PlatKat.com

Merry Merry Merry Matchbox

2008-11-17T17:55:00.000-08:00

True, the cars depicted are actually Hot Wheels brand, but Hot Wheels parent company Mattel acquired the rights to Matchbox in 1996, so they're pretty much the same thing, and I can't think of a cutesy title linking Hot Wheels to Christmas.

Yeah, it's mostly pictures these days. If I'm not chained to a desk, I'm chained to a pretend-desk in my apartment, and if I'm not chained to either of those, I'm catching a glimpse of daytime and taking pictures of stuff.

I don't like that the Christmas season (a.k.a. pressure-shopping time period) begins earlier every year, but I liked seeing this tree. Instead of a cookie-cutter plastic pine with a few variations on a common-themed ornament hanging on it, it's a bunch of Matchbox cars, which were some of my favorite toys as a kid.

All the new ones are made of plastic now, but I had some really old ones made of metal. I'm not sure if they were my dad's or not, but I played with them as far back as I can remember. There were four, each of them one solid color with little difference in detailing: red, orange, green, and blue. The blue one looked like my dad's old Pontiac Lemans. Come to think of it, if you painted all those cars blue, they'd probably all look like my dad's old Pontiac Lemans.

His car ran okay but it looked like it was born old. I think it was a 60s model. He extended the life of the muffler by reattaching it with a soup can. I could still hear him coming home from a mile away, so if I was doing anything bad, I had a few minutes to wrap it up before he caught me.

I had some newer plastic cars too and a mat with roads and buildings painted on it to run the cars on. I don't remember if I had a specific story to it. I guess I didn't need one. I had cars and a road. That was enough.

Actually, that would be enough now. Is it too late to get my Camaro back?

Mistakes

2008-11-13T15:54:00.001-08:00

This week has been full of 'em. But I must address one glaring one here. Right here, on my site. A lack of proofreading on my part.

It's making me mad. It's making me mad because it has existed for over a week, and no one said anything and I didn't notice. I don't expect my three-person readership to catch all my mistakes, but I'm mad that I didn't catch it. And I'm madder still that I can't fix it until later tonight when I'm not behind an absurdly strong firewall. Well, maybe it's not that absurd. But this new one keeps me from using FTP and the old one didn't.

Oh well. I'll fix it when I fix it. But I still hate making mistakes.

Addendum: I fixed it.

Overheard at Six Arms Pub

2008-11-08T23:13:00.000-08:00

Miranda: What's your favorite mixed drink here?

Bartender: Bourbon. Neat.

Goodness Gracious Great Gumballs of Fire

2008-11-06T21:49:00.000-08:00

Another ostentatiously large, unnecessary item for my expanding list of wants (to be obtained when I'm rich and famous and have more money than sense).

As seen at the XXX Root Beer Drive-In:

PlatKat Publishing, At Your Service

2008-11-04T19:58:00.000-08:00

PlatKat Publishing is pleased to announce a new line of services that target a previously untapped market in the publishing industry. Beginning this month, we will offer assistance with the writing, editing, printing, and distribution of personalized suicide letters. PlatKat Publishing is committed to delivering the fastest, most poignant notices of death, tailored especially to your specific needs.

At PlatKat Publishing, we offer a wide selection of service packages to accomodate everyone from the cracked-out illiterate bum to the formally trained writer who just wants to get the word out. You're going to die anyway, so it is only reasonable to spare no expense as you complete your final earthly deed. But regardless of your budget, PlatKat Publishing has a package that's perfect for you.

PlatKat Publishing understands that writing is not everyone's strong suit. It could take weeks or even months for the average person to write a concise, momentous suicide letter. Why spend all that time crafting the perfect note when you could be making sure the knot on your noose is tied correctly or checking the train schedule one last time?

Most other publishers just say they offer a variety of services. They may be able to print your newsletter on high-gloss magazine stock or create an easily reproducible four-color brochure for your small business, but when it comes to the tough jobs, just how qualified are they? You shouldn't have to justify your passion for dying with complete strangers, nor should you have to hide behind excuses just to get the job done. Can your already crushed dignity afford to trust just any publisher to carry out your wishes at the time of your planned death?

You need PlatKat Publishing to ensure that your suicide letter is crafted and distributed for the ultimate impact. Sure, actions speak louder than words, but being suicidal, it's quite likely that you're very misunderstood. Make sure everyone knows why you took your own life, as well as who to blame, if applicable.

PlatKat Publishing puts the customer first, yet we know you don't have much of a choice when selecting suicide letter publishers. If you are unsatisfied with our services in any way, we will personally kill you ourselves. It's the PlatKat guarantee.

You have only one shot at the perfect suicide. Make sure your survivors understand the complete level of your worldly suffering with a custom suicide note from PlatKat Publishing. Let us help you terrorize the minds of your so-called "loved ones" until the day they die. No one on this earth may have loved you, but we'll make sure they never forget you.

It's your funeral. Make it special. Call PlatKat Publishing today.

Coming soon!
Dear John letters: Tell him you're not coming back like you mean it!
Ransom notes: Get the location and directions right the first time!
You're Adopted notices: It beats an orphanage, you ungrateful little shit!

Headphone HELL

2008-11-03T11:04:00.001-08:00

"My headphones... They saved my life." -Bjork, Post

MY headphones, however, are making my life a living hell. I'm not talking about just one pair. I'm referring to the 800 pairs I've had to use in the last few months because every single set on the market today either breaks after a few weeks or won't stay in my ears.

When I bought an iPod shuffle about a year ago, it came with headphones, like this. Life was good for awhile. In the past, I've found the standard iPod headphones to be perfectly fine for my purposes and I needn't worry about getting new ones. Then they broke.

Since then, it has been a never-ending quest to find the right cross-section of quality and usability. At first, I tried going for inexpensive. The cheap ones are usually no-frills and have a shorter cord. Unfortunately, even if I get lucky and they fit into my ears (which are apparently extremely unique and shaped like no other pair of ears the world has ever seen), they still end up breaking after three weeks.

So, it looks like I have to pay a little more if I want something longer-lasting. Okay, fine. I have a job. I commute on foot and by bus to that job, and so do some of the most obnoxious people on the planet. Headphones are important, and after all this BS, I'm willing to pay just about anything for a good pair.

Unfortunately once again, no matter how much I'm willing to shell out, there is no such thing as a normal pair of headphones. There are a bunch of fancy ones (with the highest end being Shure) that have different-size attachments that you can choose to fit your ear, like this. But you have to shove them deep into your ear canal to get them to stay, and I have a big problem with shoving random objects into the orifaces of my body. Just ask my gynecologist.

Some of the slightly more expensive pairs may have decent earbuds, but the cables retract into some stupid case like this. There are also ones with volume control, ones that hook over your ears, ones that make you look like an air-traffic controller, and ones that tard you out proper, like this.

Another anti-feature of many "good" headphones is the likeness of a light headset, where one earbud cable is longer than the other, like this. I guess they think you'll put the longer one over or behind your head, because as we all know, everyone's head is exactly the same size. How friggin' ghey is that?? How am I supposed to run or even walk anywhere with these stupid pieces of crap flying around?

As an aside, I found out this morning that the nice headphones I bought yesterday were "over the head" and pretty much the opposite of everything I was looking for. I ended up using my G1 during my run this morning, which has the same type of headphones I despise, but at least has the new CLP mix from Joe in it. Oh wait, no, it has 8 seconds of the CLP mix from Joe in it. So I ended up futzing around with my damn headset for an hour while listening to a Radio One Essential Mix from Adam Freeland, who is like the Earth, Wind, and Fire of techno. (Good stuff, but you know... safe.)

Because of the asymmetry of the headset, I couldn't get it to stay in any configuration, and it kept banging against my left tit for the duration of my run. I'm should invent a new epidemic involving chafing of the tit and sue T-Mobile for my pain and suffering.

Or I could just continue my search, and as a last resort, I could buy the original iPod headphones for $29, which I know I like. Because I haven't bent over enough lately. Goddammitall.

I LOVE HALLOWEEN!

2008-10-31T18:28:00.000-07:00

Today, I'm a real LOLcat:

Tonight, I might recycle my costume from last Halloween. If I manage to get out from behind the computer.

Last night, I saw this at the store and mistook him for a real person:

I giggled at my own silliness and walked toward it to get a closer look. It started cackling and moving its eyes, so I screamed rather audibly and jumped back.

Josh laughed rather audibly at my reaction. LOLjosh?

I Am Moderately Uncertain About My Life at This Time

2008-10-30T22:58:00.000-07:00

Was: I Hate My Life
Was Also: I Love My Life

I lost my Sidekick LX on Saturday. It's pretty much the worst thing that has happened to me since I left New York. When my friend and I discovered that it was missing, we called the Satellite, where we'd been all night (obviously) and every cab company incessantly. We tried calling the phone, of course, but it was either silenced or thrown into the street because of the obnoxious Junior Vasquez dance party ringtone.

I was worried also that my phone might not be lost or broken in the middle of the street, but stolen, which could be even worse than simply not having it. Some random (or not-so-random?) loser out there can now get in touch with every friend, relative, coworker, doctor, one-night stand, massage therapist, business contact, and total stranger I've ever had. He can read all my email from the past year, so he knows what I've been working on and how much I charge. He can log into my AIM account and talk to anyone as if he were me. He has my bank info, my doctor info, my juicy friend gossip. He has my random thoughts, shitty writing project ideas, shopping list, bike research, movie rentals...

In my frazzled state, I tried to convince myself that I'm really not that important or interesting, and it's unlikely that someone would go out of their way to take my phone and search it for valuable information. My friends consoled me, and I consoled myself, agreeing that it might turn up.

I spent the next day wallowing in my own misery, taking sleeping pills and suffering the consequences of my usual series of Saturday-night-bad-decision-making. Every now and then, I feel so ill that I am actually convinced that I may be on the brink of death and nothing short of a visit to the emergency room will curb my impending doom. I never end up going; it just feels like I should.

I was still feeling shaky when I woke up Monday morning. I rolled over, turned on a laptop to see what time it was, and began getting ready for work. Normally, the alarm feature on my phone would wake me, but that's gone.

As I got ready, I started thinking about the things I needed to do that week and wanted to make a to-do list. I very much enjoyed the notes feature on my phone for jotting down my intentions, but had to revert to my small spiral dinosaur notebook and hope that I would remember having made the list so I could try to accomplish some of its items before it became obsolete.

My phone also served as my non-exercise mp3 player, so I had to bring my shuffles to work with me. It's great for exercise, but I like having a display for my commute so I can choose specific songs. Also, I've been "reading" The Audacity of Hope on cd/mp3, which is not a shuffle-friendly activity.

So I silently cursed the free world for my whole hour-long commute, not having a book or anything to play with. I'm sure I saw a million cool things that I wanted to take a picture of, but my phone was also a camera, and it's not worth it to bring my 5-year-old brick of a digicam everywhere "just in case."

My phone also served as my clock, so I spent most of the day not knowing what time it was. I dug up my analog watch to wear on Tuesday, at which time I was promptly and rightly made fun of.

Every second I spent without my phone, I slipped further and further into the Dark Ages. I had purchased an actual book to read on my commute, I was using pen and paper to record everything (I have a terrible memory), I was wearing a watch. Next thing you know, I was going to be walking around carrying a parasol, wearing long Victorian dresses, and declaring, "I say!" every time someone made a ghastly remark.

This had to stop.

On Wednesday, I took the plunge. I accepted that there was no hope of recovering my lost phone and went into the depths of Hell (a T-Mobile store) in hopes to preserve what was left of my bleak and pathetic life. This was a moment I have always dreaded—being at the mercy of some shit-talking sales punk who feels smart because he can rattle off cell phone features and rob me blind at the same time. I hate those kids and every bone in their sniveling little bodies.

Thanks to a coworker and a nearly liquid lunch, I got a G1, the new Google phone that has been out for a week. The stars realigned, there was peace in the Middle East, and my life was good again.

My phone is fucking rad and you are all jealous of me. Here's why:

1. It's faster than the iPhone.

2. It's a tri-band GSM phone so I can use it when I go to Asia.

3. The camera is better than my actual digital camera (3.0 megapixel).

4. I can watch YouTube videos.

5. OMG TEH GOOGLES. Before I sort of lived on Gchat, and now I really live on Gchat. I use Gmail, I read Gdocs, I love Gmaps, I belong to Ggroups, and I am straight-up illin, G-Money... what?

However, some things about it suck:

1. There's no separate headphone jack, so I have to use the provided USB headphones.

2. The dialer interface is not as easy to use for simple operations like managing voice mail messages and adding contacts from your call log. I may just need to play with it some more.

3. It's a touch screen, and parts of it get touched that shouldn't be, which makes me feel like an irresponsible, jail-bound citizen.

4. The browser display isn't formatted, so I have to scroll sideways. I don't like doing that.

5. The bill will be a little higher than my Sidekick bill.

But still. Gchat.

I guess I should have expected there to be pros and cons. I'm still discovering more as time goes by. My biggest issue now is pulling my contact list off the Danger server. I don't have anyone's number right now unless they've called me, and even then, without a discernable area code, I don't know who's who.

At the moment, I'm just happy to have a phone again, and I'm thrilled it's not the busted Nokia I was using between Sidekicks for the better part of a year. But I'm also working for a living again, so there's that...

It's Been Awhile

2008-10-28T23:57:00.000-07:00

National Yell At Kat Month (October) is officially coming to a close. Although I was yelled at by many a great hater, I had some good times too. Here's my month (more or less) in the form of motivational posters:

My Presence at a Recent Obama Rally

2008-10-18T20:57:00.000-07:00

Looks like I'm a shoe-in for Vice President. Of the Internet.

Another Shooped Whoop

2008-10-16T17:49:00.000-07:00

With pizza! (Thanks, Steve! OM-NOM-NOM-NOM-NOM.)

Addendum: My name is embedded in this image twice. It was so brilliant, I didn't even notice.

Morning Milkshake

2008-10-14T09:19:00.000-07:00

I love how in the last decade (last three decades in Seattle), large coffee chains have built their brands around the idea that we all need a cup of fresh-brewed coffee in the morning, and it will taste even better if we don't have to make it ourselves. As a nation, we are entitled to a treat each morning, just for waking up, getting dressed, and heading into work.

Even if you don't like coffee, there's something for everyone, including borderline "coffee-inspired" frappuccinos and fancy flavored lattes. Cold or hot, these are basically high-end milkshakes, made with slightly better ingredients than you'll find at your local McDonalds. (And since McD's introduced their new line of iced coffees, the margin may have become even tighter.)

Out of all my options for cold stuff, I like Tully's the best. They don't hide behind some stupid made-up name. They admit they sell milkshakes, in several delicious flavors, which you can drink in the morning without feeling silly because you're ordering them from a coffee place. Instead of getting a clear plastic cup full of coffee-flavored ice shards, I get a nice, thick, tasty milkshake.

In conclusion, I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE. I DRINK IT UP.

Platty Katty's Bratty Patties

2008-10-09T10:26:00.000-07:00

Healthy, tasty food for self-centered bitches

Ingredients
Non-Stick Cooking Spray
Vegan Original Boca Burger Patty
Orowheat Country Buttermilk Bread
Cheddar Veggie Slices
Smart Balance Light Butter Spread
Heinz Tomato Ketchup

Equipment
Large Frying Pan
Spatula, Preferably from Spatula City
Butter Knife
Plate (Optional)

Other Stuff
Hunger
Solitude
An Inflated Sense of Self-Worth and Entitlement (Optional)

Prep Time
Somewhere between one and the number of minutes left in your lifetime. That is, however long it takes you to go to the store, get the stuff you need, and bring it back to your kitchen.

Cook Time
About 10 minutes if you focus on what you're doing instead of fucking around with a bunch of other junk.

Cooking Instructions
1. Set the stove to medium heat.

2. Cover the inside of the frying pan with non-stick cooking spray.

3. Wait for the little sizzling sounds that indicate the pan is at maximum temperature, and place a Boca Burger patty in the pan. If meat is a must, you could use a regular lean hamburger patty and retain partial nutritional value. However, using vegan products when possible is what makes it a Platty Katty Bratty Patty. It's true, Boca Burgers do not at ALL taste like regular hamburgers. Don't even try to compare them. Instead, you should just decide that you are eating something totally different, and it happens to contain an extra serving of vegetables that you probably wouldn't get otherwise.

4. Flip that shit!

5. When the patty is a darker shade of brown, set it aside and say, "I'll deal with you later."

6. Cover the inside of the frying pan with the chichi non-dairy butter I told you to get. Did I mention it's non-dairy? Yeah, many people are slightly lactose intolerant and don't even know it. I think I may be one of those people, since I break out with acne when I eat too much dairy. Plus, this butter is fortified with omega 3's and has half the fat of regular butter. The package says that the light version we're using is not ideal for frying, but it's okay to break the rules on this one because I said so.

7. While you wait for the butter to melt, spread a thin layer of butter on one side of each slice of bread. Seriously, make this layer thin or you'll have a big ol' sloppy mess on your hands. Kind of like sexual relations in high school.

8. Put each slice butter-side-down in the frying pan.

9. Place a slice of chichi non-dairy cheese on top of each slice of bread. Notice it has the look and texture of the American singles you're used to eating. I promise, once it's all done cooking, you won't be able to tell the difference.

10. Place the cooked patty on top of one of the slices of cheese. It should still be warm enough to melt it a little.

11. Place the other slice of bread on top of the patty, cheese-side down. Watch the magic happen.

12. Flip that shit!

13. Once the bread is golden brown and toasty to your liking, transfer the sandwich to a plate.

14. Pour a metric ton of ketchup onto your plate. Or, if you're like me, squeeze the ketchup directly onto the sandwich as you eat it. Ketchup is one of the best condiments ever invented and needs not be spared. In fact, Ronald Reagan liked it so much, he wanted to make it a staple in the vegetable food group. Luckily, the ingredients I have selected for this dish are low-cal and packed with nutrients, so you don't need to lie to yourself about your vegetable intake. Just eat the sandwich and like it.

Notes
As some of you know, I'm largely pro-health and vehemently anti-fast food. If I ever get to a point in life where compensation and resources aren't an issue, I'd like to make a career of traveling to schools in low-income areas where I could show families how they can save money with healthy alternatives to rush-dining. A large part of the project involves comparing the cost-per-serving of a meal cooked at home to the price of menu items from major chains.

I ran some approximations in my head as I walked to work this morning, and although I spared no expense when choosing the components of this particular sandwich, it's still less than the price of a McDonald's Big Mac. You could easily substitute regular white bread, low-fat American cheese, lean ground beef, etc. and cut that price in half without a huge increase in calories. I could go on about side and beverage substitutes (I don't usually eat sides when I eat at home, but they're a big part of my spiel due to their empty calories and popularity), but then I might as well draw up a business model and start preparing a presentation while I'm at it.

As the title implies, I'm somewhat of a brat and don't care about other people, so launching this idea will take some time.

Not Handicapped, but HandiCAPABLE

2008-10-08T11:47:00.000-07:00

...of causing a DEATH.

Left and Found

2008-10-06T12:27:00.000-07:00

I got a late start this morning, even later than usual. When I reached my bus stop, I discovered I had just missed it. They're supposed to run every 10 minutes, but it was the top of the hour when they start running a little further apart. I reluctantly sought cover in one of the often nasty-smelling bus shelters along Fourth Avenue and waited.

There, instead of street-bum-stank residue, I found three things: A can of Pepsi, a quarter, and a Camel cigarette.

They were stacked together, as if left for an intended recipient. I was surprised someone would do such a thing, knowing the amount of foot-traffic on Fourth Avenue on a Monday morning. Weren't they afraid the cigarette would get wet? Weren't they worried that some or all of the items might be stolen? Who left this stuff? Who was it for?

Maybe it was for no one. Maybe someone just left it there. Maybe they left it there for someone like me, who reached her bus stop just a bit too late and had to wait forever in the increasingly abhorrent Seattle weather.

No... I don't drink Pepsi, and I don't want to smoke a cigarette, and I don't need a quarter. I decided to practice the spirit of giving and contribute an item to the jackpot.

I added a condom.

Someone out there better have a really good day.

2008-10-03T14:50:00.000-07:00

More Tetris

2008-09-29T17:05:00.000-07:00

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.

Super-Awesome Texpat Sunday: Special Edition!

2008-09-28T23:21:00.000-07:00

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.

I Bet He Would Also Cut My Head Off and Eat It, If I Ever Needed Him To

2008-09-25T19:58:00.000-07:00

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.

My Whoop Has Been Shooped

2008-09-23T10:20:00.000-07:00

(Thank you, Fifi. It's shooptastic!)

Craigslist Find of the Day

2008-09-18T10:23:00.000-07:00

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.

Dear Kat: A Short Recollection of Losers Past

2008-09-17T22:23:00.001-07:00

Hello,

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, XXXXX@seattleweekly.com, to him or anyone else you know in that position.

Many thanks and all the best,
Laura

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.)

Sincerely,
Kat

What Would You Do Without the Internet?

2008-09-16T16:28:00.000-07:00

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.

The Joke Isn't Funny Anymore

2008-09-15T15:48:00.000-07:00

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?

No Rest for the Rough

2008-09-12T01:54:00.000-07:00

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.