Sigh. It's 2008, and still.

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.

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. :(

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!

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.

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...

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

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.

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."

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)

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

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

Help.

Of Bullets Dodged

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.

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?!

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

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.

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?

This is not good.

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

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.

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

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. :)

Clever anti-Palin ad from MoveOn

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.

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:

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?

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.

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. :)

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!

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

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

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!

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

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

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!

Totally stolen from Jonny-C. :)

Wow. I'm more unique than I thought.

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...

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

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...

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

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.

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!

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

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

(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. :)

Of taxes, websites, anxiety, and pups. Roughly in that order.

I got nothing done today that I needed to. Taxes are due on October 15, and I called my mom to see if she'd do them for me (I'll pay her), and I'm so out of it, I didn't even realize they were due in 2 weeks. My mom informs me of that, and I'm all, I'll just get another extension, and she says there aren't any, and I'm like why not, and she points out it's OCTOBER.

How the hell did that happen?

I swear, it was just July yesterday.

I'm freaking out right now. I don't know why, exactly, but I'm depressed and anxious and overwhelmed. I feel like I'm slowly being crushed, and every other day, I have to fight off a feeling of such intense panic that I feel like I might actually snap and have a nervous breakdown.

Maybe it's just a combination of not getting anything done for the last 4 months, coupled with the fact I haven't had a freaking period since early April, and I'm PMS'g my ass off. I don't know. Whatever it is, I wish it would stop. A job would probably go a long way toward helping me get rid of it, I think. Alas.

I got a phone call last week asking me to design a website, but when I returned the call, I got voice mail, and though I've left 2 messages, I've gotten no response.

I *have* designed a website for Calli (Auntie Em) and I, though. It's something we've been talking about for quite a while (like somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 years), so it's nice to be taking steps in that direction. It's sort of a melding of things, from our original idea of making things to our idea of doing blogskins and the like, to finally incorporating our photography, which is something we both really love doing. And we'll probably also sell a few handcrafted items, as well. It's still in the beginning stages. I have to find gallery software that will work on our server. But you can take a look, if you like. That's what I worked on when I had time over the weekend. We're also doing a blog, with photoshop info and free textures and brushes and the like.

That's all I got. It's 3am and I need to crash. One of the pups will wake me up by 9, at the latest.

Here's a picture of the 2 of them. It's a composite I did for a layers tutorial today. Sorry it's so small. I refuse to sign Google/Blogger's bullshit TOS agreement wherein Google gets to do whatever the fuck it wants with my images. Fuck you, Google. This is not a totalitarian state, and *I* own my images. You can kiss my fat frigging ass. Y tu mama tambien, mo@#%&*$(#ers.

Sorry about that, but I really frigging hate Google. They had to work to earn that hatred, too, because I used to sing that company's praises to anyone who would listen. But whatever. Here are the pups. If you click the image, it will take you to the Flickr page for it, where you may view it in two larger sizes.



peace out,
katie