Tuesday, June 11, 2013

flibbertigibbet


yesterday was the first day of my summer classes, which made me think of my FIRST first day of summer school right after my freshman year at the Y. 
i think my plan was to take a couple of generals at the salt lake center during the summer where/when they'd be less work and easier to pass, and my strategy must have worked because the only thing i remember from my biology class is my teacher pointing out that i have adherent earlobes. which is a recessive gene (when you're 18 and your entire class squints at your earlobes, it makes you very self conscious). (are punnett squares still a thing?)
also, with abiding fondness, i remember hot biology boy.
he came in late the first day of class and, in my mind, took 5 minutes to get to his seat a couple of rows behind me because he was walking in slow motion. (perhaps that's why he was late?)
he was beautiful in that awkward, millennial, heath ledger in "ten things i hate about you" way where you ask yourself, "is that a shirt with embroidery on it?" and then you say, "who am i to judge? i'm wearing a belly chain and i have 2 jennifer lopez songs on a mix cd."
 
after not so subtly turning around to stare at him about 37 times, class ended and i decided to pull out my best move- a move i still use to this day- i stared at the ground and shuffled past him.
as i did, he said, "hey." 
i, flirtatiously, jumped and looked up with a confused expression. 
he smiled. 
i made a gurgling noise and smiled back, while continuing to walk past him, daring to look him in the eye and imagine a time, long ago, when the delicate tangles of his hair covered the emptiness of my h-- 
and i walked into a wall.
ya. when i hit the end of my row, i did not turn to walk to the door. i kept walking. into a wall.
and i like to think i did what anyone would do next. i looked at the wall, then at the ground, sighed, and shuffled out of the room.
 
but funny story. i walked down to the computer lab to start planning my new life on a different planet (because in space, no one can hear you scream) and hot biology boy followed me, introduced himself and asked for my phone number. 
 
and then we went out a couple of times. 
one night, we ended up at a ginormous luau and hot biology boy wound up winning a limbo contest. 
another night we wound up at a "look out" point (where all we did was look out because i was oblivious and it wasn't until years later than i understood what was going on there) and there were literally fireworks going off in the distance.
 
after that, i started blowing him off and eventually he stopped calling, and then class ended and we went our separate ways.
ya, i know, the ending kind of fizzles.

"but why, kat? why?" 
why did i blow him off?
"yes, why??"
 
because i didn't know his name. i was too frazzled after the whole wall thing and, after two dates, i had no idea how broach the topic. at the time, blowing him off seemed like the most rational way to handle the situation.



nothing like that like happened during my classes yesterday.



unimportant tangents i also thought about yesterday during class:
the worst millennial fashion? the two piece prom dress. 
worst song? the thong song

other than that, i regret nothing.

Friday, June 07, 2013

come on, son!

last week, there was a guy on the radio whom i named "inferior stefon."
he was like this!

...except not.

he's some sort of local, "night life" columnist and i was super excited to hear him promote the downtown happenings for the weekend, but it wound up being the biggest letdown of my life.
(hyperbole? you decide)
and sure, part of the problem is his source material, because how many "human roombas" and "football jellyfish" can you find in salt lake city?
and sure, part of the problem is that stefon is not a real person.
but come on, son! part of the problem is you. you need to step up your game.

naturally, this got me thinking whom i would be if i just tried a little harder.
and the first thing that came to mind was andy rooney.

that's not weird, right?

Wednesday, June 05, 2013

thin but wiry



i've been taking advantage of my three whole weeks of "no class!" weeknights (not to be confused with "low class!" weeknights (because that's EVERY weeknight! (... i don't know))) and going to my favorite weightlifting class at the gym. i'm super buff now. i can totally lift moderate levels of weight for my gender/age/body type classification like you wouldn't believe!

ANYways. my gym started a new class called "body combat" and if you know me and my love of sitting on the couch and watching taebo, you know that this is my type of class. i found out that it starts right after my weightlifting class, so i decided to give it a whirl.
and i loved it.
and i will tell you why.
the reasons being threefold:
1. it was a good workout. beating the air wildly with my tiny, petulant fists is a solid workout.
2. everybody in the class takes it very seriously. they act like ll cool j's mama personally called them up and told them to knock the air out. the teacher encourages the intensity by wearing boxing gloves (to, i guess, protect his hands from the air as he beats it wildly) and yelling at us to keep our guard up (lest the air punch us in our heads) and put on our angry faces (in response, i always instinctively look at myself in the mirror where i discover that i am, in fact, wearing a big, goofy grin).
3. there are a few "moves" that are amazing.
i must describe my favorite moves to you in detail. 
my favorite moves being threefold: 
there's one where you sweep the leg of the air. and the teacher always yells out "sweep the leg, johnny!" (i am the only person in the class who gets the reference) and i am delighted. but also conflicted because i want to beat the air with honor and not have to resort to cheap shots.
there is also a move where you kick the air in the stomach and then kick the air's sidekick (also air) in the knee caps and then pretend to jump over each of their slumped, unconscious bodies. the only thing i can think to liken it to is a move the rat king makes in "the nutcracker" (coincidentally, that would make a really good name for another move in class).



i am really freaking good at this move. like, better than anyone in the class. probably better than anyone in the world (watch your back, rat king!). because if there is any move that i would actually use in a real life fight, it would be to leap over people and run away. that is my move. that is my jam. (sadly, we have yet to use my other move, "the windmill," in class)
but my most favorite of all the moves that we move, is a little thing called "street brawl." in essence, you push the air to the ground and hold it down with one hand while you wail on it with your other. not even "johnny" would've done this to daniel-san (that is lie. i was testing you and you failed. the cobra kai dojo believes the enemy deserves no mercy).
i like to think that some gym trainer was walking at night in compton and saw an actual street brawl and thought, "wow. that looks like an awesome workout."
alternatively, i also like to think that some gym trainer was walking at night in compton and got pinned to the ground and wailed on and thought, "wow. your arms look amazing."

i might start referring to this class as "fight club" because, having written all this out, i'm pretty sure the only thing that could make this more awesome is if i were to start thinking i was beating up the brad pitt version of myself.
and also i could start making soap.
because that's a part of "fight club," right? they make soap?
ya... i've only seen the cleanflicks version of "fight club" so i don't really know what it's about. the edited version was only, like, 55 minutes long.

Tuesday, June 04, 2013


i read this article the other day on the "dunning-kruger effect."
essentially, it's the idea that when people are unskilled in a certain area, they lack the very skills required to see that they're unskilled.
or, as my dear friend bill mcneal once said, "it is the wise man who knows there is much he does not know." (matthew, nodding, "... i know.")
i would say that the dunning-kruger effect (sometimes, in my mind, i call it the "dunder-mifflin effect") has been kicking my trash the last 4 to 5 (to 9 (to 381)) months.
and i will tell you why.
i decided to take classes at the local community college to become a paralegal. the process of deciding to do it was super random. so random, in fact, that i don't actually remember the impetus for doing it. however, around august, i made up my mind that this was something I wanted to do. i knew i wanted to do it, but- full disclosure (that in no way makes me look sympathetic)- was incredibly embarrassed to be taking classes at a college. i was embarrassed to tell my friends and the people i work with that i was spending time and money on community college paralegal classes because i felt like they would look at me with knit brow and make some sort of judgmental "...hu." noise and then ask me what i'm doing with my life when i could be doing so much more with my brains and my height and my thick, hipster bangs!!
so my first semester i kept things pretty quiet and took one, ridiculously easy class where i didn't really learn anything and sometimes the teacher would forget to even come and i kind of just went about my business.
then the worst thing possible happened. last semester... i had to put actual effort into my classes. i had to, like, learn stuff.
i even got things wrong.
tragedy.
because it turns out that watching "boston legal" does not instill you with actual knowledge of the 14th amendment.
um, also, the word "amendment" is NOT spelled "ammendment." no matter how many years you've spent spelling it that way.

to sum up, it was humbling. i got a glimpse of just how little i know and i did not care for it.
 
if you ask me, the dunning-kruger effect (sometimes, in my mind, i call it the "diane-kruger" effect) is maddening because confidence tends to stem either from expertise or absolute incompetence and, no matter which end of the spectrum you're on, you assume your confidence is stemming from competence. so you never really know if you're an idiot.
and then there's the tragic middle. the quasi-competent. who know just enough to doubt their abilities. when people receive training in an area, but aren't necessarily experts, they tend to underestimate their skills and defer to the people with confidence (whether competent or not), assuming they're equally qualified, if not more so.
maddening.
you can interpret this any way you'd like, or apply it to any subject, but here's how i'm pacifying myself: 
the idea of not knowing my own incompetence completely freaks me out, but, at the same time, the dunning-kruger effect (sometimes, in my mind, i call it the "doogie-howzer" effect (not really, i just wanted a third parenthetical)) weirdly reassures me about my own self doubt  because it shows i at least know enough to know i don't know it all.
and it really makes me feel better about the bigger things i'm not completely confident about. i worry a lot about my emotional maturity and social skills. frankly, i worry that i'm creepy. and annoying. so it's soothing to think that even doubting my social abilities might be proof that i'm at least somewhat socially and emotionally aware. 
sigh. 
i hope. 

Saturday, October 13, 2012

boo

a couple of weeks ago, i went to a football game with a friend and her family, including her 16 year old niece who quite obviously thinks i'm lame. which is totally fine because i am kind of lame and also she's 16, so the eye rolling and the cringing kind of just comes with the territory. i was thinking about how hard it is to be a teenage girl- how much time you spend worrying about embarrassing yourself, how HUGE the little embarrassments feel and how generally inhibited you have to become just to feel like you can survive. i really don't feel like i was ever myself with my friends until the summer after my freshman year of college because i was so terrified that they wouldn't like me. 
and i was a pretty well-adjusted kid.
as an adult, i have the opposite problem. i live alone and tend to go unchecked in a lot of ways and the challenge is to stay on the right side of social norms.
here, i'll give you an example.
halloween is coming and i freaking love halloween. i love dressing up and going to any and every party. i don't care who's throwing it or who's invited, i am in. so this moment comes when i'm picking out my costume and i'm like, "oh my gosh! i'm going to get my dog a costume! i'm going to get him that 'star wars' at-at costume because that would be hilarious! AND then i could dress up as princess leia! OR!! you know what would be so funny? is if i dressed up like ziggy and then i dressed up him like me!... wait..."
i don't want to be the teen girl who immediately puts the kibosh on the first thought because it's like so totally lame and i can't believe i even thought about dressing up my dog for halloween because people will just think i'm like so totally lame! BUT i also now have to guard myself against fully letting loose, because frankly the end of that rainbow is me on some sort of freaky, hoarders reality show ("these are my 79 dogs all named after a child i never had!").

thank you for your time.

Tuesday, October 02, 2012

the other day i was running late, as i am prone to do, and the traffic lights conspired against me despite how wildly i gesticulated at them.
so after hitting, like, my 300th red light in a row, i let out an exasperated, "gaa!" and veered to turn right. only there was a guy on the corner who stepped into the intersection in front of me.

so i hit him.

just kidding. i hit my brakes and let out another "gaa!" which made the guy look at me like i was ridiculous.
which i was.
so i flashed him the peace sign because that's what i do when i'm in my car and i want people to forgive me for being ridiculous.
but that just made the guy stop in front of my car and glare at me as though he thought i was doing a sarcastic peace sign. which i most definitely was not. my peace signs are always in earnest.
so then i gestured at him to cross. kind of a, "no, seriously, sir. it's your right of way and i realize that. proceed." kind of a gesture.
but that just made him start waving his arms at me. like he thought i was sarcastically gesturing for him to cross. which i have been known to do, so... you know... what can you do?
so i rolled down my window and said, "sorry, i'm in a hurry and i keep hitting red lights and i got frustrated. you're fine, you're golden. sorry."
which made him walk up to my window, put his hands on my door, and shove his head inside my car.
"i'm olden?"
"no. golden. i said you're golden."
he shoved his head farther in and stared at me for a few seconds, "you're kind of hot."
"..."
"and your teeth are really white."
"..."
"i like your dog."
so i did the only thing i could do.

i made out with him.

just kidding. i maintained eye contact with and slowly let my foot off the brake, rolling my way to freedom.

as i pulled away he shouted, "i'll call you!"


this is basically a story about why you shouldn't get frustrated at a red light.

Monday, September 24, 2012

now it's back to "kat: in the hat," which is ironic because i never wear hats

so, it turns out my grandfather did not have a secret family in germany.

i know i should be happy about it, but all i can think about is how the potentially greatest chapter of my currently unwritten memoirs will now never be written.

and how the title of my memoirs, "kat: nazi hunter," has lost the touch of irony that was sure to make it a best seller.

Friday, September 21, 2012

okay. it's late enough that i can go to bed now. see you in 2013!

sixish+ months ago, i was watching "60 minutes" with my dad and there was a story about people who don't have the facial recognition part of their brain so they don't have the ability to recognize anybody. ever. not even their children.
it was sad.
they quizzed the non-recognizers by holding up pictures of famous people like martin luther king, jr. and george clooney, etc. and the poor, non-recognizers knew not a one.
and neither did my dad (which made me feel slightly more forgiving towards him regarding the time i had a five minute conversation with him at the bank and it turned out he didn't know who i was (but (silver lining) he was still very nice to me)). like, seriously. he didn't know anybody. and every time they held up a picture of a black guy, he would guess jesse jackson, which was never the right answer.
THEN they moved on to the people on the opposite side of the spectrum, a super recognizer, who remembers every face.
it was also kind of sad.
because when they quizzed the super recognizer by holding up childhood pictures of obscure celebrities, i was shouting out the names just as quickly and readily as the freak on "60 minutes."

this is when i had an epiphany.

my whole freaking life, i have assumed that i am completely forgettable because i would run into people from elementary school or an old job or the bank i used to go to and i'd go up to them assuming they'd also remember me because, hey, it's totally obvious, right? and then, frankly, they wouldn't remember me at all and it would be awkward and i'd walk away offended.
but it finally dawned on me that it's not that i'm more forgettable than everyone else, it's that i'm kind of a freak when it comes to faces.
so ever since then, i've started to notice how kind of not normal it is that, at the gym the other day, i recognized a girl i talked to once, four months ago, at church.
and the woman i saw at the post office last week who i recognized because she dropped off my company's paychecks once last year.
and the guy i saw at the grocery store and recognized because a few days before i noticed him eating at einstein's bagels while i was picking up some lunch for my boss.
and the woman at the pet store who was one of my mom's best friends in high school.
oh, and you know the guy who was in the mormon "pride and prejudice?" that movie that i saw 1.5 times almost 10 years ago? he's in an episode of "west wing" for about 3 seconds. i would bet you money on that.
and the guy who's an extra in "gilmore girls?" you know the one. the extra who's always bussing tables at lukes. oh, you've never noticed him? well, don't worry, he's also an extra in "alias" and some other tv show that i can't think of but i know he's a business man of some sort.

there are three things i want you to think about now:
1. 6 months ago i thought this was normal. i would've been a little bit hurt when the paycheck delivery woman didn't recognize me too.
2. if you ever run into me in person and i don't recognize you, be seriously offended. or come up and say "hi" because i'm probably just pretending not to recognize you. that's what i do now.
3. if you can think of a way to make money from this, i'm open to it.

that is all.

p.s. i'm also weirdly good at unscrambling words.
p.p.s. we've all got a little rain man in us...
ew. i just pictured a tiny dustin hoffman in my stomach.

it's too early to go to bed and i just can't make myself work any more tonight... so hello, blog that i haven't seen in over a year.

the main reason i try not to do anything ironically is that i'm forgetful and if i do something often enough, i forget i'm doing it ironically and it becomes an actual thing.
forgotten irony is the reason i say, "keepin' it real."
it's why i make a pouty, fish face when i dance.
and, oh gosh, it's why i dance the way i do. the running man? why am i always doing the running man??
it's the reason for the nonstop dialogue i provide for animals. i now have full-on, two-sided conversations with ziggy. it's one mother-issue away from being norman bates-ian.
it's to blame for the hair feathers i wear.
and my neon everything.
AND my punk, 80s makeup (i'm 31!).
and the fact that i've seen every episode of "dawson's creek."
...ahem... and "that's so raven."

all i'm saying is that i don't wear irony well. or, i don't wear it ironically.
or whatever.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

i ran into this guy the other day who i remembered instantaneously (instantly?) and vividly. but he didn't recognize me so i didn't mention it.
about 20-25 years ago, he lived next door to my grandma and consequently he and i would play together almost every day. one summer afternoon, we sat in his living room eating popsicles when he inexplicably stood up and stripped nude. following his lead, i stood up and RAN HOME!
later, his mother brought him over to my grandma's house and forced him to apologize to me for nuding up.
i did not bring up this story the other day.
but it is so in my arsenal in case i ever see him being a jerk.
it's my own brand of vigilante justice.