PlatKat.com

Okay, so I’m just kind of excited. I was supposed to go to Henderson County (Athens, TX) for Run-Off Election Day support. Normally, I love traveling, but I have a zillion things to do at the office this week and didn’t feel like driving over four hours each way just to watch people tabulate some votes. When I first heard of this impromptu arrangement, I put off booking travel and tried to pretend like this wasn’t happening.

After putting many a bug in many an ear, I have proved that the best way to handle an undesirable situation is pure and simple procrastination. My boss reassigned someone else to the county so I don’t have to go.

Although I would have found a way to make everything work, I’m relieved that I don’t have to worry about it anymore. I’ll still be helping out on Election Day, but I’ll be doing it here at the Help Desk where I can do my work, almost as if it were a normal, albeit long, day in the office.

I’ve been on a pretty fortunate streak lately. I’m even feeling pretty good about it continuing for awhile. Because Kat Taylor gets what she wants, bitches!!!

Today I got this random IM from some dude:

He: love the profile. i go to BC [whatever the hell that is] and the guys in my fraternity love your pic

Me: um, thanks

He: sure thanks for being so fuckin hot – theta sig loves you

Etc. Etc.

I’m not a stranger of the random IM, but this one struck me as odder than the rest, especially since I’ve been feeling particularly ugly lately. I actually logged in to my yahoo account to make sure my profile hadn’t been hacked and my picture replaced with that of some hot porn star. Funny that some frat dork and all his stupid friends are just sitting around creaming over some minutely attractive girl’s yahoo profile when they could be out torturing people and acting like douche bags in real life.

The next time I feel like crashing my car into a guard rail on I-35, throwing myself in front of train, jumping off the top floor of a high rise in Chicago, shooting myself in the side of the head (just above my right ear), hanging myself in the center of town, or overdosing on a sexily dangerous drug, I’ll refrain. Why? Because theta sig loves me, and that’s important to think about when seriously contemplating death.

…

Did you notice how I didn’t list slitting my wrists as an option in the above paragraph? That’s because if you’re gonna commit suicide, you should only do it once. If you slit your wrists, you’ll never die, you’ll just be in pain for a long time until someone finds your pathetic ass. And that’s not really dying, is it?

I just placed 19th in a NL tournament with 545 entrants. My feelings are bittersweet. On one hand, I am really proud of myself for setting aside several hours and mountains of mind-junk so I could concentrate on playing a good, focused game of cards. The pendulum swung fiercely throughout the game, but no matter how little I had, I played with confidence and made good decisions. The hand that pretty much killed me was pocket 8s UTG against pocket queens in late position. Had I not jumped up to go to the bathroom prior to folding the previous hand, I would’ve had more than a couple of seconds to think before raising in that crappy position. Had I returned from the bathroom any later, my hand would have been folded and I would have lived to see another day. So any situation other than exactly what happened would have been better. Oh well, the pocket change is nice.

Now listening to “I Started Something I Couldn’t Finish” by The Smiths.

1. Went to work with my top down. When I got out of my car, a bunch of my coworkers coming back from lunch were staring at me. I should mention that my shirt was on and I drive a convertible. I don’t think this is much to gawk at, but apparently enough people do for me to write about it.

2. Posted the results of my recent gyno visit on the refrigerator. Everything came out clean… that’s as good as an A+ in my book.

3. Wrote a letter to Google suggesting that they change the message, “So-and-so has invited you to join GoogleTalk” to “Stop being a douche and join GoogleTalk.” So far, I’ve had more success with the latter.

Why is it that people feel the need to point out when someone isn’t looking their best?

This morning I walked into a meeting and said hello. My boss turned around and said, “Hi, how are you?” I replied that I was fine and he replied, “Really? You look pretty tired and maybe a little sick.” Or something like that. Either way, I figured “Fine” could be taken at face value. Even if it was a lie (it wasn’t), what good does it do to draw out the fact that someone is sick and tired?

It’s true, I wasn’t looking particularly good. After my morning run, I had just enough time to shower, pull my hair back, and throw on a little mascara. I usually try to make a bit more of an effort, but I didn’t think I’d get called out for not doing so.

I don’t think most people appreciate how hard it is to wake up at the crack of dawn, run for an hour, shower, dry and style my hair, assemble the perfect outfit, and spend however long it takes a bumbling idiot like me to apply make-up. And THEN show up to work at a reasonable hour. Sorry folks, that just can’t happen every day.

Anyway, in response to my boss’s comment, I smiled and said, “Thank you!” with as much sugar as a frowny mod chick dressed in black head-to-toe can muster before 9:00 in the morning.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention earlier that in addition to my simple hairstyle and pittance of makeup, I was able to throw on some clothes. Maybe that’s where I went wrong…

Once upon a time, a crapload of Party Poker points were burning a hole in Gus’s account, so he decided to pick up some merch. We picked out some good books, a t-shirt or something, and… *gasp* …an iPod shuffle.

Even though both of us hate Apple for its lack of compatibility with anything and nonsensical appeal to the hipster sheep, we figured picking up a free Apple product wouldn’t turn us into hypocrites.

For a month, that stupid fucking iPod shuffle has sat on a shelf in its stupid little green box, untouched. Neither of us wants to be the one to open it, and I know I don’t want to be the first to use it. I don’t want to accidentally infest my computer with iTunes and end up having to undo all of its “organization” when I try to put songs on the damn thing.

We both understand that our hatred for Apple is silly, but at the same time, we can’t seem to get past the caveman approach of warily eyeing it every now and then in hopes it will go away. If we don’t at least try to use it within the next few months, I’ll take it to target practice and shoot at it a few times. The amount of pleasure I’d get from that is likely worth more than the base cost of manufacturing one of these things.