Archive for September, 2008

Tetris is the best game ever invented by anyone ever. I play it all the time, to the point where I see shapes falling when I close my eyes. I move the pieces, clear lines, and play an endless, scoreless game in my head, and no one is the wiser.

There is also a very good electronic music group called Tetris. I heard them first on Soma FM, and found their music to be even more elusive and beautiful than the average Soma stuff.

Since everything about Tetris is fabulous, I’m thinking about changing my last name to Tetris. I don’t like my plain, boring last name, and I don’t like that when you do a search for me, I’m buried under a million other Kat Taylors who are more successful than I am. I think Katherine Anne Tetris has a nice ring to it, and I could still keep my acronymed initials of “K.A.T.” Even better, a unique last name would probably reduce the number of enormously retarded questions and comments I receive about my first name, which include but are not limited to the following:

Is your name really Kat?
This question makes me want to stab people. It’s a matter of respect to honor what people wish to call themselves, and pronounce it the way they do and spell it the way they do. Not everyone is going to have a name you’ve heard of. It makes people sound really ignorant when they can’t get past a three-letter name (which is a popular British, and now American, nickname).

What’s your real name?
This question also makes me stabby. It’s as if I’m being accused of lying. What a dumb thing to lie about! If I’m going to bother being dishonest, it’ll be for my personal gain. My initials spell Kat and it’s awesome. You don’t have to like it, but that’s how it is.

I know three other Kats.
Chances are, I know three other whatever-your-name-is. People by and large go the safe, unoriginal route when they name their kids. I usually have something more interesting to talk about.

Sure, Kat is a cute name. If you’re four.
Said by a 26-year-old man who I briefly dated when I was 19. If you’re prowling for maturity, why bother with a girl who hasn’t even reached drinking age? Wait, I know the answer to that. Seriously though, adults use nicknames all the time. Nicknames are nice because they’re short and easy to type, and suggest a comfortable familiarity among colleagues.

So! In conclusion, Katherine Anne Tetris will be my new name, and Kat will remain my nickname. I’ll change it when I return from Asia.

This time it was Joe’s birthday, so we went out. Decibel Festival was going on, which is like a smaller-scale SXSW for electronic music. One hundred percent my thing, which is why I almost didn’t go to any of it… because I hate good times and fun.

Joe made reservations for the Ambient Showcase at the Triple Door, a classy dinner theater downtown. So it was my good friend’s birthday, celebrated a 10-minute walk from my place to the tune my favorite kind of music. I’d need to be missing a limb or major organ to have an excuse not to go.

Watching ambient music is kind of tricky. You can’t dance to it. It’s somewhat inappropriate to yell. In fact, you’re pretty much forced to shut up and listen. (Unless you’re me and Josh, who have to bleet like zombie sheep every now and then, just to keep things rolling.) So while I love ambient music, I don’t seek out shows because I assume it’s best enjoyed somewhere I can get comfortable, meaning not most music venues. So the dinner theater was perfect. And even though I hadn’t heard of any of those guys (meaning they’re not on Soma FM), I thought the show was incredible.

He asked me what I would like done with my body after I die.

I said, “Burn it.”

He replied, “Okay, but can I use the corpse beforehand, while it’s still warm?”

I didn’t even have to ask him to fuck me post-mortem, he offered.

The last time I mentioned this idea to someone, he got mad.

(Thank you, Fifi. It’s shooptastic!)

In my everlasting search for inexpensive tickets to see the Beatles “Love” Cirque du Soleil show (non-existent), I took a shot in the dark and spent a moment perusing craiglist. Nothing useful of course, but I was surprised to come across this forthright posting.

4 great Beatles Love tickets! super cheap! “Fake” but, super cheap! – $140 (Las Vegas)

I have some fake tickets I want to sell for the beatles love show.

The tickets are in the perfect VIP section and will cost you only 1/5 of what i paid for the tickets. I will consider lowball offers!

I don’t want to post my phone number because I would rather not get a phone call when you get turned away at the door.

email me, so I can tell you how honest I am.

I will even tell you to call the box office to confirm the tickets, just like I told the other 20 people who bought copies of the same ticket with one good confirmation number on it.

If you are the first person to enter the theatre, then you will probably get in, the rest of you can email me with your complaints.

but at least they are priced really cheap, that’s all you really care about anyway..right?

so email me right away before the ink runs out in my printer and I am unable to reproduce anymore copies.

Your friend,
Just some guy on craigslist

Okay Some Guy on Craigslist, tell me why you cried posted this, and why you lied didn’t lie to me.


I’ve been working on a story about the WaMu firings and their financial problems and looking for anyone I can find who knows someone who was laid off. I came across your blog (which is a great read) post mentioning a roommate’s boyfriend (do I have that right?) who was laid off in December. If it would be possible to get in touch with him, even entirely off the record, it would be a helpful start. Please feel free to get in touch any time or pass on my contact information: XXX-XXX-XXXX,, to him or anyone else you know in that position.

Many thanks and all the best,

Hi Laura,

Unfortunately, the person you mention in your e-mail was not laid off. He was fired for being a complete jackass in every possible way. I believe the straw that broke the camel’s back was his lateness for a meeting, which is to be expected as he was up all night getting drunk at the Cha-Cha, setting off the smoke alarm in our loft, and forcing sex with my roommate. If you’d like to contact him, I suggest you check the alleys of Capitol Hill where he continues trying to convince people that he is Kurt Cobain.

I hope this helps! (I know it doesn’t, sorry.)


Serious Kat Gives Serious Answer

Well, first you must consider that my main breadwinning contract involves editing files that document the framework on which computers may remotely communicate with each other. In order to keep from going batshit insane and ending the contract early, I entertain myself by constantly refreshing several interesting websites a million times daily. Then you must also consider that my ability to carry two other clients, one of which is in Austin, Texas, solely depends on my ability to be accessible to them and their information set at any given time. As part of my workload, I maintain a website, which exists solely to give the organization an internet presence. Lastly, any extra-cirricular writing that I do is for such a narrow audience, consisting sometimes of just several members across the globe, that trying to raise capital to create even a regular newsletter wouldn’t be worth the trouble, let alone a valid publication.

So, if there were no internet, I wouldn’t be able to work. I’d have to resort to being a housewife.

Unfortunately, I tried that a couple years ago and I sucked at it. Without relying on a man for support and lacking any regular job skills that would make me an asset to a company, I’d have to go into business for myself and become a crack whore.

There’s really no middle ground here.

Whoever’s been spiking my cereal with Love Potion #9 can stop it.

I was walking to work, minding my own business (headphones on, etc.), when a guy approached me. He said he noticed my sunglasses and liked them, and told me he was a fashion photographer as a side job. This is sort of odd because we work at a technical company. Also, most people here don’t approach strangers on the street just for the hell of it.

I do some side projects too and didn’t mind having a chat, but I quickly learned that engaging this person was a bad idea. This guy was way too quick to touch my arm when I said something funny and walked WAY too close to me. He was overtly “hitting” on me and asked for my work alias (which is like asking for my phone number).

What the hell? I wasn’t in a trendy downtown club or something. I was just trying to go to work… dressed down and without makeup even. Stuff like this has been happening to me on my way to and from work way more often than I’d like, and I wish it would stop. You wouldn’t walk up to someone’s car and rap on their window to ask an idiotic question or spit some retarded game. Walking commuters deserve the same respect. Why are people so freakin’ intrusive?

Feeling hungover and rejected in an atypical way (long story), I ended up taking a nap yesterday from 6-8pm. I knew this would keep me up for a long time afterward and didn’t care. Not caring got me where I am today, and this was no time to start.

Eventually, I found myself drinking black coffee in a late-night diner, talking politics, pondering major milestones, looking dark and spooky, overhearing conversations about minor Duck Tales characters, and watching the unsuccessful meat market patronage drag in, wearing their drunkenness like badges of honor.

I needed this. I may be tenuously waxing nostalgic, but it reminded me of the nights in high school that sucked less than all the others… a sort of relieving non-event that improves my outlook by accident.