Years ago, I posted this gif here with the title “You and Me.” The gif disappeared, and then today, reappeared:

I was dating someone when I posted it, and thankfully the reeling relationship is so far gone I can’t even remember which of us was represented by the slapping penguin. If I had to title it again, I’d call it “Me vs. World.” And I’ll continue to provide no context, so when future-me reads my blog, she can indifferently pass over whatever obnoxious events prompted the posting of this picture.

I love Google Voice sometimes:

Hi Kat, This is seen as calling from Virginia Mason Medical Center From, Dr. Michael from office to let you know that you went ahead and sent the prescription for Fed has. So Sweet dreams to your Target Pharmacy.

Full trip report to be written… someday. Until then, Happy Thanksgiving / Kat’s Birthday Weekend!

Since it gets light unreasonably early, Dan and I woke around the same time and got coffee at the Rookery. The trendy coffee shop had some great snacks, and it becomes a restaurant at night.

Next on the agenda was trying to get my now-worthless $500 phone working on a different network at GCI. Soooo many settings altered, no smartness achieved. I settled for being able to text and make calls, so at least Dan and I could find each other.

We stopped by the office of our friend, Lance. Lance has a government job doing… something. So we waltzed into the state building with no one around to ask us who we are, what we’re doing there, etc. Different. (Good.)

Next, I had to drop Dan off at work by the docks because he drives bus tours full of people that waddle off of cruise ships. No really, almost all of them are fat. If they’re not fat, they’re loud and think that means they’re outgoing.

Dan instructed me to take his car, do whatever I wanted, and report back at 2. He had a comp for me to take the tour with his group. What I was going to do and see was vague to me, but that was probably just a trust issue on my part.

I drove nervously through downtown Juneau, praying I wouldn’t get lost. (Remember: No smart phone.) I ate some food at Dan’s house and rushed back to the dock… just in time to help Dan gas up and prep the bus because my phone didn’t automatically update to account for the 1-hour time difference. Gah!

Dan took us up to Glacier Gardens. There was a nice hiking trail with a slight incline. There were also nice golf carts to take our lazy asses up to the top of it and take in the views. The tour guides were Mormon missionaries. As I began tuning out a college student’s “blessed” elevator speech, a young girl turned around in her seat and asked me if I was a ghost.

Sure, kid. Boo.

I exchanged pleasantries with her family (her name was Alyssa), farted around in the tourist trap-I mean gift shop-at the trail head, and was then taken to a lookout point by Mendenhall Glacier. It looked dirty.

For dinner, we had spicy Indian food at Saffron, then went out for drinks at the Baranoff, the Triangle, and Rendezvous. The Baranoff reminds me a bit of Polar Bar in Seattle. It’s another nice bar under a nice hotel, but it has its own character and good bartenders to match.

The Triangle is like Quarter Lounge. ANYONE can run up in there and unleash the crazy. Not drunken-fratboy-crazy, but people-with-mental-problems-wanting-a-drink-crazy. It was going to be fun to see where I land on the spectrum.

Shit got real earlier this month, so I booked a trip to Alaska. I’d been saying I wanted to go to AK for the last 5 summers. My buddy Dan gave me an open invitation to come stay with him. It took a slap in the face both professionally and personally, but I decided whatever the TSA had in store for me would be worth getting the hell out of here. Sandwiched between the annual Pride Parade (FAB-u-loussss!) and a birthday, my 10-day trip begins here.

After watching one of my friends act like a jerk at the parade, I was really glad to be heading out. In an odd turn of events, another person responsible for my hasty departure drove me to the airport. (It was the least he could do.)

I checked my bag, got my freedom grope, and buckled into my first-class seat on Alaska Air. First-class tickets were about the same price as coach by the time I booked, so, you know…

I love first class. Everyone sits down and shuts the hell up. There are no children, no inconsiderate mouth-breathers who mistake this for a city bus, and no one touching me or anything around me.

I arrive at Juneau’s tiny airport and Dan is waiting for me next to his kayak-topped Scion. You never know when you may need a kayak, right?

Dan is a changed man. I met him in Sacramento 5 years ago when we were both doing shitty. Our jobs (or lack thereof) were insufferable as were the people in our lives. He was overweight, I was underweight. We’d both been betrayed. We were super-fun to drink with. While our story was sad, it would be much sadder if we both hadn’t left California shortly after our acquaintanceship.

So Dan is now a happy, energetic picture of health, which would become endearingly annoying during the trip. Despite his having some years on me, he darted all over the place with my haggard ass in tow. Of course, I’m thankful for every minute of it.

The first place he took me was a pub called the Hangar out by the waterfront. The building in which the Hangar resides is like a tiny Pike Place Market. There are a few little shops and eateries, but nothing fancy.

I had a few glasses of wine while I waited for twilight in my new home for 10 days.

There I was, eating breakfast, playing a game, minding my own business… when suddenly, I receive a message notification. It’s from kat! But oh shit, I’M kat! Why am I sending myself email at 7 in the morning? And why does it say this:

Acres of palm savanna contain mahogany, Bahamian pine, palmetto, maidenhair ferns and several endemic orchids. He also formed the Florida Memorial Gospel Choir with Benjamin Carroll. Congress from New Mexico Territory in 1884. (

I can only assume this is me in a parallel dimension, attempting to communicate with all other possible me’s in the entire universe, and this particular me just happens to be a poor writer who’s short on introductions and unable to provide any context whatsoever.

Just calling it spam would be too easy.

Hey Google+, platkat was a thing before you were old enough to suck on the tech industry’s teat. I say good day.

Heh, yeah, no.