Good... And Good for You

7:05 am alarm goes off. hit snooze. 7:10 am alarm on cell phone goes off. turn off. 7:14 am alarm goes off. hit snooze. 7:15 am second alarm on cell phone goes off. turn off. 7:23 am alarm goes off. turn off. 8:45 am wake up. 8:47 am go into living room. turn on "buffy" on fx (the first episode of season four. v good.) 8:48 am go into kitchen. make scrambled eggs and hot chocolate. not a good combination. 8:52 am make goal to go grocery shopping later. 9:01 am change channel to "dawson's creek" (the episode where jen and jack make out. not good). 9:02 am change back to "buffy" (the second episode of season four. also v good). 9:27 am sister wakes up and comes out and watches "buffy" (second episode. still v good). 9:28 am sister asks if she can have cereal. don't have milk. offer her last egg. 9:29 am internally reemphasize goal to go grocery shopping later. 9:59 am get ready for work. 10:07 am leave for work...

yesterday, i was getting some last minute christmas shopping done at the mall and this guy came up to and was all, "don't i know you?" and i was all, "not likely." and he was all, "oh. you should be famous. and also rich." and i was all, "tell me about it." and so he handed me a big wad of money. and then just stood there and started clapping. and then everyone in the mall started applauding. and someone gave me a tiara. and then hugh jackman came up to me and was all, "come with me, my love." sigh... and i did. that would've been awesome, right?

i just want to hit something. or someone. why is there such a consistent barrage of list shows? "outrageous fashion" this and "hotnessy people" that. why? why?? and why is paris hilton on every single list? and why, when they're talking about paris hilton, do they always start by saying, "paris doesn't exactly live... the simple life ... [pause for audience laughter at hideously overused pun]"? forcing me to get up and slap my tv. why do they do this to me? you know, i used to like paris hilton, back in the day when everyone hated her. but now everyone's all, "oh paris, what list have you gotten yourself onto now" and it makes me completely insane. and also, mtv gave her an award for the catch phrase of 2004... "that's hot." and in a post award show interview they asked her what 2005's catch phrase would be and she said... "loves it." which hurts me. what if people actually start saying it?

two transcripts in a row. completely unforgivable. i was actually early for church on sunday. i was very smug. and also very eavesdroppy. boysittingbehindme#1 (henceforth he will be called "bob"): hey. "steve" (a.k.a. boysittingbehindme#2): hey. bob: i haven't seen you in forever. steve: ya. bob: not since you got halo 2. steve: ya. i've been in my room playing it. bob: ... so, how are you? steve: all right. bob: ya? steve: ya. how are you? bob: all right. steve: ya? bob: ya. steve: ...so... how's your love life? bob: hehehe steve: hehehe... no seriously. bob: it's all right. steve: ya? bob: ya. steve: like, i'm friends with a lot of girls in the ward. bob: ya? steve: ya. bob: ... steve: ... bob: ... that sucks. steve: ya. and then i started giggling and they started whispering.

crazy cousin once removed: [mid rant about "nam"] it's like marlon brando said in "apoclypse now"... "the horror! the horror!!" me: ...um... ya... i've never seen "apolcypse now". too heart of darknessy. ccor: are you being a smartass? me: are you being a dumbass? dad: [snoring in recliner] ccor: are you dating any boys? or girls? me: no. [walk over to mom, grandma, and great-aunt] great aunt: walmart is putting small stores out of business. grandma: i got this ring at walmart! ccor: i know why you're not dating anyone. [grabs my butt] you've gotten fat. me: gasp! mom: i bet a 2 carat diamond engagement ring would make you seem thinner. me: [speechlessness] ccor: i bet 2 big melons would make you seem thinner. me: [wishing the ground would swallow me up] g-ma: you and i don't have to wear bras! and then i died.

how to not run your factory in an efficient and profitable manner comparable to "the apprentice" a.k.a. the best show EVER i think kelly will win. pay your graphic designer less than the newly hired candy packagers. let "are you kidding me with this dave?!" dave use her computer to read espn sports, play online hearts, and download viruses that cause her computer to CRASH! and then let her deal with all the printers and newspaper ad people who were apparantly promised files from the CRASHED computer ASAP by people who are not her. hire 40 year old nigel the dish washer to be the new office manager even though he is crazy and threw a pretzel rod across the kitchen because the dish washing pressures were just too much. yep. let him be the face of your company. don't allow any discussion over redoing your super lame company website. let freaky popcorn jason and his freaky popcorn wife wander around in the back of the factory "supervising" the newly...

everyone i work with has been doing a "yay! bush is president! the country is no longer in danger of careening down into a pit of terrorism and economic ruin!" victory dance. good on them. contrasted with my non work friends who've been doing a "crap! bush is president! the country is now in danger of careening down into a pit of terrorism and economic ruin!" defeat dance. that's hard. me? i am doing no dance. i'm doing a pathetically apathetic non-dance. seriously. i want to have an opinion. i wish somebody would explain their fuss to me so i could join in and have some sort of lasting side inclination. i think all this makes me wishy washy. or a fence sitter. or something else equally disappointing. in one of my high school yearbooks there's a huge, 2 page spread of a bunch of students cheering at a football game. it's complete pandemonium. everyone's going crazy. except me, who's standing there with some pretty impressive not caring. (...

after falling off the moderately-healthy-eating-regime-wagon into a huge pile of taco bell, i've come to a crossroads. i can either (A) live in a dark abyss of grilled stuffed burritos, continue the first name basis with the drive in guy, and await the obvious copy cat documentary of me, the sad taco bell woman who can no longer fit through its doors... or (B) not. i choose not. stupid taco bell. seducing me with your 89 cent tacos and beacon-like sign.

this morning i finally saw a personalized licence plate cover i approve of, and even kind of want for myself because it said, "don't follow me, i'm lost too." except i don't want it on my licence plate, i want it on my t-shirt. or on a blinking neon sign floating 10 inches above my head. not to give the impression that i'm anymore lost than usually. i'm, in fact, rather compacent. that can't be good. feeling settled in a place that you don't want to be settled can't be good. i have a slightly ominous feeling that 10 years from now i'll still be in provo, taking classes, on the verge of poverty, with the same stupid dent in the bumper of my car. random jumping of topics. the licence plate kind of reminded me of when i wanted to move to arizona two years ago because i hated snow, and shoes, and daylight savings, and byu. but i decided to be rational, and ended up not packing up my life (sans sweaters, coats, and shoes) and heading ...

in the last two weeks, i've seen at least 50 million kids i used to go to high school with. i don't remember if they used to be interesting in high school but i do remember that they're not interesting now. seeing them has not been useful to me. sadly, it doesn't satisfy my vanity. for some reason i no longer care if people know that i wear makeup now. and stylish jeans. and have non orangey hair. gladly, it doesn't satisfy a deep seeded need for vengeance. it's not yet important to me that they're fat. or bald. or working at the gap. i think this blog would've come out a lot nicer if "who's the boss" wasn't on in the background.

tomorrow i'm going to go to walmart. and i'm going to buy a hat. and gloves. and a scarf. and some sweaters, sweat shirts, sweat socks. and some hot chocolate.

18 year old malorie was talking to some guy on the phone. after an hour's conversation he asked, "hey, do you think i could call you collect?" she said, "... um, no... my name's malorie." malorie also thought 24 squared was... 2. malorie makes me feel really really smart.

i'm sick. due to lack of quality employees, and shipping organization, i've been temporarily demoted to candy packager. and i'm really sick. and that's fine, really. but that's why, when i stumbled into work this morning and after 2 seconds work boy (boss' son) came around the corner yelling, "dad!" and then looked at me, and then i looked at him and said, "dude!" and then he said, "hu... sorry. i thought you were my dad", that's why i got a little misty. and that's fine too. for the last time, I AM NOT A MAN!!!

people whom i've sometimes wished would read my blog, until i actually think about it and decide it's better off that they don't... my mom jacque cousteaux (even though he's dead. i think. if he's not, he's like 133 years old, in which case why isn't he on the news?) donahue (even though he might be dead too) pauly shore (even though his career is dead) doogie howser (even though he's fictional) james one of the old members of menudo (but not ricky martin) leonard nemoy somebody french

if my blog were a sitcom, it would have to have a little off topic, pre-credits, opening blurb scene. i've been going to the gym pretty religiously this week and i've been trying to eat a v. high protein lunch for energy purposes. i'm not really sure what "high protein" involves. steak, obviously. and eggs. and hopefully mexican food because really that's what i've been eating for lunch. i haven't lost any weight yet. roll opening credits. and now to the point. i thought i knew how to get along with people, but lately i don't feel up to the task. my roomate's friends come over pretty consistently. Saturday her sister wore a t-shirt that said, "i [heart symbol] buns." and the whole group of them kept on calling each other's cell phones and leaving the message,"you're such a fag" over and over and over. i sat in the kitchen and sketched a picture of an eye. this guy came into the retail store to buy a ...

when i moved into my new apartment complex, i found myself never intending to date again. ever. i momentarily lack the mental resiliency and emotional aptitude which dating requires. (and when i say i "momentarily lack" it, i mean that i never had it.) there have been signs. sign, the first... yesterday morning i killed a suspicious looking spider (the task involving 1. 409 and, 2. jumping up & down and squealing). when it mysteriously reappeared on my bedroom wall that night i was fully convinced i was about to be the target of some renegade arachnid vendetta. sign, the second... while filling in at the retail store- which, by the way, is completely boring and i suggest you never do it- i started to wonder if i was the mall equivalent of the ape exhibit at the zoo. i gawked back at my audience hoping to see someone i knew and had the strangest sensation that everyone looked familiar. is it possible that i've met every single person in utah valley? that i've been ...

there's a stray cat that owns my apartment complex. i hate this stray cat. me. the lover of all animals. and most inanimate objects. kat. i hate it. and i feel completely horrible about it. so yesterday, when i opened my door and it ran in and meowed by my fridge, i made myself not resent it's unabashedness. instead i named it william and threw a 4 day old egg roll outside for it. but truth be told i did resent william. jerk. i don't get it. at the villa there was a stray cat and i loved it. there was also tony and that crack addict guy, and i didn't have a problem with them either. where did my good will, and easy goingness, and love of mankind go? or... you know, animalkind, or whatever. sigh... you know what i'm getting at.

i keep on finding myself in weird juxtaposed conversations. nobody is making sense today. usually i'd blame it all on my lack of an attention span or on my habitual spacing out at a job which can recently be described as nothing short of yawn worthy, but this morning i've really been trying to pay attention so i don't think i should take any blame for these dada-esque situations. what would i give for a nice, linear, logical conversation right now? man, what wouldn't i give?

i have this mad desire to write a blog, the problem being that i have absolutely nothing of nonimport to write and i vowed long, long ago that i would never write anything important on this blog since i don't think i'd like proof that all my "important stuff" really isn't important at all.

my entire life is contained within my car... from bedding to clothes to the bright orange stuffed animal i rescued from apartment 35. i'm kind of a vagrant. and so i went to salt lake and hung out with my parents. and slept a lot. and watched "back to the future". during which my dad turned to me and said, "i bet you think i was a huge geek in high school." to which i responded, "no, i never thought that." the whole truth being that i've never postulated anything about my high school dad. which i feel kind of bad about. because the even wholer truth is that i often do think about what people must have been like as teenagers. i have this whole theory that ben affleck never went on a date in high school. he was one of those kids who, after getting rejected for the 40 billionth time said, "someday i'll be famous and then you'll ALL PAY! [insert maniacal laughter here]" and then he did get famous and that's why he's a huge cr...

"where are my flip flops? shoot! i swear, i just saw them. i'm already so late for work. for the love! where are they? em, have you seen my flip flops? gaaaa!! i hate my life!!! where are they?? ... oh. i'm wearing them."

a lot of people wish they could go back in time and give their 12 year old selves some encouragement. or maybe some advice. ya. i would definitely go back in time and give 12 year old kat some advice. some fashion advice. first i would tell me to never let a friend, relative, or random lady in my ward touch my hair. i would tell me to save up my money and go to a really nice salon where i would never have to deal with orange, streaked, or freakishly short hair. and i would tell myself to never EVER get a perm. (ew. i shudder in remembrance of... my fro. it was angry. it wanted to hurt things. it had a blood lust.) secondly i would tell me to never buy a trendy article of clothing when i know full well it's ugly. i would cite specifically school girl skirts, capris, and body suits. (ew. again i shudder. in remembrance of the body suit/overall combination.) most importantly i would tell me to wear my retainer. talk about 5 years of braces down the drain.

i was watching some program on vh1 and some guy was like, "pshaw... your mom blah blah blah." and this other guy turned to him was like, "hey. that's not funny. my mom died from blah blah blah." and i sat up and pointed at the tv and said, "hey!! you got that from me*!!" i can't believe it took me so long to figure it out. vh1 is totally using me as their woman of the people/pop culture reference. vh1 is stalking me. i mean, do they or do they not have a blog? what other proof do you need?! i now consider it my duty, my privilege even, to mess with their heads. by using nonsensical words like "neopocalypse"and "rhapsotropic". or maybe just "psychatron". by wearing those HUGE driving sunglasses my grandparents buy. you know, the sunglasses that are so big they wear them over their regular glasses. by going on the katkin's diet based on your body's need for concentrated minerals. you eat nothing but bacon on mond...

my bosses are in disagreement about a box design (which pretty much means that rather than talking to each other (and coming to a concensus) they're telling me what to do (which pretty much means i've created 2 completely different sets of boxes (one for each boss))). the good news is that i get to go home in an hour (the not so good news being that i'm trying not to drink mountain dew anymore (i keep on having flashes of the carbonation eating away at my insides (thus giving me an ulcer, or acid reflux, or something like that (or maybe it's just rotting my teeth))). really, though, when you come right down to it, i should be quitting dr. mario cold turkey (i went to bed last night and every time i closed my eyes i saw little shapes falling down and it was DRIVING ME CRAZY!), but if i do that, then trying to quit drinking mountain dew on top of it all seems just a little excessive (maybe instead i should keep it simpler by refusing to go to that one 7/11 (where i alwa...

in order to regain a shred of the independence i lost by getting voice mail on my cell phone, i went to a movie by myself for the first time EVER. let me be candid. none of the following reasons are why i went... i was bored i have a theory that mac's have monopolized the cinematic product placement niche and i wanted to see what a futuristic mac owned world is like (important to note: even with complete robot domination, it isn't half bad) my roomate's been unconscious on my couch for over 48 hours the beautiful will smith the equally beautiful audi . when i was 15 i made a long list of things i wanted to do before i died. a really long list. one of the inconsequential things on it was going to a movie by myself. i don't really know why it was on the list or why that particular item has stayed with me through the years. maybe because such an insignificant action seemed to represent the first step in becoming the self sufficient, unabashed person i so wanted to become...

there are 3 very specific things making me angry right now but i don't have the energy to deal with them in an assertive way. instead i'll deflect my anger towards several inconsequential items... mace's "welcome back" song. mace, you are NOT welcomed back. actors with 3 names, or to be more precise, actors who aren't able to act three names worth (referring mostly to jennifer love hewitt) provo housing not letting me buy a puppy when i would so prefer a puppy to roomates. "finding nemo" vh1's constant listing... "100 craziest rock & roll moments", "500 hottest hotties", "hollywood rock bodies", "300 people you don't know", "50 sexiest vagrants", "70 hottest celebrities addicted to crack", etc. i feel much better now. don't you feel better? i feel better.

as many of you know, yesterday was deemed "julymas", a joyous time of feasting and merriment. it's my belief that every winter holiday should be re-celebrated during the summer when i'm in a better mood. a much better mood. the kind of really good mood where i call a thunder & lighting downpour a julymas miracle and start humming "i'm dreaming of a wet julymas" while i do the dishes. however... this morning i woke up with what can only be described as the julymas hangover of DEATH !! being yanked into a jarringly painful, blurry visioned consciousness at 7:30 by guns and rose's "welcome to the jungle" can only be described as terrifying and somewhat surreal. the most unlucky thing of all is that i'm on this whole "i don't take excedrin anymore because i'm pretty sure it's been eating away at my stomach lining" kick. to compromise, i didn't go into work until 10am, and on my way decided to locate the bigges...

i almost threw someone out of my apartment yesterday. for telling my roommate to grow out her hair. in an expectant tone. as though she should run out and buy some hormone pills or steroids or something to instantly produce 14 inches of hair growth. who does he think he is? giving bad fashion advice on MY turf! 5 minutes after he tried to convince us the woman combover is sexy!! telling me that a metrosexual trumps the straight roommate?? i have some news for you mr. metrosexual... #1 when em's 15 year old, deaf brother said her haircut made her look like a boy, i took a crash course in a.s.l. and promptly told him to "shove it". do you think YOU can get away with the same thing? #2 long hair, short hair, no hair- em's hot. point THAT out. #3 don't ever try and trump me. in my apartment, the only thing that trumps a straight roommate, is a queen.

yesterday i got a job . another one. a third one. a really nice one. were they amazed by my resume? no. i didn't bring one. were they impressed by my references?? no. unless being a babysitter for the howlett's is impressive. were they blown away by my portfolio?!? no. they didn't see one. but they did think my replies to their "wow... you're really tall" comments were funny. and they thought it was really cool that i'd brought chocolate truffles in for them. and my outfit was really cute. ... did you guys ever see " working girl "? at the end of the movie, melanie griffith has her fancy new job, and fancy new office, and fancy new harrison ford. she puts her feet up on her new desk and calls joan cusack who rejoices on her behalf. the end. roll credits. which now drives me crazy because melanie griffith has just spent the past two hours of my life posing as some executive, and ya, she did it for the greater good, but now ...

all my working life i've been told that when it comes to getting a job it's not "what you know, but who you know" which i decided this week is catagorically untrue because you have to impress these supposed connections enough to want to hire you. all i can say is, it's a good thing the internet mogel guy i met on monday loves homestarrunner... because that's all i know.

today i became a woman. um... ok. that's a lie. today i pretended to be a woman. um... that sounds shifty. today i had to call up a printing company and talk to them about how they completely messed up some brochures and made them look all gross when they should've looked all hot and i had to convince them to re-print the brochures, because my bosses are all passive aggressive and didn't want to do it themselves. um... too detailed? today i became a lackey.

that's been my personal mantra this week. if you knew how to instantly lose a couple of inches off your torso thus making it possible for you to slip through a 6 inch window opening and save the last minute, pre-marital fondue extravaganza going on in your apartment, you would do it, wouldn't you? because i did. without any hesitation. if, by driving for 25 hours straight, you could get out of freakishly ugly, woodsy, tumble weedy, mutant bug infested, mutant bug fostering, road kill strewn, construction mangled, canada bordering, boring, explitive producing, forever big, hideously, horribly, hellishly stupid, stupid, STUPID montana, you would drive those 25 hours, wouldn't you? because i did. without any hesitation. if, for the past 40 hours, you'd only ingested mountain dew, ding dongs, and excedrin, wouldn't you seriously consider eating the container full of 2 days old left over spagetti factory pasta you randomly found in your glove compartment? because i did....

i can make a chocolate souffle. i can recite "billy madison" in its entirety. i can tell you about the byzantine influence on art. i can say "shut up and kiss me" in 12 different languages. i can put my legs behind my head. i can list 50 different computer fonts. i can get a grumpy two year old to take a nap. i can tell you the title and season of any "buffy" episode. i can look my crazy CRAZY relative in the eyes and say, "oh, i'm sorry, were you talking? because i wasn't listening." i can make tacos for an entire student ward. i can tell you whether or not you'll have blue eyed children using a punnett square. i can do the "beat it" dance. i can make a color wheel with the primary, secondary, tertiary, AND quaternary colors. but... i can't make jello. so if you're wondering what that bowl of freaky, somewhat gelatinous material is at the tri-ward party tonight, don't come to me. go to heather cl...

life is eerily cyclical. well, to be more precise, my life is eerily cyclical. the second or third time i go through something there's this almost tangible pressure to come out the other side intact, and unscathed. it must be an internal self redemptiony thing because i have this mad desire to be able to, when it's over, throw my head back and scream, "see?? I'VE GROWN!!" and all my past mistakes won't really count as "mistakes" anymore because they caused all the emotional growage in the first place. they were more of a means-to-an-end thing, really. more important, however, is the fact that i've designed a hot pink mailer at work. also important: i'm wearing a side ponytail. i'm bringing the fad back, girls.

do you know how much i miss the days of my grandfather giving me money and cars (as opposed to the piles of reader's digests and ceramic eagle statues he gives me now)? do you even know?? man. someday when i own disney, i'm going to make a movie about a girl who randomly gets cut off financially by her grandfather and has to support herself by working at a chocolate factory. and the owner of the chocolate factory will be played by gene wilder. and she will have a sister who works with her and says things like, "man! if i'd have know i was bigger than him i NEVER would've gone out with him." and of course, a conservative mother who says things like, "it only takes one night with a boy to be stuck with him forever." and a crazy roomate who falls down. and many MANY bad dates. and probably a few powerball, action sequences. and what a great movie it will be.

let me share with you the four events that shaped my week, in order of their importance... #1. my car hit the 20,202 mile mark. not a crucial milestone in the life of my car, but apparently something worthy of me gasping in joyful surprise. symmetrical mile markage is on my spectrum of simple pleasures. right up there with licence plates that have my initials in them. #2. all last night i was worried that i was being ungrateful, or unambitious, or cowardly lionish. but this morning i realized that i was actually being rational and logical and that maybe i don't have to go through every door that opens in order to succeed. #3. i finally tried the new adult happy meal from mcdonalds. i'm happy to have a step counter to wear at work so i can finally answer the question, "how many steps does it take to get from my desk to the printer?" and i'm happy to have a dasani water bottle with the golden arches symbol on it, but...sigh... i couldn't help but be dis...

last summer, after countless dating discussions, the hausen brothers and i made a goal that in the coming year we would... DATE SOMEONE WE LIKED that's it. this was essentially a two part goal: #1 we had to date someone, and #2 we had to like them. i haven't technically acheived the goal yet, but the hausen brothers are both married... to girls they like. so you see, the goal is sheer brilliance. it takes all the psychotic love/commitment phobia out of dating. take this goal as your own. learn it. live it. love it.

there's only one thing i hate about summer, and that's the incredible flood of blockbuster disaster movies. thankfully the year of the earth destroying meteors is behind us, but what i still want to know is who allowed the movie "the day after tomorrow" to come into being? it's not going to be good guys. but i'm still tempted to see it, mostly because i want to find out which corny line inspired the even cornier title. prediction #1 i'm hoping the plot focuses around a cute but misunderstood brainiac. some main scientist guy will explain the earth's inevitable doom to the president of the united states. main scientist guy will say something like, "the earth as we know it will die and in it's place an entirely new planet will surface... like saturn... but without the cool rings. everyone will die. like, everyone. california will probably fall into the ocean and antarctica will become a tropical paradise. my point is, this will be even MORE cata...

today was my first day doing graphic designey stuff AT work. they finally bought me a computer, or to be more precise they gave me the computer they originally bought for carolyn. my job is so great. like, SO great. not because of what i'm doing, or who i'm doing it with, but because i can wear WHATEVER i want and it won't get even a little bit covered in chocolate. and i feel somewhat justified in calling my mom and making her buy me congratulatory shoes this weekend. you know, the pointy toed, high heeled shoes at nordstroms that you'd never wear if you were bagging candy all day. ya. those shoes.

ok. i got some freaky yellow highlights which made me feel like i should audition for "x men"... but then i got it re-done and it totally looks good now. i would consider that breaking even. i played powerball and got punched in the mouth so hard that i bled... but then i got a huge carton of cookie dough ice cream as an apology. again, breaking even. my bosses are talking about getting me a computer so that i can design stuff for them all the time... but they want to get me a pc rather than a mac. even. i met a lot of creepy guys this week... not even. NOT EVEN!! sigh... ok.

by writing two blogs in one week i run the serious risk of setting a new, two blog a week precedence which i won't be able to live up to. i'll take the chance. first of all, keep an eye out for new candy bags that have labels which I designed (please note the first capital letter i've used in my blog since...well, ever). that's right. you can find them at nordstrom. you can order them. you can go to the mall and buy them by the truck load. next of all, if i ever again have to hear a professor say that they're going to take off their "teacher hat" for a second, i won't be able to stifle my laughter. seriously. unless they're actually wearing a hat. and they take it off. last of all, it's that time of year. you know, the time of year where i shop. i can feel it in every fiber of my being. i'm visualizing a hot, graphic designish, banana republicy, she-can-turn-the-world-on-with-her-smile kind of a look. and it might involve gray slacks. i...

now, let's say that flakeyness is something that can only be defined by comparison. let's say there's some kind of ever changing flakeyness spectrum and the entire population creates a nice little bell curve over said spectrum and on one end there's an extremely non flake-ish person and on the other end there's jessica simpson. and the person who's even more flakey than jessica simpson on the flake spectrum would be me. because yesterday i didn't go to work or school. bcause i couldn't find my car key. and also i think i'm addicted to "dawson's creek" now.

i hate pc's. i hate the hbll. and most of all, yes, most of all, i HATE fhe videos.

my dog's name is dasie. i like to spell her name d-a-s-i-e instead of d-a-i-s-y because my other dog's name was sadie and i'm the only person in america who thinks it's cool that you can use the same letters for both names. last night i went up to salt lake because my dad's out of town. i ate dinner with my mom and grandma and dasie. now for the crux of the story. dasie is FAT! so incredibly fat. like jaba the hut but cocker spaniel style. my mom blames it on dasie's recent dependency on steroids, but i strongly believe that would result in buffness (and maybe a little butchness) rather than fatness. the mystery of her intense obesity was cleared at dinner when dasie got to eat everything i ate out of her special sunday bowl. the only difference was dasie got served before me. ok, fine, i'm on equal footing with my mom's dog, whatever. but, i ask you, is it fair that she got a bowl of ice cream for desert?? and i didn't???

if i get married, i'm going to have to live with a boy. i never really thought about it and honestly i don't really know what all that will entail, but i'm pretty sure it won't involve the 3 am taco bell binges, the spontaneous dance parties to the theme song from "fame", or the life threatening tricks on the big-yellow-ball-of happiness. the three things that i really love about my life won't be included in the future. unless i marry a gay man. which reminds me! josh groban might just be the most annoying man on fm100 right now. i'm really poor right now. like, really poor. i know you all can relate. i've been in this pretty consistant state of denial ever since my grandpa cut me off last december, but yesterday it hit me because i have a hole in my tennis shoe and i can't afford new ones. do you hear that?? i don't like it. i don't like being poor. and what if i never figure out a way to not be poor? which reminds me! i watched ...

sitting across from me in design class today was "luxor". his name isn't really luxor. i named him that in my head. and i fully realize that luxor isn't really a name, it's a casino. still, his name is luxor and if you saw him you'd know why. he looks like the villain from a bad sci-fi movie. he has way too much hair and he's into welding and i'm pretty sure he's plotting my downfall.

listen... i understand that jeffrey and i are not best friends. i understand that him borrowing my pirated copy of "zoolander" a year and a half ago does not constitute a real relationship. i understand that i am not his confidante nor his girlfriend. i understand that he isn't actually my real life version of "cronk". i understand this. what i don't understand is how any girl could ever kick him in the heart. or why when i saw his ex girlfriend walk past my apartment today i had to stop myself from going outside and pummeling her.

on a regular sunday during my freshman year of college, i was walking home from church with my roomates, having the typical freshmany conversation i'm sure many of you have had. until a bird pooped on my head. and then as any freshman roomates would react, they pointed and laughed. i really don't blame them. the point is, i had to walk the rest of the way to my apartment with bird poop on my head. it wasn't pleasant. i mean, it could've been worse, but seriously it wasn't fun. and that's how i feel now, like i've had to get through this past week with bird poop on my head.

as you may have noticed, i HATE february and here's why... * it's cold. frigidly, freakishly cold. * you never, EVER see the sun... only ugly, gray clouds. * hormones are at an all time low. * stress is at an all time high what with the semester being in full swing with absolutely no end in sight. * all the cars are dirty. * people get all angsty around mid-month if they don't have someone special. * people get all angsty around mid-month if they do have someone special. which leads me to my next point... as you may have noticed, i LOVE valentine's day and here's why... * the whole day centers around chocolate. * halmark kiss-kiss bears. * i love red... and pink. ya, i love pink too. * the whole idea of a secret admirer who might bring you things. * red hots. and now for my final (and central) point... valentine's day should NOT be in february. february is a black hole. it sucks all the fun from such a loveful holiday as valentines day. too many people have succ...

while working in the libido packaging room this morning, i was given the all important job of closing the boxes. so when my coworkers put in a kenny loggins compilation cd, i was very happily transported into an 80's movie. it was completely apparent that i was molly ringwald in "pretty in pink". although, come to think of it i could very well have been molly ringwald in "the breakfast club". or even molly ringwald in "sixteen candles". the point is, my job is boring. ...i was probably allie sheedy.

i'm telling you, if summer doesn't come soon i'm going to snap, seriously snap. winter is so completely ugly. and everyone's in a bad mood. and i'm tired of wearing sweaters. and i'm bored, really bored. the other night i came away from an awkward dtr thinking, "hehehe... that was kind of fun." that would NEVER happen in summer. in summer, i would play powerball. and go rollerblading (and fall down). and walk to 7/11 at 4 in the morning. and keep my doors and windows open 24/7. and go on road trips to far off places like kamas or maybe parawan. and i would never EVER think having a dtr was a good idea. ever.

i have a question... why isn't there lightning and thunder during a snowstorm?

it's not a good thing for me to be awake at 2:30 in the morning, in fact, i avoid it at all costs because late at night my brain has a chance to unwind and all of a sudden i process a lot of information that i didn't have time to deal with during the day, like how i turned in a mix cd for an assignment in a graphic design class with a green day song on it. and that green day song has the f-word in it ... a few times.

the song from "my fair lady" should have been: "why can't a man be more like a gay man?"

today i sat next to my new best friend. i can only assume that his name is corey. sigh... and i love him. he seemed so happy to be in our design class, even though he wasn't paying attention at all. in the movie i constructed in my mind, corey is a tireless dreamer, and i am his cynical best friend who wears simple yet stylish outfits, gives down-to-earth advice, and rolls her eyes a lot. we're inseparable. corey is incredibly talented and i encourage him. we're so happy... ...until corey meets some skinny, blond girl -i can only assume her name is libbie- who's the exact opposite of me... the best friend... and they fall in love and i'm left to fend for myself and even though i feel positively wretched, i still comfort him when he and libbie have a fight and i even help him win her back. but does he remember me? no!! he and libbie live happily ever after while i continue a lonely, miserable life which i mask with sarcasm and bitterness until i DIE!!!! at which poin...

the good news is, for the first time in over two months i was attracted to someone. the bad news is, it was a random scrubby guy in my drawing class.

i became queen of the computer nerds in my graphic design class when i all too easily guessed that this semester's lab password was "parrot". there was a picture of a parrot by the sign in space. i am smart and they are stupid. also... my drawing teacher came into class and announced that my biggest impediment to the art process is... my brain. also... work boy and i have a combined kissing total of 100 people. take that how you will.

i love being an art student because i sit next to people named forest and versaille. i love that at some point i'm always asked to draw my shoe as a self portrait of myself. ooo! and i love that i go to school straight from work so i'm usually wearing 5 layers of my scrubbiest, sugar encrusted clothes but i have yet to be the worst attired individual in the room. ya, being an art student is nice, even though i don't fit in. i laugh at every shoe/self portrait assignment and i scorn both forest and versaille for there poor fashion sense. but worst of all i don't fall for any of the crap my free spirited art teachers dish out. still, i love being an art student.

...you would know the following things... #1 i'm much more easy going when i'm highly medicated on codeine. #2 i am in love with mr. darcy... seriously. #3 i undoubtedly do the worst "wayne's world" impression EVER. #4 i took a quiz and it told me that if i were a disney princess i would be snow white. #5 the only problem that chocolate can not solve, is nausea.