Good... And Good for You

whilst purchasing a christmas eve diet coke my chevron boyfriend, who always has something to say to me no matter which incarnation of myself he thinks i am, looked me up and down and said, "you look different today." "i look different?" "ya. different." "different how?" "i don't know. different." "... different bad? " "no!" reassured the homeless man who had jumped out of the dumpster and followed me into the chevron, "not different bad, different great!" "really?" "sure!" "okay. thanks. happy holidays." and all i'm saying is that a guy who was rummaging through garbage needed to reassure me that i'm pretty. what is wrong with me?

when i was 17, my parents finally got cable. it marked a turning point in my life. goodbye public television. hello mtv. besides "daria" and "real world: seattle: the one where a girl gets lyme disease: and this other guy slaps her: but despite the ticks and the drama i was still convinced living in seattle would be awesome: did you know there's a market where they throw fish?: they just throw the fish!: through the air !: did you know this em ?" and that one dating show with jenny mcarthy and that late night show with dr. drew that i never actually watched because, let's get real here, installing cable hadn't robbed my parents of their mental abilities. there was also this game show where contestants tried to keep a straight face while comedians did mini stand up routines and if they managed not to laugh they won money. it was called, like, "don't you dare laugh" or "laugh it up" or "laugh, dangit!" and maybe it wasn...

i feel compelled to ask a favor of you. i don't particularly want to do it via blog because of the potential for tacky but i also don't want to call everyone up either because when i'm interrupted mid rant i'll probably say something like, "um, i believe i had the floor" and whoever i'm talking to will be like "what is this, a phone philibuster?" and i'll be like "i did not yield the floor for a question!" and then i'll get hung up on. so, let's get started with a confession. i hate christmas. exhale saying that felt really good. as a kid i'm sure i liked christmas because of the toys and the decorations and the lack of school, but there are some things from christmas past i think back to and cringe over. so in retrospect, i don't know that i was ever all that into the season. as an adult- an adult with a job at a holiday dependent company (there used to be a very long rant here about work but i deleted it and you...

there are many, many, yes many times when i have the distinct feeling that throughout the course of the day my mind has been removed, translated into japanese, then translated back into english and placed back in my head. like a vcr manual. and things don't quite come out right. this is why i have a very strict rule forbidding in depth conversations after 10pm because i'll inevitably say something that- in the short distance between my brain and my mouth- comes out all retranslated and then i spend the next fifteen minutes trying desperately to undo what i did which turns out to be impossible because everything starts coming out in vcr manual. "hey, kat. how are you?" "ok, i guess. work is a nightmare but there is a light at the end of the tunnel so i just need to power through for two more weeks. 仕事は悪夢だが、そこはトンネルの終わりに光のように私は権力の座にさらに2週間を通じて必要があります the work nightmare, but there's light at the end of the tunnel, i like to power through the need for two weeks....

in times of war, it's the custom to censor the letters from soldiers to their loved ones to assure sensitive information isn't revealed to the enemy. i don't know how long this has been in place but here's an example of a highly censored letter from 1917... history! now, i'm not saying i'm in a war zone. but if i were to write the traditional, family thanksgiving dialogue, i would have to censor out a lot to avoid getting phone calls from said traditional family. so i'm taking the safest road possible... happy thanksgiving!