drawing lines in the sand and dividing the country into Us and Them. But apparently, the citizenry of this country is even more frightened and ignorant than I give them credit for. Which is saying a LOT, because frankly, I revile much of America for being completely stupid. No offense, but I see so much stupidity and nastiness on a daily basis that I really kinda gave up on most of my fellow countrymen some years ago. I realize some of you are aces, and that's the only thing that keeps me going, so don't think I've written the lot of you off. But I *have* decided that about 90% of you suck. Just clearly not the 10% reading here. I am all about the tough love, and if you were one of the 90, you wouldn't be here, so please don't feel put upon. I love you. And I don't think you're walking around spouting "kill kill," so let's move on.

Thanks for the birthday greetings and love. :) I spent the day doing nothing and going to the bark park. Actually, not nothing. I did unload the dishwasher. :)

Someone emailed me about a job and then failed to email me back. I wish she'd email back. I could use one. I'm about to head out to Westlake on Monday afternoon and see about a waiting job out there, in a deli. I'm not thrilled with this proposition, but times are tough, and they just got a LOT tougher in the Doyle household. Hopefully when EDD calls on Saturday, they'll see I'm not a sick slacker and will give me my benefits back, because other cuts were just made to the household, as well. :( I really think this is going to turn into a depression, if it's not already. If you have a job in this economy, be stoked, no matter how crappy a job it might be.

So we're starting a new year here, what with the birthday and all, and I'm going to try to make my posts more positive. Oh, don't worry, there will still be kvetching. I don't think I can blog without kvetching, what with this being my only form of therapy and all, but I also subscribe to that whole your thoughts are your words are your deeds thing, and if I want to be happier, I have to try to be happier, and I guess that means I shouldn't blog so much dour and sour crap. It's easier to blog the bad, because there's so freaking much of it these days, but the good needs more airing, too. I admire those people who are happy. Or seem happy. I want so much to be like them. The positive people. The shiny, happy people. I don't understand how they do it anymore than I do the hateful, hate-spewing bigots. But it's probably easier to pretend to be one of the Happy. I've been doing that most of my life. I just need to remember how. Maybe then I'll find hope again. Hope makes it a lot easier to be happy. Or to seem to be, anyway. And seeming is believing. Or something like that. ;)

xo,
kd

Freaking. OUT.

2008-12-02T00:38:00.000-08:00

So, my unemployment check did not come today. What *did* come was a letter telling me they've scheduled a phone interview for me December 6 between 1 and 3pm. As if there's going to be anyone in a government office on Saturday. I don't think so.

The reason for this is because apparently, I've put down too many sick days. Which I did so that I could prolong my benefits. When I didn't *need* the whole whopping $373 a week they give me, I would put down a sick day or 2. Then the week I helped my mom, I put down all 7. Apparently, this was exactly the wrong thing to do. The letter says they don't think I'm capable of working and that I might want to consider having a "representative" on hand during the interview.

No stress, there.

Plus? I'm out of money. And Napoleon has a staph infection that cost me $116 today.

I have a pounding headache, and my back is tied up in knots. On top of my own stress, I'm now having to deal with Ty's, because he wanted to know why I'd gotten so bitchy, and I told him, knowing full well he would make it all his problem, and then I'd have to deal with that on top of my own frigging stress.

I sure could use that frigging incentive check they sent out to everyone but me. And I have to do all my taxes this month...and I just realized I forgot to send in my sales and use taxes, which are absolutely, positively, can't be any later, MUST be paid by, due tomorrow. Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You're breaking my heart, David Tennant. :(

2008-11-28T19:08:00.000-08:00

So, a coupla seasons ago, I stumbled across an episode of Dr. Who, a series I reviled my entire childhood (when it was Tom Baker) as ridiculous camp with terrible special effects. But this Doctor was a fast talking, irreverent scamp, and despite myself - and Billie Piper - I started watching the show. And promptly fell in love with David Tennant's Tenth Doctor. I even came to like Billie Piper, and the episode where the Doctor had to leave her behind in another dimension made me cry. (What?! It was a really well-written scene.) Since then, I've watched the Doctor - and Tennant's is the only Doctor for me - charge across the universe with Martha Jones, Donna Noble, and briefly again with Jack Harkness, and I am just crushed to find - late, I admit, but then, British television doesn't get a lot of attention here in the States - that my beloved Tennant is leaving the show.

I don't want to watch someone else be the Doctor, I want David Tennant.

No one else will properly chew the scenery and fire off technobabble at proper breakneck, barely comprehensible (and sometimes completely INcomprehensible) speed. No one else will be half so rakishly, adorably dashing or boyishly, impishly handsome. Plus, I really *like* this Doctor. I like what Tennant's done to make the character so completely his. I love how complex and sad he is. Not that I want him to be sad, but Tennant nails it so very, very well, that I don't want someone else to come along and step into his shoes. It just won't be the same. I suppose it's just as well, as I totally LOVED Catherine Tate as Donna Noble, and the two of them were really good together, so it's kind of fitting that since Donna had to go back to being just Donna after all she'd learned and seen and done with the Doctor, that the Doctor she did it all with is leaving too, and I can consider the story resolved and over, but it still makes me sad, all good things, and all that.

So goodbye, Mr. Tennant. I would have been thrilled if they *had* had to pry the TARDIS key from your hand, many, many years from now. I will miss watching you every week, you cheeky, mad, wonderful Doctor, you. I had a bit of a crush on your marvelous creation. So thanks for the seasons I got. They were great, great fun.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-26T21:27:00.000-08:00

To you, my 3 faithful readers. :)

I hope your turkeys are juicy, the stuffing is without giblets (unless you like it that way ::shudder::), the mashed potatos are plentiful, the cranberry sauce is the real deal, and dessert is your favorite. :)

I will be staying home because I have a lot to do and 2 dogs in the house (not so much clean stuff to wear, though, laundry being one of the things I have to do), and with the rain comes the leaking, and TB needs to be on top of that. Plus, he loves the football, and I don't want to leave him with 2 dogs to supervise when his team will be playing. (His family is up in Mammoth or somewhere.)

Thanksgiving's never been that huge a deal to me, anyway, though I have to say that if Tom makes the insane squash (gourd?) soup he made last year, I am going to weep and wail for having missed it. That stuff was AWESOME.

The CV boot is going on my car, and I haven't the money to fix it anyway, so it's better I not drive. I'm on borrowed time as it is. :(

So that's all I got. I hope your holiday is happy. :)

xo,
kd

You really have to be careful how you phrase things.

2008-11-24T22:20:00.000-08:00

I had a shite day. Like, completely, 100% crap. Almost nothing went at all correctly. About the only things that actually went according to plan were a) I was able to withdraw money from the ATM, and b) I was able to purchase a stamp at the post office. The rest of the day? Shite.

1. I had to go today to the County Clerk's office to renew my business DBA registration. Had to be done *today*.

The building is closed until further notice, and the only way to do it was to drive downtown, a feat I had neither the time nor willpower to do.

2. I had to buy a printer ribbon for the fax machine.

Nope. Not in stock.

3. I needed to go see a man about a purchase I ordered ages ago and then forgot to go pay for.

Not open on Mondays.

4. I went into Baja Fresh nextdoor, to buy a badly needed chunk of deep-fried carbs known as a churro.

Out of churros.

I need to move out, and I have no way to pay rent, no idea what to do to pay rent, and no idea where to pay rent, since I can't afford to continue living in Los Angeles, especially with two large dogs, but I have no way to get my shit crosscountry to anywhere else. So I have decided just to pack my shit and decide where to put it afterward.

Sorry for the use of the pejorative, but damn it, that's the day I had, one in which the only appropriate way to refer to all the belongings one has accrued in one's lifetime as "shit." It may not sound like much on "paper," but believe me, it was a really crap day.

I then came home and cleaned the kitchen, which was part of what the fight was about, and believe me, there's a crapload more to it, but let's just leave it at I needed to clean the kitchen.

I then left home to take the dogs to the bark park without remembering to turn on the dishwasher, so when I got home to make dinner?

No clean dishes.

So I went to start the dishwasher.

No dishwasher detergent.

Earlier in the day, I had remarked aloud that the only way my day could get any frigging worse was if someone ended up dead or in the emergency room.

Would you care to guess where my day next led?

If you guessed puppy ER, give yourself a cookie and 100 points.

While TB and I were discussing the crapitude in our relationship at the moment, Napoleon, who was at my feet, rooting around the edge of the floor as he always does, began to choke. TB had to get down and remove whatever it was from his throat. I will spare you the grisly details. 10 minutes later, Napoleon was still trying to hack/throw up whatever was in his throat, so I took him to the ER, where they gave him stuff to make him throw up...and then came out and gave me a HUGE lecture on what a bad pet owner I am as they showed me the contents of his stomach, which was, aside from the obvious disgusting, appalling. Pine cones (copious, copious amounts), 3" long pine needles (both brown and green), pine twigs, whole chunks of Natural Balance deli roll he did not bother to chew (the largest of which was approx. 1.5 x 1 x .5" and earned me an extra scolding), kibble, canned food, small rocks, the fabric from the underside of a sofa, cardboard, bits of a red bottle lid, and the piece de resistance: several chunks of green plastic safety netting. Almost all of which he ingested while I was out running errands today and TB was supposed to be supervising him. So TB has paid the vet bill and does not expect to be reimbursed, since he feels largely responsible for the entire escapade. And the cost of the bill?

$300.

For stuff to make him throw up, stuff to stop him from throwing up, charcoal to coat his entire digestive track, incase he ate anything toxic or caustic which is what made him choke, and syrup to give him tomorrow to coat his throat and stomach, in case all that sharp crap ulcerated the lining of his stomach and/or esophagus. Frankly, I thought it was going to be $500, so 3 was a bit of a relief. He can not go outside unsupervised or do anything more strenous than go on a short, leashed walk for the next 3-4 days. He's currently passed out in his box behind me, where I put him when he insisted on wrestling with Razzle until he rasped and wheezed so loudly you could hear it from 6' away. :(

All of this after I put my knee into his ribs at the bark park for repeatedly doing a bad behavior, and he yelped sharply, then immediately sat and gave me the single most heartbreaking look ever, which clearly said "what did you do that for?" in an utterly confused and betrayed fashion. It made me feel like the biggest jerk ever, and I had to work not to cry for being such a loser to my dog. Now he's been shot up with drugs twice, made to throw up, and imprisoned in his box so he'll be still. :(

When the vet tech brought him out to me at the end of his 2 hour event at the ER tonight, she remarked, "Your dog will eat anything." To which I nodded sagely, as I know this about him already, and said, "Yes, he will."

"No," she said, "you don't understand. We gave him charcoal. We have to force feed that to 90% of the dogs that come in here, but he wolfed it down like it was candy. He'll eat anything."

Awesome.

peace out,
katie

Yep. That's My Hometown...

2008-11-24T02:56:00.001-08:00

A guy swinging samurai swords was shot and killed by a security guard at the Scientology Celebrity Center yesterday. I've been there, and frankly, if there's a more Stepford place on the entire planet, I don't ever want to experience it. But this story poses two questions for me.

1. How the hell does a man bearing not one but two samurai swords show up in a red convertible on Franklin Street,

and

2. Why the hell does the Scientology Center employ armed guards, and is that standard practice at all Scientology properties? (okay, 3. sue me.)

No Money 4 H8rs

2008-11-19T22:05:00.000-08:00

Here's a list of the people, businesses, public officials and organizations (church and secular) who supported Yes on Prop 8, for those of you who don't care to give your money to haters and bigots.

I got it by way of Jonny-C, who went to the big march on Saturday and blogged it here. :)

I'm already boycotting Cinemark theatres, whose CEO gave $10K to the prop. I'm considering when I open my website again making sure the front page says that I'm equality-based. I don't really give a damn if people see that I'm supportive of my gay and lesbian bretheren and that makes them not want to buy from me. If that's the kind of person you are, I don't want your money anyway.

That's kind of ironic.

2008-11-19T13:57:00.001-08:00

Yesterday's entry earned it's first comment by a person whose Blogger ID said Fitness and whose "blog" is nothing more than a spam account setup to enable them to more easily spam blogs.

So I write an entry about how much I don't like assholes, and an asshole is the first to comment, with spam.

I reported you to Blogger, "Fitness," though I realize you probably have at least a dozen accounts from which to spam and abuse. I don't care - at least you'll be inconvenienced enough to have to create another one. You are the type of person who makes this world everything poor and dumb and shitty. YOU are the guy who leaves his dog at the pound because it's not convenient. You're a user and con who would sell out everyone you know for a measley hundred bucks and congratulate yourself on your pathetic little score. You're the guy people make fun of at parties when you aren't around, or the girl they all smile at but talk major smack about how dumb or fat or skanky she is and can you believe she actually thinks that looks good? I know you. I know you really, really well. I've laughed at you my entire life and thought how pathetic and useless you are. Your major contribution to life is hiding behind a firewall and spamming people you think will click a link to take them somewhere where you can sell them a fake or shit product or infect them with a trojan or keylogging wyrm. I'm not impressed. You aren't enterprising. You're just useless. And I love the feeling of disdain you give me as I paste your profile address into the spam bar. It brings me a certain satisfaction just knowing how much better than you I am. So I guess thanks for that. You're good for something, afterall.

Reasons 49 and 1 why I don't like people. Otherwise entitled "Whew."

2008-11-18T21:08:00.000-08:00

So, last week went better than expected, in that my mom and I did not kill each other, and she did not spend much time rehashing the past. Possibly because both my remaining uncles were losers who refused to help sort through Gramma's possessions once it became clear to them they would not be making any money out of the deal. We all went by the storage unit after Uncle John's service on Monday, and the oldest uncle took an expensive lamp and something else, and my aunt his wife took the dishes she wanted, then took the lampshade and bulb out of the lamp and left them for me and Mom to deal with, and they all cruised. My younger uncle was supposed to come back the next day to help me and Mom pull furniture out of the unit so we could go through and remove any personal items we might want, and he called me the next morning and said he couldn't make it. Then the next morning he called my mom and out and out refused to come help. So she and I had to find a charity to donate the appliances to, which took 4 days, on accounta the first charity that was supposed to come flaked out - which is a mini story all its own. So finally, on Thursday, we gave up and pulled all the furniture we were able to move out so that we could at least take photographs of the antique organs in the back corner for the auctioneer. That was a lot of fun, since my mom is 70 years old and has a bad back, and the space was stacked up to the rafters with heavy stuff like electric massage chaise lounges from the 70s, naugahyde (pleather) sleeper sofas that weigh about a billion tons, ash bookcases, oak rocking chairs with high backs, kitchen chairs, exercise equipment, an old RCA rear projection big screen television, plate glass mirrors, boxes of office equipment, an old Army filing cabinet from WWII that was The Colonel my grandfather's (not the cool Grampa I adored), the double doors from the fridge which were removed for some reason and were pretty heavy, an old (like at least my age) braided rag rug measuring roughly 8x10' that I have photographs of Gramma crawling around on with baby me on her back (and if you don't think THAT's heavy, think again), a coffee table made from the roots and a cross-section of a California Redwood tree that I snagged my arms on about a million times and remember very well from my childhood, having learned to color on it, an old desk from around the 40s, antique bedside dressers scavenged from what used to be my grandmother's vanity way back in the early 20s, an antique 4-poster headboard, and a plethora of other items. We moved out as much of it as we could, but we couldn't get to the boxes in the other back corner, because the dressers and bookshelves standing on top of the sets of fullsize mattresses were just too heavy to get down. We used sliders to move the desk out so I could take pictures of it and the organs. I should have taken pictures of the huge dresser that was behind the desk, but I forgot to. By the time we moved all that out so I could take pictures, I was pretty exhausted, and then we had to put it all back. It took us the entire day to move it all out and then stack it all back in.

As for the charity who flaked, they were supposed to show up Wednesday after lunch and never did - Clue #1 - so I called them around 2:30 to find out where they were. They were going through a drive-thru (I heard him ordering), and the guy said oh, they'd be there at 5, and then asked me when the storage place closed. Clue #2. I told him 6, and he sucked the breath in through his teeth in a sound that clearly said that wasn't going to work for him, which made me wonder why, since he said he'd be here by 5. Clue #3. He said okay, they'd try to make it there by 4. I said great and relayed that to my mom. We were bummed, but we continued moving stuff out of the unit, trying to get to the stuff we needed to. By that time, we'd already moved the front half of stuff out of the unit 3 times and in twice. Five o'clock rolled around, and there was no sign of the truck. I called the charity and got the first guy's son, and he said he'd call the truck and see where they were. He put me on hold for over 10 minutes and then came back and said he couldn't "find them" and he'd call me back. Clue #4. I called him back at 6, and he said they'd gotten caught up at another pick up and were running late. I said well how late, because we really needed the stuff picked up before Friday, and he said too late to come by that night, but they'd be by the next day (Thursday) "between 12 and 1." Clue #5. I asked if we could be the first pick up scheduled, because we had to move other items out of the unit, and it absolutely had to be done before Friday, and we could not do it until they came for the appliances, and he said "12 and 1 is our first pick up, ma'am." Really? You don't pick up your first donation until the middle of the day??? Clue #6. I stressed how important it was that they show up as early as possible, and he said no problem. The next morning, I called and got the first guy I'd spoken to, and said I was just touching base to make sure they were going to be there between 12 and 1. He whipped out the snotty and said, 'Ma'am, I told you yesterday, we would come to get that stuff on Saturday,' like I was an idiot, to which I replied, "No, you didn't," and he cut me off with this shitty little rant not to talk to him like that, that he was not one of my children, and I had no business speaking to him like that and being rude, and that I could just call back and speak to another representative when I could be polite, and he hung up on me.

Oh, no, you di'int.

I immediately called back and the coward let it go to the machine. So in a very modulated and cultured tone of voice - my Disney heroine voice, in fact, less the saccharine - as we were exiting my mom's hotel and crossing the parking lot, I left a very calm and detailed message telling him that in point of fact, he had told me they would be there yesterday, and we had waited the entire afternoon, at which point he said he'd be there by 5, but had neither actually showed up or called to cancel, that I had spent my entire day waiting for him, I had depended on him, and he had not show up. Then I had been told by another representative at his company that he would arrive between 12 and 1 today, I had believe that and depended on that, and he had screwed me over, so now, HE COULD SHOVE IT UP HIS ASS. Which, yes, I shouted into my cell phone as we were crossing the parking lot, causing my mother to have about 8 million conniptions AND a kitten, she was so appalled. I then flipped my phone closed and apologized to both my mother and the man who was walking past us at the time, and roughly 7.2 milliseconds later, my phone rang. I look down at it and go, "Gee. Guess who it is," and she asks if I'm going to answer it, at which point I say, "no." She says well maybe he's calling to say they're going to come pick the stuff up, and I said doubtful - he was more than likely calling to tell me off, and I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction, and oh, gee, I don't have voice mail, so he won't even have the pleasure of leaving me that. I hit the silence button on my phone, and we headed to the storage unit again, where we called my cousin, and she arranged for another charity to come and pick the stuff up the next morning. Which was great, but also meant that we had to move the damned appliances out ourselves so that we could get further into the unit, to the organs. Which is the day we spent the day moving all that stuff out. And let me tell you, by the end of that day, any shame I might have felt for cursing at a guy working for an AIDS charity had completely gone the way of the dodo, the lameass ***********r. That was one hell of a bitch of a day, and I was really pretty pissed off, not only at him, but at my lameass uncles for leaving my mother to deal with all of it on her own. They didn't even know I would be there, and it turns out the older one had promised my mother he'd come up on Thursday to help, and not only did he not show, he never even called her to say he wouldn't or why he didn't, even by the time she left Saturday afternoon. But I guarantee you the day of the auction, he'll be there with his hand out for a cut of the sale money. Which I told my mother I'd be really f'g pissed off if she gave him, not for the money's sake but for the principle of the thing. You may remember when Gramma died, these same two uncles accused me of stealing their inheritance because I took home some stuff no one wanted and some to mail to my mom so she wouldn't have to take it on the plane and to mail to Gramma's relatives on my GG's side. Also Gramma's sewing machine which doesn't work and which my mother had given her, and since no one else wanted it and I hadn't taken the china cabinet and antique buffet, dining table and chairs Gramma left to me because I don't have room for it all, they all announced I should have. They wouldn't let me have the grandfather clock that I wanted either, but it's been sitting in that storage room for the last 5 years, getting filthy inside, with the original bill of sale on top of it. My uncle said at the time that his boys wanted it and that they should have it, so he refused to let me take it. Imagine my irritation to see it sitting there, and then to find the bill of sale on top of it with the original price of $623 in 1973. Which is exactly why they didn't take it: it wasn't an antique and it wasn't valuable. Losers. But, NOW I get the clock. :) At this moment, it's sitting there with a pink post-it with my name on it. Ditto Grampa's armchair.

So all's well, I suppose. Now I have to send the photos I took and the unit inventory to the auction people, and the auction will be some day in December, the day of which, I will meet Mom at the unit, where I will pick up the clock and armchair (and I think the rug) and the boxes we aren't selling, and haul them all back here, where some of it will be sold to used booksellers, and the rest will go to a thrift store. I'm sure when my uncles show up for their cut of the sale, we'll go into this again, but let's not till then, shall we?

The week was really emotional, because it's really hard to come to grips with strangers buying my gramma's stuff, let alone for cheap so that they can turn around and sell it in another auction or on eBay to other strangers. I had a hard time letting go of things, and I'm sure it will be worse the day of the sale. It's hard to see things you grew up loving in the only place that was really home to you and know that other people who don't care for those things and don't know what they really are will look at them with a stranger's critical eye and pay all of $5 for the green bookshelves that housed Jonathan Livingston Seagull and World Book Encyclopedia and your mother's yearbooks and photo survey books of far away and exotic places to which your grandmother had travelled and the handcarved knicknacks of those travels and heavy bronze elephant head bookends and bookends with spinning Old World globes. They won't care that you slept in that four poster bed every single time you stayed with Gramma throughout your childhood and into maturity. Or that you have a recurring dream about that very same bed. They won't care that you had Sunday dinners at that table, with a hand-tatted white lace tablecloth and engraved sterling silver service and Beaver Cleaver water glasses and roses Grandmother grew, cut, and arranged herself in a cut crystal vase in the center, or that dessert was strawberries from Gramma's own garden and still warm from the sun. They won't care that just looking at any one of those pieces of furniture, you are instantly transported back in time and can see it as it once stood, with all the trappings of life carefully laid out upon it and smell the room it was in, from the smell of books and wood and dust in the den to rosa damascena in the bathroom or roast beef and gravy in the dining room. They won't care you learned to color on that redwood table or played horsie with Gramma on that rug. The happiest times of your life will sell for pennies on the dollar, to cretins who will see no value in any of it beyond what they think they can get for it at auction somewhere else. It lends a whole new perspective to estate sales, let me tell you. I was never someone who bargained with people having sales anyway, and I can guarantee you now that I never will become one. It's a hard thing to see from the other side.

At any rate, the week is done, and now I'm back at real life, with a boatload of stuff to do this week, not the least of which is my taxes. So...yay!

And um, stuff.

Today, I went to get Napoleon's license, and TB asked me to go through the cats while I was there and see if Meows was inside. That was tough, and then when I was leaving, some asshole was turning in his dog, which looked like it was maybe 3 years old, tops, and I'd guess actually right around a year. The woman warned him she couldn't guarantee the dog would not be put to sleep, to which he replied, "That's okay."

That's okay.

Then he went out and got the dog and brought it in, and it was a pitbull mix that looked just as sweet and trusting as can be, but while I was watching went from happy dog to a dog shaking with stress, and it just broke my heart. I went out to the car and called TB, sobbing. I couldn't drive for a while, I was so upset. I wanted to beat the living daylights out of that asshole. It was on the tip of my tongue to snarl at him, "Why don't you at least fucking take a week to put him on Craigslist, you fucking prick," but I didn't, because this is LA, and men here don't think anything about getting physical with you later when you call them on their bullshit - as you know I have experienced more than a few times here - so despite opening my mouth and taking a breath to say that, I didn't, and now I wish I had. But I was so upset, I went down to Big Lots and bought $80.11 worth of blankets and towels (10 60x70" fleece throws and 8 bath towels) and turned around and took 'em all back to the shelter. Which made me feel a little better, but the only thing getting me by was the mantra, "I believe God will help and save that dog, because I asked him to," because I said a prayer to God and to Jesus, and my faith sucks it, but I really need to believe that God will give that dog comfort and help him not to be afraid and then send someone to adopt him, because that's the only thing getting me through. So if you don't mind, please say a prayer and cross your fingers or whatever it is you do when you need help from above, so that God knows that poor dog needs help. And maybe while He's at it, he'll sling some charity around the entire shelter. And I believe that if you have faith - 100% faith - that God will answer your prayer, He will, but you have to have faith. And I'm really not good with that, so I said that mantra for the next hour and a half, and I'm still saying it, because if I have faith, that dog will find a home and hopefully won't be too horribly freaked out while he's in the pound. The way he was shaking really crushed me. So please spin some help that way, huh?

Peace out,
Katie

Apologies & Bygones (I hope)

2008-11-08T01:17:00.000-08:00

I need to step back from my vitriol of Wednesday.

I'm frustrated, and spewing anger is not going to help the situation. The thing to do now is to take a proactive stance and move forward, not point fingers. I was really upset when I wrote that, but it's no excuse. And it's entirely possible that in pointing the finger, I upset people I would not want to offend. People like Jon & Tom, whom I love. It's never really a good idea to devolve into an us and them sort of thing, which is kinda what I did. I didn't mean to, but I did, and I don't want to do that. There's already enough of it going around, the last 8 years. So please accept my apologies for being so freakish. I'm sure plenty of LGBT peeps voted against the prop. Maybe there are fewer of them than I think in the state, and it's just that there were way more jerks voting for it than all us straight allies and LGBT peeps voting against it. And I never meant to make it sound like straight people don't hold blame for not voting either, because they do. I just had that whole people who won't stand up for themselves thing in my head. I'm sorry I wrote it, and I deleted it. Suffice to say, I'm really disappointed in the whole Prop 8 thing and looking to move forward in anyway I can to help destroy it.

Peace out,
Katie

Somebody Help Me

2008-11-07T12:19:00.000-08:00

I've got this stuck in my head now. For like, 3 weeks.

Help.

Of Bullets Dodged

2008-11-06T22:46:00.001-08:00

According to a piece in the NY Times which from what I can tell seems to be factual - insofar as anonymous sources can be verified - Sarah Palin did not know that Africa is a continent (country, check; continent? the deuce, you say) and could not name the three countries involved in NAFTA. I don't know if she thinks North America is only composed of America or America and Canada, and I realize she's way the hell up there in the forgotten Great White North, but dude: North American Free Trade Agreement. How hard is it to suss out who the signatories might be?

I really don't know which is the stronger emotion: relief to have dodged a bullet of Howlitzer proportions or shocked dismay that John McCain actually considered this woman a viable running mate (and presumably viable VP).

It's a train wreck in slow motion - albeit an incredible, rather gleeful one - watching the Republicans and McCain campaign team turn on each other. It's McCain vs. Palin - even if the two of them aren't publicly slugging it out, their aides are...anonymously, of course. It's only too wonderful the press is happy to oblige in airing all the dirty laundry, right down to the socks and $98 onesies, thus insuring us plebes front row seats to the snarkfest of a lifetime. It's not often the Pubbies turn on each other, but when they do, it's a thing of joy and beauty to behold. I just hope someone is taking thorough notes, because you KNOW Palin is not just going to melt away like the Wicked Witch of the West. Hubris seems to be her middle name, and if she's got any brain cells at all to rub together - and I suspect she might have at least 2 - she'll run for Congress in 2010 before making a bid for the White House herself, perhaps in 2012, but not until 2016, if she's got any sense at all. If I were her, I'd hedge my bets and get some actual national experience under my belt before I staged a run of my own. Until then, I'll be making some popcorn and pulling a chair up to my computer screen. Because reading all this muck while the two camps try to blame each other for Tuesday's colossal failure?

Priceless.

You win some. You lose more.

2008-11-05T00:24:00.000-08:00

As I write this, a black man has finally been elected President of the United States. It's a day for the record books, a fitting end to an election "season" that lasted way too long.

Unfortunately, also as I write this, 58.7% of precincts reporting have recorded the passage of Proposition 8 - the proposed amendment to the California state constitution to ensure discrimination against gay people - by 5%.

I want to cry.

Arguments I heard today in favor of Prop 8 included "I have no defense for voting for it, but my gut reaction is that it's just not right for people of the same sex to be able to get married," and the woman who told NPR she voted for it because if it failed, schools would "teach gay" to little kids who would grow up to be gay, and thus, we would suddenly find ourselves overwhelmed in a flood of gay people, as if homosexuality is the plague, and merely by talking about it, we would infect the entire nation with a virulent disease from which there was no respite. When it was pointed out to her that schools do not teach homosexuality and that parents have the right to opt-out of any sort of sex ed for their kids, she said she knew that, but she didn't want her children to hear that it was okay for gay people to be married, because then they might want to do it. I was pounding my steering wheel and shrieking at my radio in frustration. The ignorance and outright stupidity of that is untenable. Maybe if someone's breaking down your door to rape you at gunpoint and you just pretend they aren't there, they'll suddenly cease to exist and you can keep watching your "stories" without interruption or pain too, but I highly frigging doubt it. That, in and of itself, is the most moronic thing I have ever heard, but pile the whole "teach gay" thing on top of it, and I really wanted to just slap her. And as it turns out, I live in a state full of her. Millions of her. And they're allowed to get married and reproduce, propogating their ignorance and stupidity to the end of days, making sure that no one outside their safe little boxes has the right to live the same lives. But gay people are what we should all be afraid of.

Yeah. Right.

Let me Photoshop you. Pleeeeeze?!

2008-11-03T23:12:00.000-08:00

So, I looked at an old paystub, and I started out at the BCB at $8/hour. Then I got a raise to $8.25. Then Cali min. wage went up 50 cents, and my pay went to $8.75. Then for some bizarre reason, the BCB cut me a check this summer for a week's worth of vacation pay and the like, even though I hadn't worked there since the beginning of the year, and they paid me $9/hour for it. And my new paystub for last week? $9.25. I thought I'd gotten a 50 cent raise no one thought to mention to me, but then I saw the vacay pay for 9, and I don't know what to think. And on top of THAT, they took out money for my health insurance and dental from the last check, despite the fact I'm paying for COBRA for dental and don't have health insurance with them anymore, on accounta I went temporary.

I'm so confused. And wondering if I have to keep paying for COBRA and if I maybe have health insurance again, or if they're just taking money out, and if I try to use my old insurance card, I won't be able to...what UP with that? Curiouser and curiouser.

I need to go to bed, because it's already 11:26, and I have to get up at 5:30 for work in the a.m. It's nice only working 3 days a week, because by Day 3, I'm pretty exhausted from all the cumulative lack of sleep, but I wish I was working more. It was supposed to be 5 days.

When I finish tomorrow, I get to go cast my historic vote for the first black man running for president. :) I'd rather be voting for the first woman, but that's not because I like either one more, just all the hype around Obama really turns me off. I'm waiting for the man to walk on water and then turn the stuff into wine. I kinda won't be surprised if he turns out to be the anti-christ, they hype around him is so huge. I'm just saying.

I took Napoleon to the barkpark today, and it was adorable. :) He's such a cute little dog. So earnest. :) I started doing this thing someone told me about where you pick up your puppy and hold him against you so that he's on his back or halfway on his back, and you rub his belly and chest until he relaxes, and then after a few minutes, you turn him loose again. It teaches them that you are in charge and they are part of your pack. I call it puppy time, and Napoleon loves it. So does Razzle, but Napoleon just gets way into it. He fell asleep on Ty while they were having puppy time tonight. So adorable it just melts your whole heart. :) Razzle looks like he's grinning when he gets puppy time. Napoleon looks like all's right with the world.

And now, a picture of me I photoshopped the hell out of. I did it because someone else I know did it, and I wanted to see how good I was at it. It's based on the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty, namely the short film Dove did called Evolution, where they showed how the advertising/marketing industry distorts what women really look like in order to sell product.

This is what I started with, color corrected (the original was yellow because I shot it in low light):

This is what I turned it into. I removed blemishes, airbrushed, lifted, tucked, resized, changed color, and processed the everlovin' crap out of it. This one hasn't been processed much, but I had done all the other stuff, for sure. All I need to do is figure out how to get the skin smooth and lovely without the airbrushed look. There are actions for that, but so far I haven't found one I really like that does enough to smooth the skin without whacking everything else out too, with Gaussian blur. If you airbrush too much, you *have* to go the high key route, or it looks too painted.

And my personal favorites are these. Most people look awesome in high key, I have to say. These are actioned to death. I kinda think I might have skillz. I got lazy with the nostril being blurry (I ended up smudging it because liquify did really weird stuff to the shape of my nose). My nostrils are whack. The right one is waaaaay huge. It's freakish.

The lion's share of processing these was via a set of actions by Lakshal Perera, available here. I highly recommend them. :)

If you want me to PS you into glamour oblivion, please send me a picture of you (preferably 6x8 or 6x9 and around 100dpi). I would love the practice. It's fun to do, but I can only look at my own face for so long before it starts to look like a Picasso.

Happy voting!
Katie

Yummy Chunks of Goodness

2008-11-02T21:36:00.000-08:00

Curse you, Jack In the Box, and your mini churros of deep fried cinnamon-sugary goodness, too. I am powerless against you, and you KNEW I would be.

Brace yourselves for this, peeps: I am enjoying my job at the BCB.

Yes, I said I *am* enjoying it. I get up at 5:30a, which is not so enjoyable, but I only work from 7-11 (7-12, if I want to work late), and for the first 2 of those hours, there are no customers in the store for me to deal with. I get to do displays, which I really LIKE doing, and even when we open, there aren't many people in the store for the first hour or 2, so I mostly get to work uninterrupted. I freaking LOVE it. And?

I got a raise! :) 50 freaking cents, which is awesome. When I got my last raise, it was only a quarter. Then the minimum wage in California went up 50 cents, which meant I got a 50 cent bump last fall, and now another raise. Awesome awesomeness. It still doesn't pay great, but it's as much as unemployment is, and it's a whole dollar above minimum, and I'm enjoying the work, so I'm actually quite happy. If things were going well on the home front, I'd really be totally satisfied.

Unfortunately, things are not going so great there. Let's not talk about it. I'm really just trying to figure out how to get out of this mess I've created for myself, and floundering in the process. Let's just say both of us will be much happier when we are no longer living under one roof.

I had more, but I can't remember what. I'm happy to be voting Tuesday...no on Props 4, 6, 8, 10, 11, and 12. Yes on the others. No on the measures. Barack Obama, baby. Fingers crossed.

xo,
kd

I want my mom.

2008-10-28T01:33:00.000-07:00

I'm not really handling this death thing so well, frankly. Uncle John is the first of my family members not a grandparent to die. (Not counting my dad's side of the family, whom I haven't seen since like 4th grade, so they don't count.) It's disturbing. And freaking me out, because Uncle John was only like 3 years older than my mom, and I'm so not ready for my mom to die. And okay, he had cancer, but stuff like that runs in families, and my mom's dad, the Colonel, also died from cancer, and my gramma died from dementia. So my mom is not exactly batting a thousand in the health and longevity department, you know? I mean, yeah, Gramma lived to be like 88 years old, but seriously, Mom is gonna be 71 in January, and I used to think that was old, but when it's your own mother you're talking about, it's not that frigging old. I mean, my mom does not look 71, yo. It freaks me out to do the math and realize she's going to be turning that in a few months...which makes my dad 77, which is also pretty freakish. And okay, I don't talk to my mom all the time, and we're not especially close, but who the hell am I gonna ask for help when I need it, after she's gone? Who's going to answer all my tax questions??? And I know that sounds shallow, but it's really not, because it's really a metaphor for all that crap in life that you're supposed to know as a grown-up, and I don't know it. I don't know how to invest money or play the stock market, or where to put my money for the highest, yet still dependable, rate of return, and what the hell IRA-Roths are and how they work, or the machinations of 401K's, and I don't know how to buy real estate, and damn it, my mother is shelter. Your mother is the last freaking resort when life kicks you in the teeth and you got nothin' and not the slightest freaking idea what to do or how to do it. My mom provides me with solid advice when I'm too fucked up to think. What the hell am I going to do when she's not around to do that anymore??? I can't fucking deal with that. Seriously, it's freaking me the hell out in a major frigging way. I'm only 45 dudes. I mean, not even 45, and my mom is going to be 71, and what if something happens to her? I know you're supposed to have all this life experience and be able to suss this crap out by the time you're 45, but you know, I never really had a playing field, and I don't know all this crap. I'm still trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life and how to do it, and now I'm dealing with the fact that my mom might not be around very much longer to help me figure the shit out, and that is terrifying me.

How the hell do people do this? How did my mom do it? Was she this frigging terrified when she was my age? Did she totally have a spaz when her mom died? I'm not close to either of my brothers, and definitely not my dad, and while Mom only had Uncle John as far as the family closeness thing goes, at least she had him. I talk to my brothers *maybe* once a year, around Christmas. I can't ask them for advice or to help me figure shit out because they're lacking the same skill sets I am. Except that they've both at least purchased houses, so if I ever buy a house, I can ask them about that. But in all other matters, I'm pretty much up a creek, because my mom is the one with all the financial smarts and life experience in the family. I mean, my dad has that too, but he's coocoo for Coco Puffs and just can NOT be depended on at all for advice. I might not be close to my mom, per se, and she might not be the most dependable person in the world for emotional support, but she's generally there when the chips are down these days, and I really frigging need that. Especially the last several years AND the foreseeable future. This is really fucking with me, people. I'm a weeping, anxious mess.

Help.

kd

WTF?

2008-10-26T21:55:00.000-07:00

This is not good.

Is it really petty of me to be glad about this?

2008-10-26T19:32:00.000-07:00

So, last night at the bookstore, this man walks up to me at the desk and shoves a small stack of books at me and a list and informs me that he's headed off to a movie and here's the list of books he wants me to pull for him while he's gone, and when his movie is over, he'll pay for them.

Uh, no.

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him we don't do that when I decide instead that a) if I tell him we don't do that, he's going to pitch a snitty little fit, because that's the kind of egocentric asshat he clearly is, and b) it's easier to inform him that we're busy and understaffed, but we'll certainly try to get those for him. So that's what I do, knowing full well that there is not a chance in hell I'm going to even *look* at the list, let alone fetch a single item on it. And he lays a little more snotty, I-make-more-than-you-so-you-have-to-do-what-I-say-loser-smackdown on me and wants to know exactly where his books will be after I have fetched them and when he returns from his movie with his wife. So I set them in the cubby under the computer, point, and say right there. Or maybe up at the front. He dishes me some crap about how they better be right there, and then walks off with his wife as I say, "sure thing."

For the record, "sure thing" and "you got it" generally mean the opposite of what you think they mean, unless they're said with a smile. This was not said with a smile.

About 30 seconds after he left, the MOD comes over, and I point to the stack and list and tell him that I informed the man that we'd do it if we had time, to which my MOD, who is new to me there and clearly not a corporate team player, says to me with a completely expressionless face and no inflection whatsoever, "I don't think I'm going to have time to do that tonight." And I grin and say, "I *know* I'm not going to have time to do that tonight," and we both go our separate ways, leaving the books and list right where I put it. Which is right where it stayed, all the rest of the night. About 2 hours later, I was breaking the music person when Mr. High & Mighty returns with his wife, and I start smiling to myself in anticipation because it just makes me so happy to know his list has been ignored. The guy walks around through the store with his wife, continuing to browse, and then they finally meander up to the desk to get the books I am supposed to have found, only to discover that nothing has been found, and they take what they already chose for themselves and go home. And the meanest, pettiest part of me was really gleeful that he didn't get his books. And glad that he didn't give my other coworker crap about it, since I forgot to even tell her about the list, because we both had projects we were trying to get done, neither of which had anything to do with manning the desk.

And I know that's all small of me, and that it shouldn't make me so glad that he was disappointed, but damn it, I am not your personal shopper, and I really frigging hate when people do that, and most of all, I love seeing the self-perceived-mighty fallen because it seems to happen so rarely. At least in my life.

So, yeah.

I feel really weepy today (and yesterday), so either it's over my uncle, or my period is FINALLY going to start, or both. So today, I just took Razzle to the barkpark and hung out, and it was nice.

peace out,
katie

My Uncle John died.

2008-10-25T01:12:00.000-07:00

He had pancreatic cancer. Or prostate cancer. I'm pretty sure it was pancreatic. I'm too out of it to remember, right now. Apparently, he died Wednesday after spending the last week in a semi-comatose state. My family is so frigging dysfunctional that I'm the only one in the entire state no one thought to notify so that I could say goodbye. My mom was on the road conducting a seminar, and my phone number was somehow deleted from her Palm, so she had no way of contacting me, she said. I don't know why she didn't call my brother and ask for my number, but since it was her brother who died, I'm not going to give her shit for it. Especially since he was the one in her family she was closest to - the only one she really had a good and/or close relationship with - and she's lost him. That'd be pretty freaking tactless/crappy/narcissistic of me to bitch at her for not finding a way to reach me. I feel really badly for her. For her part, she sounds pretty angry at his significant other. I'm staying out of that part of things, you betcha.

I called Uncle John about 3 months ago. I was skimming through my cell phone contacts looking for something else, and when I got to his name in the list, I thought, you know, i haven't talked to him in a long time - I should call. I got to talk to him for maybe 10 minutes, at the end of which I told him I loved him, which I really don't think I'd ever done in my entire life. I might have, but I can't remember it. But I did then, and I'm glad I did, since it turns out that was the last time I spoke to him.

They're having a Halloween party next door. A really loud, 200+ people, cars lining the street (the entire length of which is a no parking zone, especially during red flag fire days, which we are in now) for blocks. It's been going strong since 9pm, and it's 1:30 now, with no end in sight. They're all 20something idiots who seem never to have had a drink in their lives.

I'm so not in the mood for it.

katie

Back in the Bookstore Again

2008-10-21T21:36:00.000-07:00

So, yesterday, the Big Chain Bookstore I worked for last year - the one that would not give me my job back when I finished my tv gig in June - called me up and asked me to please take a shift and added that they want to put me on the schedule again. Temporarily, of course, so that they won't have to give me benefits. That sucks, but I'm looking for a way to make some of my own money to prolong unemployment benefits until I can find a real job, so it's handy. I took the shift last night and pretty promptly remembered why I hated the job in the first place, when some idiot called to find out if the book he placed on hold over the weekend was actually on hold. Now, first, I hate when people do that. Did you put it on hold? Then it's on hold. But there's a new function where people can use the company website to put items on hold in the store, which is, frankly, the stupidest frigging thing any corporate suit in the history of corporate suits could have thought of - at least insofar as things which affect the company employees but matter not one whit to the corporate suits and their jobs go.

Let me tell you right now, folks: if you look up an object on a company website, and it tells you the store has fewer than 3 of that thing, do not expect it to actually be in the store. ESPECIALLY if the website tells you the store has 1 (ONE) in stock. Because trust me when I tell you: it ain't there.

Oh sure, in theory, it's there. But in theory, people who shoot actresses in the head and then confess having done so to their chauffeurs get convicted and sentenced. In theory, when you lie under oath, you get slapped with perjury and at least fined. In theory, when you get drunk, drive your car, and hit someone, the policeman who comes to the scene of the accident and can easily smell the alcohol on your breath from literally six feet away at least writes you a ticket. A lot of shit happens in theory, but not so much of that actually resembles real life. So if the website tells you there's one in stock, get off your lazy ass, walk over to the phone, dial the store, ask the nice clerk who answers it to verify that yes, that one item does actually exist in reality, and have that nice clerk put the thing on hold for you. Don't put it on hold via the website on Saturday, and then call me at 7pm Monday evening and be a dick to me while you ask me to check and see if the thing is on hold.

I love how people will call to find information that THEY need, and then they won't either shut up long enough for you to answer their questions, or shut up long enough to hear the questions you need to have answered before you can progress. He hung up on the manager who was helping him before me three times. By the end of my time with him, all I did was repeat over and over, "I don't know what you want me to tell you, sir." Seriously.

Aside from him, however, the night went pretty smoothly and well. And I'll probably be going back in the mornings, to help stock. 7 - 11a, which means that the first 2 hours, there won't be people in the store at all. Yay!

Anyway, I had more happier stuff to write about, but I got called away, and now it's 4:14am, and I need to sleep. Napoleon will be waking me up in 5 hours.

night all,
katie

A 4-Letter Word. :)

2008-10-21T19:18:00.000-07:00

Clever anti-Palin ad from MoveOn

2008-10-21T19:12:00.000-07:00

This ad is running in states where Palin is campaigning for McCain (like Nevada). It looks really neat on a television screen.

I love Jonny-C.

2008-10-21T18:54:00.000-07:00

I just want to say how much I admire my friend Jon. See, Jon - as the possibly 7 of you reading here know - is gay. And out of the closet. And I think that that's really brave. I was reading his blog, and he has a coupla Prop. 8 ads on it at the moment, and it occurred to me that it would be entire possible for him to get hate mail just because he's gay and dares blog about his life. And that's really frigging tragic. And horrible and disgusting. It sucks that there are people in this country who would do him harm just for the sex he loves and wants to marry. It sucks that Prop. 8 is on the ballot here - and other props just like it in other states - trying to curtail rights for gay people, as if by denying them rights, their very existence can be denied and they will cease to exist. It makes me angry that chicken***t people think they have the right to dictate the lives of others, not only about religion and prayer and marriage, but on such a basic level as love.

In addition, Jon is a very nice person. He doesn't vent his spleen at strangers or say crappy things to people. He doesn't say or do mean things. He's very helpful, and he always tries to be supportive of his friends, even when we do boneheaded stuff repeatedly. But he's healthy enough to know when to step back and let the boneheaded stuff run its course without dragging him down with it...and then to help you pick up the pieces when you realize what an idiot you were and that now you've got a whole lotta crap to pick up and put back in order. And he doesn't say "I told you so" when that happens, either. When you stand up for yourself, he's got your back, and he's always good with the pep talks. He's also very funny and plots really good games. And he likes to play games and doesn't think they're geeky, be it board, video, what have you. Except for headgames, which he's not into. I like that if you ask for his opinion, he gives it honestly without being brutal. He's a very tactful person. I really admire his tact, because lord knows when they were passin' out that talent, they just skipped over me, entirely. Not to mention patience and the incredibly useful ability of knowing when to shut the hell up, 2 other things I totally suck at. There's a lot to like and respect about Jon. I told his husband (husband!) Tom once that Jon is like me, if I were male and well-adjusted. I could do a lot worse than to be like Jon. I wish I were. :)

peace out,
katie

Hey, Flickr/Yahoo:

2008-10-18T02:59:00.000-07:00

You and your "open strategy" can kiss my ass.

I will not be renewing my pro membership. You and your crappy developers can suck it. Maybe when you lose a huge chunk of change with the exodus, you'll wake the fuck up.

Chapstick, anyone?

2008-10-16T20:27:00.000-07:00

The Santa Anas are blowin' here in sunny SoCal, and that means the dry. Dry air, dry skin, dry lips, dry hair. DRY. Painful, itching, burning, stinging dry. And as luck would have it, the chapstick I love and have managed to nurse through the last 3 years got down to the very last bit and then I forgot and left it sitting in the car in the heat, and it melted. So I went online to order more, and...

THEY DON'T MAKE IT ANYMORE! So my soul cried out with The Sound of Ultimate Suffering. You may have heard it. It was pretty tragic.

Because I am sensitive to a lot of the stuff they put in lip product. Carnuba Wax? Worst sore throat EVAR. And beeswax? Just makes my lips feel supercoated, tight, and sealed, which is just unpleasant. Actually, a lot of the stuff they put in lip product makes my throat hurt, which, frankly, precludes using a lot of stuff, because who wants to walk around with a sore throat all day? Carmex doesn't do that to me, but it *does* make my lips feel shellacked. The stuff I had that I loved was a sample someone sent me that never made my lips feel shellacked or my throat hurt. What it did do was make my lips feel a lot better. I had to reapply it more often than I would have preferred, but that's a small price to pay for soft, moist lips. Plus, it didn't taste weird or like food, which is a big plus in a chapstick, in my book. And, it was all natural.

So I went down to Whole Foods and stood in the beauty section, forlornly looking for either chapstick or someone to help me, neither of which were at all in evidence. So I asked a fellow shopper if she liked her chapstick, and she does (eco sensual balm, by peacekeeper), but tho' she got it at WF, she got it at a different one, and I couldn't find it there. :( So I ended up with two others, once I finally found the chapstick display: Shea Butter Vanilla Lip Balm by Mode de Vie ($5.50), and Pineapple Quench lip balm ($3.50)* by Alba.

* yes, that's right, $9 on chapstick. ::sigh::

The Alba brand has 3 different waxes in it, but I was desperate, so since none of them were carnuba wax, I tried it.

Meh.

Smells like a pineapple Life Saver, tastes lightly of bubble gum with a hint of pineapple. Goes on smooth, but still has enough of a shellacked feeling for me not to be crazy about it. It will do in a pinch, but I would prefer something else. Lasted for a decent chunk of time, though. Around 3 hours, even after eating and drinking right after I applied it.

Sadly, the Mode de Vie stuff will not do at all. It goes on super smooth and feels pretty good at first, but despite reading the ingredients over 2x in the store, I missed carnuba wax, second from last. Within 2 seconds of application, I had a sore throat, dry and scratchy at the back and near my esophagus and with the extra added bonus fun of the feeling of having tried to swallow a sticker which has now lodged in the left side of my throat. AND I feel like coughing. So definitely a no on the Mode de Vie, which would have been no anyway, because I just put it on 10 minutes ago, and my upper lip already feels tight and shellacked. No thank you.

I did a search for the PeaceKeeper stuff (no wax!) and found out GNC carries it. There's one near my house, so I'll try for that this weekend and let you know how it goes.

Actually, I make a skin & lip serum myself that's awesome, but since it's all oils and some glycerine, it doesn't stay for a long time. It works awesomely, but by the time you let your lips really chap, it's not enough in the wear department. It gives you awesomely soft lips, however. At least anywhere the skin hasn't died. Once the skin is actually so dry it's basically dead, it won't help you at all. I wear it under chapstick, and it helps combat the shellac feeling AND lends added moisturizing repair power.

Aside from that, the fires have finally died down, and we have cleanish air to breathe once more. I might even be able to breathe again soon. I really feel for people here like Em's hubby, who has asthma. I don't know how he's been managing the largest part of this week. Poor guy. :(

So um, that's it for me. I really wish I had fun, exciting stuff to report, but wow, is it boring since June. The fun events like Jon's wedding are awesome, but mostly it's really yowza in the lame department. Day to day, I mean. The Big Chain Bookstore offered me a seasonal position - 7-11am Tuesday - Saturday. I'm considering it, but only because it's not unemployment, and one of the reasons given for why I'm such a loser the other day is because omg, I'm taking unemployment. In addition, unemployment is going to run out a mere $4K from now, and if I don't have a job by then, I'm screwed. So yeah, I'm probably going to take the job, despite all the schedule upheaval it's going to cause for all the other occupants of my house. And on that note...

Peace out,
Katie

You can comment now.

2008-10-15T16:19:00.000-07:00

I changed the settings so that you don't have to have a frigging Google account to comment, now. Sorry - I didn't realize the default was that you had to. I am not going to force people to sign up for yet another frigging account requiring a password just to leave a comment. I hate that crap. So it's fixed now, and you can stick to The Man at will...though it would be nice to have your name, and if the spammers find a way around that pita word verification step, I will have to enable comment moderation.

xo,
katie

Introducing People I Dig, Starting with Cannon. :)

2008-10-15T16:17:00.000-07:00

Hey. I have decided that once a week or so (namely, whenever I remember I haven't done it in a while), I'm going to single out someone in my life to write about and tell you why I love them and am happy to know them. In no particular order, because there are lots of you, and I don't want to play favorites, and frankly, I think of stuff in a pretty haphazard fashion, on accounta it's all just a big pot of spaghetti with meatballs up there in my head, and really, you never know what you're gonna get a hold of when you dip your fork in there, and it's best just to take stuff as it comes and not really try to organize it. So first up in my thoughts today is my friend Cannon.

I totally adore Cannon. We've been friends for about 22 (going on 23) years, now, and he's one of the best, nicest people I've ever met in my life. He's kind and gentle and thoughtful. He doesn't talk smack about people, and he doesn't say mean, hateful, or hurtful things. He's married and has kids, and I bet he's an awesome husband and father who dotes on his family, as well (he lives 1400 miles away, so we don't see each other regularly anymore). When Cannon tosses his lot in with something, he does it all the way. He doesn't hang back halfway or any of the crap people do when they're doing something for other people that they don't really want to do. If he decides to do it, he does it, and he doesn't whine about it or keep an eye on the door. I'm not saying he walks around like it's the best thing in the world, but he makes the best of any situation, crappy or not. And he doesn't say "I told you so," or any of that stuff that doesn't make you feel any better when things go awry. He sees the best in you, he points out the best in you, and he always makes you feel like you're all right. He has a sense of humor that allows him to make very wry observations about things, generally at just the right moment to make you laugh at whatever situation it's aimed at, which is a serious gift. I really love him.

And that's my friend Cannon. :)

I made a hat!

2008-10-15T01:59:00.001-07:00

It's my first one, ever. :)

The pom pom is ridiculously thin and floppy (I should have used at least 2x as much thread), but I do not care. :) I made a hat!

I got nothin' else, really. Still can't find all my receipts for my taxes. My friend Dagmar came home sometime in the last week (I don't know when she left the message; I think over the weekend) to find 2 men robbing her house - with guns. She hightailed it outta there and apparently did not get shot, but I haven't spoken to her yet, so I don't know the particulars. I'm glad she didn't get shot, but I'm mad as hell some assholes figured a) they'd rob her house; b) they'd rob her house with guns; and c) they could have shot and killed her, and something bad would have gone down if she didn't think on her feet as fast as she does. She has a son and a fiance and friends, and we would have all been without her. That angers me. A lot.

later,
katie

ps. if you want a hat, you should let me know what colors you like. :) and i think this would look better in a solid color, or maybe with stripes, but not so much with the variegated yarn.

If it's smoky, it must be Southern California

2008-10-14T01:16:00.001-07:00

Just came in from walking Napoleon, and the air is full of smoke and liberally sprinkled with ash. I could see it in the beam of the flashlight. Smells really strongly, too. My allergies have been misery all day long, even inside with the doors and windows closed. I went down to the post office around 10:30, and just the drive there and back with the windows up made my throat hurt. Gotta love LA. Every year we go thru this, and every year, yahoo after yahoo parks in the fire lanes of our street and pitches lit cigarettes out their car windows. Lord must love an asshat.

This was the view north today:

I told Ty when he got home this afternoon that I hoped nobody in our 'hood had a mortgage he wanted to get out of, because whenever we hit wildfire season, there are always fires intentionally set, by either firebugs, morons, or people looking to cover up a crime and thinking the fire they set will get written off as natural or an accident. The mortgage situation being what it is these days, there are several houses in the hood that are up for sale and have been for forever. There are also several foreclosures. One of them was just midway down the block, and that guy was one of the people you hear about on the news who trashed the house when he moved out to screw the bank. I saw inside it one day driving by, and he did a fanfreakingtastic job of it, too. Not to mention all the crap he left inside. They moved out at least 3 large skids of trash and junk before they were able to repair all the damage. So I hope there are no more guys like that, thinking they'll torch the house to screw the bank, for at least 30 miles, because with all the trees and lots around full of dead brush, a fire would really rip through this neck of the woods pretty quickly, and we feed directly into Topanga Canyon from here. I can see it from my house.

Aside from that, I got nothing. It was all fire, all the time, today.

peace out,
katie

Hush

2008-10-12T16:26:00.000-07:00

Not so much the best day, yesterday. I missed Jonny-C's wedding reception because of it, too, which sucks. But I just wasn't in a party mood after all the family drama. :(

I also have a pounding frigging headache today that is not responding to drugs but IS getting a lot worse. I really need to lie down. I think it's the Santa Anas, which I so very much love, and the allergies and dehydration that go with 'em. My fingertips and palms are like sandpaper, my lips are ultrachapped, and every place else on me is covered with a fine white layer of dead skin...lovely image, ay?

I hope everyone's having an enjoyable Sunday. I shall be spending mine later (I think I need to lie down first and deal with this pain) looking for receipts for taxes. Saint Katie strikes again. I do so love me the procrastination.

peace out

Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue!

2008-10-10T16:12:00.000-07:00

I have just come from Jonny-C & Tom's wedding, and it was awesome! :) Even though it was at the courthouse, the judge really put in an effort to make it more of a wedding ceremony and not just some civil thing where you stand there and say "I do," trade rings, and go home. He did a short interview with them first, to find out how long they've known each other and been together and what their relationship is like, and then he read 1 Corinthians 13 ("love is patient, love is kind," starting with verse 4) and asked if they'd written their own vows. They hadn't, so he supplied some which were really pretty and very loving. Tom was reading his, got to a point and stopped and went, "Well this says woman." We all laughed, and the judge sheepishly said he hadn't gotten to retype them yet, that this was all still new to him. It was really cute, and we all just laughed, and Tom finished, and then Jon read his. It was all really nice and beautiful, and I think almost all of us were crying, including the marriage boys. :) Also, all of us had cameras or video cameras in our hands, and afterwards, we joked about how well and over-produced it was, because most of us also work in television. :) After the ceremony, the judge told the happy couple he wished them a happy marriage, and that if he saw them in divorce court any time in the next 40 years, he was sending them both to jail. :) He was a really nice justice, I have to say, and obviously happy to be presiding over marriages. :) We all went downstairs, and Marcella had remembered bird seed, so we formed a line and tossed it while we sang the wedding march and made the guys walk past us (poor men!), and then we all went to lunch. :) It was totally, totally awesome, and I cried, and I don't care. :)

I'm totally thrilled that I got to go today and be part of their joy. I even got to sign the marriage license as a witness!!! How awesome is THAT!?! I feel like I got to wear a pretty, pretty Cinderella dress and catch the bouquet. :) What a perfect, awesome day. We even have gorgeous weather. Tomorrow is the reception party, and I hope I get to go for a lot of it. With the puppies, one never knows, and I'm looking forward to going, but even if I can't, I got to go today, and that's what matters. Of all the weddings I've been to, this was, by far, the best and my favorite. :)

xo,
katie

Interesting Get Out the Vote ad

2008-10-09T16:50:00.000-07:00

Pretty unique and interesting ad for why you should vote, especially if you're in the coveted 18-30 voting bracket. From what I can figure, "Millennials" are those who were 18 at the time of the 2000 election.

Trickle Down

2008-10-09T00:28:00.000-07:00

Eight hundred, fifty billion dollars.

That's a lot of cash. I mean, it actually sounds like a lot, doesn't it? Billions. With a "B". $850 Billion must bail out a lot of crap, huh? You spread eight hundred and fifty Billion dollars around, you must be handing out a lotta Bandaids, right? That's the kinda moolah that shores up dozens of companies. I mean, it must, if it's supposed to keep our financial institutions solvent, and all. Right?

Weeeeeeelllll....

In point of fact, it's not really all that much money at all, when you're talking the kind of scale as the problem it's supposed to be solving. Oh, sure, it'd probably bail out every single idjit who bought a house he couldn't afford or bought several to "flip" or who neglected to read the fine print, or even those people who just didn't understand the documents they were signing and were so gullible they thought they could trust their agent, lender, and mortgage dealer. I'm willing to bet $850 Billion would more than bailout every person who sincerely needs bailing out in the housing market today. Which would pretty much shore up the whole damn crisis, since it has to do with all those little pieces of paper that don't mean crap on accounta how the people responsible for paying them don't actually have the money to pay them. So theoretically, if you paid the tab on all those little pieces of paper, the problem would be solved, or at least manageable to the point the government wouldn't have to go around buying up banks and investment bankers...though why the hell my tax dollars are being spent on shoring up investment bankers is way the frick beyond me, but I digress.

Let's put that $850 Billion in perspective, shall we? Because I mean, it sounds like a lot of money. It IS a lot of money. Unfortunately, it's nowhere near enough money. And here's a prime example why. Said example also happens to demonstrate how this bailout was really for the fatasses on Wall Street and the jerks in Washington who were about to watch their investments and cush, post-government jobs as board members, company presidents, and CEO's go up in smoke, NOT for the American citizens. Just in case you were laboring under the misconception that it was. For us.

About 2 weeks ago, the Treasury gave AIG a line of credit of up to $85 billion, which AIG has already burned through, and today demanded another $37 Billion. AFTER it spent half a million last week on a retreat for its top executives which included golf, mani-pedis, and facials at the St. Regis Resort in Monarch Beach (aka Dana Point), California.

$85 Billion. That's over a tenth of the total bailout. On one company. And that company has not bothered to curtail spending in the slightest and is now demanding another $37 Billion of the bailout money on top of what it has already squandered.

How far do you think that $850 Billion is going to go, now?

Two things spring to mind with this little news story.

1. I want my frigging money back, you AIG sonsabitches.
2. Save your money, kids. Stick it in your mattress or buy a small safe. It's going to get ugly. And it's going stay that way for a long, long time.

Peace out,
Katie

p.s. to all you corporate fat cats: this is the kind of behavior that pisses people off enough to break into your houses, jack you out of bed at pitchfork point, hang you from the lampposts, and burn your houses to the ground. you might want to think about that. no estate grounds in the world are going to keep you assholes safe from the proles if you continue to shovel crap down our throats while you eat caviar you bought with our money. your time is coming. i'm not advocating violence. i'm just sayin'.

Rotoscope THIS!

2008-10-08T02:29:00.000-07:00

Totally stolen from Jonny-C. :)

Wow. I'm more unique than I thought.

2008-10-07T15:16:00.000-07:00

There are only 47 Katie Doyles in the U.S. That's really surprising to me. If I go by my first name, I get even fewer:

HowManyOfMe.com

There are
14
people with my name in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

And holy Mary. If I go by my given surname? There's just me. How in the world is that possible? I mean, I know this cheesy site doesn't actually access every name in the U.S., they only have name data from the 1990 census (the last one with name data), but still. You'd think there'd be more than one. Wow. And sort of ironically, the last census I went by my given name was 1990. In 1995, I legally changed it.

Thanks to my friend KJ (Silver Parrot over there on the right) for the fun. :)

Goin' to the chapel...

2008-10-07T02:04:00.000-07:00

Or the JP, as the case may be. :) No, not me; Jonny C and his Sig-O Tom are tying the knot this Friday, and I am going to the ceremony. :) They're doing it now to beat the proposed amendment to the California state constitution, to ban gay marriage. I am adamantly opposed to that amendment, as I don't think any constitution should ever be amended to take away freedom. That's just stupid, crazy talk. But times being what they are, Jon & Tom aren't waiting around to see what happens, and I can't say I blame 'em. It's outrageous that other people even get to vote on whether or not they should be allowed to marry and share their lives together without other people and institutions getting in the way and mucking it up - nay, fucking with it. I think it's shameful that in 2008, a hospital can keep one from the other in case of an accident, or prevent the uninjured one from having a say in the injured one's care. That's not fair and equal treatment, no matter how you look at it. I have a friend who once told me he doesn't oppose gay civil unions, but he doesn't think gay people should be allowed to marry, as he has a hard time equating their relationship with his own, heterosexual relationship with kids. I said well then, he must not equate my own relationship, either, as I don't have kids, and he said well, no, not really, but the two relationships (mine and a gay couple's) aren't the same thing, because I could have kids if I wanted. To which I replied, no, actually, I'm not able to have kids, and it's bullshit that if I could squeeze a little rugrat out my cooch (bygones), that that would somehow mean that I was more entitled to marry than someone who couldn't do it missionary and end up with a bun in the oven. By that logic, I shouldn't be allowed to marry, either. Let's talk uniform standards, people. Either you're only allowed to marry if you can and do reproduce with the person you're marrying, or everyone is allowed to marry. No exceptions. I'm tired of this oppressive, right wing, fear-based crap. Acknowledge and move on, people. Acknowledge, and move the fuck ON.

But I digress. All I mean to say is that I'm really happy for my friends and glad I get to be there and be a part of their happiness on Friday. :)

My new blog, Literary Snark is up and running. There's not much snark to the first entry, because I really loved the book I just finished reading, The Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger. It's actually meant to be a community blog, so if you wanna read and review for it, sound off. All you have to be willing to do is write more than "it sucked" or "it rules." And recap any classic book you read, whether you hate it or not. I will be recapping Pride & Prejudice and The Portrait of Dorian Gray at some point, but since I will have to reread them both to do it, it'll be a while.

Now I gotta crash.

peace out,
katie

Sleeping Dogs, Part II

2008-10-05T14:56:00.001-07:00

Trying to sleep last night, I remembered that the last time I talked to that particular blast from the past was Texas-OU Weekend in 1990, when he'd called me up wasted around 2 or 3am to call me a slut because earlier that day or week, I'd been flirting with a guy when we met for lunch. I said how dare he call me at that hour, drunk, to read me for riot, fuck him, and don't call me again.

So um, not so much a surprise, then.

Sleeping dogs...

2008-10-05T01:32:00.000-07:00

Today, someone I used to be friends with a long time ago, that I sent an email to last week, just to say hey, I hope your life is going well, let's be friends again if you like, wrote me back that he never wanted to hear from me again. He said he was married and had kids, and that he needed to protect the people who relied on and loved him, not meddle around in the past. It was a pretty harsh email. I sat there kinda stunned, wondering what the hell I might have done to elicit such a response. I finally sent it to a mutual friend and asked her if I'd been a horrible person back then, and her response when she saw it was to ask me when we'd dated. And I was like, uh, never, and she said well, it sounded like a letter from a jilted lover, so we figured I must have meant something more to him than I thought and hurt him when we parted ways, which is why TB thought he must have written it, too. I mean, it was so cold, it made me cry. So I wrote back that look, that was 20 years ago, and I'm an adult now, and that whatever I'd done, I was deeply sorry to have offended him and goodbye, and he wrote back no ill will, farewell.

I guess every blast from the past isn't a good one. But that was a pretty cold, hard shock, I have to say. Lately I've been reconnecting with a lot of people from high school and the last 20 years, and it's been pretty good. Even people I didn't know all that well have tracked me down and said hi and how am I, etc. It's been by and large a good thing. I probably shouldn't be surprised that at least one person isn't all impressed with me, but we were friends for a long time, so wow. I even have a poem he wrote that I've kept for 20 years. It was in the office at work, and someone had stapled his picture in one of those big furry Russian hats with ear flaps to it. It really kinda sucks I'll never be able to look at that poem the same way again. I loved it; it's a really great poem. :(

Anyway, that was my last 24 hours. Napoleon is sick (again). :( Later.

peace out,
kd

Nu KLEE ur

2008-10-04T23:21:00.000-07:00

Jumping Jeebus on a frigging pogo stick. Yet another moron in the White House who can't pronounce nuclear.

Did anyone else watch the VP debate and notice that every single time Palin referenced nuclear power or weapons, she said "nucular?" And I just saw that during her acceptance speech at the Republican convention, her teleprompter (and the text the Pubbies released for consumption) actually read "new-clear" instead of nuclear every time the word was supposed to be used.

If this woman is the next Vice-President, I swear to you, I'll cry.

You can't make this stuff up.

2008-10-04T22:53:00.000-07:00

Seriously, Sarah? A witch hunter laid hands on you, so made God make you governor of Alaska. Really?

Apparently so. And she raved about it just this June. Here's Keith Olbmermann's story on Thomas Muthee and Sarah Palin singing his praises and helping her be governor by laying hands on her and telling God to make it happen. Oh - and how awesome it is that he didn't ask God to make it happen if it was what was best for all involved. No, he just said hey God, DO IT.

Obama catches crap cause his preacher talks up the race war in this country, but the press doesn't seem to give one whit about Sarah Palin's whacked out pastor and the fact that he travels the world running single women out of towns on rails because they're "witches." THAT, nobody cares about.

It's mindboggling. Here's part of his sermon and the whole laying on of hands thing, wherein Muthee orders God to "make a way" for Palin and to protect her from all those Alaskan witches who are apparently out for Palin's blood and defeat. If you want to skip to the whole laying on of hands thing, it's at 7:04, approximately.

I really don't want someone like this making decisions that affect my life and the lives of people around the world. She believes Iraq is a task set before us by God. It terrifies me that she could actually be the vice president, one bad accident or actuarial event away from the presidency.

Help me, Jesus.

Ha! Take THAT, Sarah Palin!

2008-10-04T19:34:00.000-07:00

Thanks to that email campaign I posted about (and emailed to all my friends) last week, Planned Parenthood has received donations totalling $763,350 to date, in Sarah Palin's name.

That's a lot of thank you cards arriving at McCain campaign headquarters. I so wish I could be a fly on the wall in that little corner of the world every day around mail time. :)

Death By Pedicure

2008-10-03T18:07:00.000-07:00

So, I took Napoleon to the vet today, for his bordatella vaccination which they forgot to give him last week, when he got his distemper combo booster. He's got a little respiratory thing going right now, though, so he couldn't have the vaccination and got a check-up instead. Since his nails had gotten pretty long and sharp, I figured you know, what the heck, get his nails trimmed, and also since we're here, let's get his anal glands expressed, because he's been having some issues with that, and frankly, you get spooged on once with anal gland fluid, you've really been spooged on all you ever wanna be with anal gland fluid. That stuff stinks. (excuse me: that substance is malodorous.)

So anyway, I let the techs know that, and after Napoleon's checkup, two of them descend upon us to take care of it. They go to clip his nails, and holy crap, you never heard such a fracas. I'm not kidding. There was wailing, howling, whining, barking, wriggling, squirming, struggling, yelping, spazzing, and full-on pissed off Wookie noises. I actually lost it laughing at one point, because seriously, you'd have thought we were torturing the poor guy to death. People were poking their heads into the room to see what the hell was going on. It was Armageddon in there, peeps, I'm not kidding. I could not believe the ire and woe. He was genuinely freaking the hell out. It took a big guy tech to hold him down, me to talk to him and pet his head, and the girl doing all the trimming and sanding, who did an excellent job, especially given all his black nails, and she didn't make him bleed once. After it was done, one of the techs poked her head in and was all, "He's got a lot to say." I'll second that.

After that was done, they went to do the gland expressing thing, and when I realized they were going to do it from the inside, I got pretty grim over it, because dude, if he was that aggro over a little pedicure, how the heck is he gonna take having a finger shoved up his butt (even if it is just a little ways). I mean, he has a meltdown over the little thermometer thingie when they try to put it in his ear. So the guy gloves up and lifts Napoleon's tail, and I've got the puppy by the harness, trying to act all cool and calm about it so he won't freak out again, and next thing I know, the tech is all, "Well, the left one was totally full, but the right one's empty, that should be fine, now." And I'm like, huh? And he's all, "we're done."

And Napoleon didn't issue a peep. He didn't even squirm or try to sit down. Go figure.

So yay, all done, and then I get the bill.

For office visit, $45. For the nail trim, $15. For the glands?

$29.

For something that took literally fewer than 10 seconds. Unlike the nail trimming, which took close to 20 minutes and cost half as much.

So the whole bill was $89, which, ouch. Not that it's THAT much, but I *am* unemployed, and what was started out as a $10 vaccination ended up costing almost $100, AND he still has to go back for the vaccination in a week or 2, when he's cold symptom-free.

Ah, pets.

So we came home, and he played outside for a while, and I took some pictures of him playing, and then we played with Ty and Razzle as Ty threw Razzle's ball for him, and then we came in and had chewies, and now he's sleeping. And I'm going to my friend Jennifer's for a few hours, for dinner. I *should* find all my tax stuff, but this is the first time I've been out of the house and had a conversation with a friend in weeks (like, 3 or 4 of 'em), so I'm going, even if I do feel totally guilty about it.

Hope you guys have a good weekend.

peace out,
katie

sing with me, now

2008-10-02T16:49:00.000-07:00

(to the tune of chitty chitty bang bang)

Oh, you, Awesome Razzle Dazzle,
Awesome Razzle Dazzle, I love you.
And my Awesome Razzle Dazzle,
Awesome Razzle Dazzle loves me too!
High, low, everywhere I go, on Razzle Dazzle I depend -
Bark, Bark, Awesome Razzle Dazzle,
My fine four-legged friend!
Bark, Bark, Awesome Razzle Dazzle,
My fine, four-legged, Razzle Dazzle friend!

i don't have one for napoleon yet.

but i will. :)