Good... And Good for You

okay, yes, i admit this has nothing to do with christmas. but to those of you who have yet to know the joy and hilarity of catherine tate, i'm gifting you something rather wonderful...

coming to the end of one of my shifts at " the w.s. " (a nickname used by me. and me alone.) i was cashiering for the massive hoard of people as fast as i possibly could. next in line stood a man my age with longish hair, and a corduroy jacket over a hoodie sweatshirt. and a hat. a fuzzy pink hat with the word "fluffy" on it. i made eye contact and said, "are you ready to go?" he said, "yep", turned and headed towards the exit, then stopped and walked over to me, chuckling to himself over how he had literally started "to go". "good for you", i mumbled. "did you find everything you needed?" he smirked, "well, i found everything i needed here ." and then chuckled to himself again. i was tired. and worn. the district manager was visiting that day which had little to no direct effect on me except to make everyone who wasn't a seasonal worker very tense and bossy. i had been yelled at yelled at! by the evi...

the boss' six year old daughter: when i was little, i used to think your name was kit. me: well, it almost is. six: no it's not! your name is kat. but i thought it was kit! me: like kitkat? six: no! like a doctor's kit! and i was always like, 'mom, why does she have such a weird name?' me: . . . right on.

there are things i wish would hurry up and be invented already. i wish for them so hard. sometimes i stare longingly at the sea awaiting the safe, though belated, arrival of my dear, dear things to be invented. and they are... 1. excedri-pop. description: an excedrin lollipop. really bad slogan idea: "why let the pain lick you when you can lick the pain away?" 2. detachable car plow/road salter description: a combination plow/salt dispenser for the front of my car. really bad slogan idea: "when you die on the freeway, it should be because you want to!" 3. magic mirror description: a mirror that gives me verbal affirmation while i get ready in the morning. really bad slogan idea: "because you are the fairest in the land."

a few, intensely lucky people have been witness to my "guitar hero" skills. for those of you who have not, i am the guitar hero. i take "medium level" to, like, a whole new level. but not a new level like "hard" because then i would have to use the orange button. and i am not ready for that.

getting stuff together for websites is boring. photoshop is boring. the whole entire everything is boring. . . . i can focus on website photos for maybe maybe 5 minutes before my mind wanders. no matter what i try to do. for most of the day i've been playing a drinking game where i reward every good, work-ethical achievement with a swig of diet coke. but it's not really helping. because i also console myself for every bad, slackerly moment... with a swig of diet coke. i edited a picture of cinnamon hearts. good. diet coke. i watched an episode of "family guy" online. bad. diet coke. i de-emphasized the background of the picture of our "frog prince" candy. good. diet coke. i found a cute dog named tiramisu on petfinder, went to the animal shelter to see her, and then called the shelter later to adopt her only to find out she'd just been adopted by someone else. bad. and kind of depressing. diet coke. i cropped the picture of gummy bunnies. good. diet co...

my favorite person to work with at my holiday retail job is "bob". i call her "bob" because that is her name. a fact which tickles me. bob never remembers my name but refuses to ask me what it is or say "hey you!" to get my attention. she instead walks up to me, takes me by the shoulders and holds me at arm's length while she reads my name tag. "ah. yes. kathryn ... how are you?" i do not like working with matthew. i am 8 feet taller than him and 32 years older. he has a plastic tube in his ear and looks up at me like i'm lame. well, he's the lame one. but if he were here right now, he'd say i was lame. no, matthew, you're the lame one. but if he were here, he'd say i was lame. no way, matthew, you're the lame one.

at the tender and wholesome age of 13, i loved few things more than dancing. i choose to believe i eclipsed the other girls on stage with my talent... and not with my 71 inch, betutued shadow and i refuse to watch any old video recordings which might besmirch that very opinion. after one particularly rousing christmas performance, a photographer asked to take some pictures of me and my dance teacher's stick insect daughter for some book. i happily obliged. at the bright eyed and bushy tailed age of 14, i received a christmas gift from my grandmother. a beautiful new book released by the lds church and on page 106? a tender and wholesome (and flushed. and sweaty) 13 year old me. virtually beaming with christmas cheer. i had never felt more famous. at the young and restless age of 20, i drove down to delta, utah (population: rabbits) with my quasiboyfriend and hung out while his "band" rehearsed. it was very loud and very dull and there was an air of cruelty to it for i was...