Archive for May, 2006

That’s right, I’m 25 and a half today. Man, I’m growing up fast! I was hoping to celebrate this very special day with a night of quarter shots and disco dancing, but instead I went home, sorted some mail, and passed out watching “Law and Order” before the sun went down. Now I’m awake, and will be for awhile. My circadian rhythm will be all fucked up once again, rendering me nearly useless all day tomorrow.

Happy twenty-five-and-a-halfth birthday to me!

Gus and I had a party to celebrate our move to New York. The t-shirts were a lovely surprise. The “f” was a controversial mystery. The copious amounts of alcohol solved everything.

All the photos are here, but I wanted to call special attention to Brian’s great ball of fire.

I went outside to use the phone and found not one, but two dead birds. It’s a lucky day!

They weren’t so close together at first. I had to do some arranging. Also, I found a hatched egg, the white thing placed between them. Two dead birds and an empty egg must mean something to someone somewhere.

I liked this particular bird, so I took some more shots.

I hope not to be accused of disrespecting the dead for this last one.

This would make a good poster for an anti-cannibalism campaign.

So maybe I was too quick to write that last blissful little blog post there. I guess yesterday was a good day, but things are certainly not better. Amidst the torrents of crap swirling around me, most of which I’ll admit is a product of my overactive and underproductive brain synapses, I got a ticket for running a stop sign just outside my office today. There’s nothing like getting barked at by a motorcycle cop to give you one more reason to pack up all your stuff and move to Manhattan.

I honestly wonder what goes through these people’s minds while they’re hollering like Neanderthals. Is it something that you can turn on and off, or are you just born like that? Maybe there’s a giant class of 21st century cavemen out there, none of whom I’ve ever known personally (except one, sort of), that fill the world’s need for cops, gym teachers, and security guards. Are you a big dude that likes to yell a lot for no reason? You’re hired!

How do these people have families?

“SWEET HEART. YOU WILL GO TO THE STORE AND PURCHASE 3 12-OUNCE CANS OF PEAS!!!”

How do they spend a night out?

LARGE POPCORN AND TWO MEDIUM COKES. YOU WILL GIVE ME EXTRA BUTTER!!!”

And most importantly, how’s the love life?

“YOU ARE SEXY. I WILL REMOVE YOUR CLOTHING NOW!!!”

What sucks about all this is that I couldn’t talk my way out of the ticket like the old days. I’m seriously slipping. I used to relish getting pulled over so I could practice my charming powers of persuasion under pressure. With this simple-minded soldier, I shouldn’t have even had to talk at all. But clearly, my eyelash-batting days are over. Good thing I’m moving to a place where no one gives a shit what you do with your eyelashes unless they plan to pound your face in.

I am further dismayed to report that this incident was the back-breaking straw that caused me to blatantly disregard one of my most hard-nosed, steadfast rules: Do not cry at work.

I cried at work.

Unfortunately, my tears were triggered after the cop had written the ticket. As he was writing the ticket, I tried to make light of the situation by calling a coworker and telling him to look out the window. I figured the camaraderie might help my spirits a bit. However, I received slightly more “camaraderie” than I was hoping for, as I learned that several more of my colleagues had joined my friend at the window.

Normally, I’d just continue goofing off, but I’m in a fragile state right now. I need to get the hell out of here.

Most days just kind of slip by… you do your thing, go home and do it some more, and let yourself fall into whatever pattern seems suitable based on the last time something big happened. And then there are days like today, when you talk to a lot of people you don’t normally talk to, say a lot of things you wouldn’t normally say, and through it all, feel somewhat hopeful, like you made some progress or something. As Ice Cube so eloquently stated, “Today was a good day. Shit.”

PlatKat: I just peed in my parents’ backyard. does that make it mine?
kentyman23: fuck yeah
kentyman23: congrats on your new backyard, btw
PlatKat: thank you!
PlatKat: it took a lot of hard work, but now its all mine!
kentyman23: if that backyard is yours, then I own a 14 year old girl
PlatKat: ha! that’s golden
kentyman23: like my shower
PlatKat: ohhhh!
kentyman23: ZING!

That’s right, I have two giant blue and purple bruises nearly covering the surface of both my knees. My annoyance upon receiving them turned to anger, and my anger turned to laughter, and my laughter turned to derangement. Fuck it–I’m wearing a skirt and working these beauties around town. Why hide your aberrations when you can use them to keep people guessing? Is Gus’s kind, demure personality just a facade for a brutally violent inner wife-beater? Did I get punched by a midget? Did I renew my subscription for Floggings Weekly, and receive the special “joints” issue? Did Tonya Harding grow jealous of my fame, beauty, and talent and decide to put a hit out on me? Too much PRAYING?! HAHAHAHAHA! You’ll never know where these nasty knee deformations came from, but be sure of one thing, you’ll be seeing a lot of them in the next four to six weeks.

Everyone should always show off their bruised knees!!

The only thing better than a big ol’ plate of sausage links, barbecue beans, taters ‘n slaw and all the condiments you can dump on them in the middle of the day is tasting them over and over for the rest of the afternoon through a series of earth-shattering belches.

It’s true. Texas barbecue is the gift that keeps on giving.

That’s right, as long as music exists, it will be blasting at full volume through my factory-standard Monsoon speakers, except for the left rear one that I blew out last year but never fixed, and I will be rocking out to it. My favorite rap hits from the 90s, slammin’ punk rock, diva house music… It doesn’t matter. Even if I only know half the words, I’m singing along, and probably dancing too. Bjork comes on, I’m mimmicking every word, pant, moan, and scream. Classic oldies? I’m totally croonin’. What if there are no words? Ha! I’ll make my own, or sing along with the guitar wah-wahs and kicking basslines. I don’t care if the top is down with all the windows open and I’m on a crowded highway in stopped traffic, my car is a fucking party. If my steering wheel could talk, it would cry from being drummed on all the time. I may look strange, but it’s more fun than turning on the radio just so you can ignore it and stare vacantly down the road waiting to get rolled by a semi. Learn how to listen to music, fuckers!

Everyone should always rock out while they’re driving in the car!!

That’s right, nothing’s colder than ice* and nothing’s better than a cold glass of skim milk if you’re in the mood to consume dairy products. Everyone knows that milk gets nasty-warm like five seconds after you take it out of the fridge, and warm milk is the most disgusting thing you can drink, unless you’re one of those people who likes to mix peanut butter, V8, jalepenos, Worcestershire sauce, white-out, dog vomit, and lighter fluid in a blender and dare your little brother to drink it. Not that I know anything about that; I don’t even have a brother. But I do have a need for ice-cold milk, and the only thing that makes it ice-cold is ice. You can’t complain about the ice watering it down, since you’ll drink it faster if it’s cold, and skim milk is practically water anyway. If you’re drinking 2% or whole milk, the melting ice is even better because it will dilute it so it will taste like skim, which is clearly the best of all milks. Yeah, I said it: milks.

Everyone should always put ice in their milk!!

*Actually, that’s not right. Anyone with a periodic table and a basic understanding of melting points knows that. But I guess the advertising folks at Dentyne weren’t crazy about the slogan, “Nothing that humans can consume without burning off their tastebuds is colder than ice.” Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Pun totally intended.