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.

Friday, July 29, 2011

an argument against democracy

a certain senator's campaign manager, who i really like (he's very grandpa-ish) (and he calls me "bright eyes"), came by the office to talk to my boss and, while he was waiting, said rather seriously, "kathryn, come sit down and talk to me."
"sure, bob."
i sat down next to him on the couch and waited for him to compose his thoughts.
"now... why on earth is a girl like you single?"

so much for getting my perspective on the budget crisis.

i did what i always do and joked around the issue and then smiled and nodded while he gave me dating advice, and then said, "i think you're absolutely right!"

so here's what i think, in a couple of weeks the congressman who might be challenging a certain senator in the primary is going to be coming into the office. and i figure i'll sit down with his campaign manager and have him/her give me some dating advice.

and that is how i'll decide who to vote for.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

old person tantrum

if there is one thing i have learned in the last 3 years, it is this...
thing i've learned #1: old people, like small children, thrive on routine.
thing i've learned #1b: do not mess with their routine.

so, random hypothetical, let's say you decide to go on your first vacation in, like, a year. and you're just going to be out of town for 3 1/2 days, but one of those days is a day of the week you usually visit a certain, semi-crazy old lady whose genetic material you share.
well, you have just torn that old person's routine asunder and nothing, not even trying to visit in the morning, before you head to the airport, will set things right.

thing i've learned #1c: when you break their routine, old people will try to destroy you using only their words.

old person: do you think you'll still have a job when you come back?
me: um, yes. because i'm good at my job.
old person: i don't know. you're going to learn the hard way how important it is to work hard.
me: ... i work hard.
old person: who are you going to san diego with?
me: a couple of friends.
old person: and what are you going to do?
me: i don't know. stuff. shop, relax, eat, visit with some other friends.
old person: no, i mean what are you going to do when you're 35 and you don't have any friends?
me: ...
old person: because these friends will be gone and you'll be all alone.
me: ... can't i make new friends?
old person: you should get used to being alone.
me: will do.

guilt is my iocane powder.

Monday, February 28, 2011

how you know it's february.
in utah.
and also, you're me...

you buy a season's pass to the local water park.
and then you buy two new swim suits online.
you get really excited about the free tea and hot cocoa at work.
you go to and try and find out exactly how far south you could get in a day.
you buy a bunch of seeds so you can get a head start on your gardening.
you let the pile of sweaters in your clothes hamper get bigger and bigger because the next time you wash them you want to PUT THEM AWAY.
you know exactly how many days there are until daylight savings.
you spend at least 5 minutes every day trying to convince your sallow reflection in the mirror that the sun will come out tomorrow. yes, it involves singing the song.

i don't like february.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011


the other day my boss had me deliver a gift to a senator he'd had a meeting with. that gift was a copy of the qu'ran.

wait. have i mentioned that i work for an iranian billionaire?
but that is not the story.
this is the story.
on this occasion i had the great privilege of meeting a racist black security guard.* and i don't mean "racist" like "he hated white people, " i mean "racist" like after i'd handed him my i.d. and laughed at his comments about my height because haha, good one, i am tall, he looked over to his friend the asian security guard and said, "man! my brain isn't working today! it's like i'm puerto rican."
and the racist black security guard's friend, the asian security guard, laughed.
i looked around for the rabbi and the priest and the lifeboat that i was positive had to be around somewhere.

then, the racist black security guard asked me what i was holding. i said a gift from my boss to the senator. the security guard asked what the book was and i said, "the qu'ran." the security guard asked what that was and i was like, "um... it's like scripture for muslims." then there was a lengthy pause. then the security guard asked me what my boss' name was because maybe he needed to be put on a watch list.
and the racist black security guard's friend, the asian security guard, laughed.

then, i got to the metal detector area and as i took off my coat and dumped out my keys another security guard came up to me and took the qu'ran out of my hands and I KID YOU NOT put it up to his ear and shook it.
"is there anything in this?"
"it feels like there's something in this. like a phone. is there a phone in this?"
and that is when my fear of people in uniforms was officially trumped by my brain's idiot alarm.
"well, it's a book and not a high-tech lock box so feel free to flip through it and check for secret phones."
and I KID YOU NOT he did.

if these are the people protecting us from actual terrorists, we're doomed.

*in telling this story and calling the security guards black and asian, did i feel racist? yes. yes i did.
but white people are like that.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

i can't believe my girlfriend's a gangsta'

well... turns out i AM employable.
i finally got a job a couple of weeks ago and if i weren't so afraid of jinxing myself, i'd go into specifics about how much i'm liking it so far because, seriously, it might very well be the exact job i've been looking for.
but the jinx is real so i'm going to stay away from specifics.
besides, i'd hate to become one of those "happy", "sunny", dare i say "shiny" bloggers who speaks earnestly, using words like "neat," and manages to write mostly in the third-person omniscient narrative (how DO people know what their spouses/children are thinking and feeling?), which, in my home would mean speaking on behalf of ziggy.
or my grandma's ghost.
which actually, yes yes, would be way cooler than what my blog is now.
a taste...

the other day before i left for work, i woke up ziggy from his mid-morning nap and said, "now ziggy, i'll be home by four o'clock. be good while i'm gone." he looked up at me innocently so i patted him on the head, helped him settle down for his late-morning nap and rushed out the door so i wouldn't be late.
ziggy woke up when somebody rang the doorbell. he got up and walked over to the mirror to check himself out while he yelled out, "ghost granny, will you get that?"
"no," ghost granny said, "you get it."
"but you're closer to the door!," ziggy whined.
"well, you're closer to the floor."

ziggy sighed and opened the door, letting in the workmen who had just arrived. ghost granny stared suspiciously as the workmen streamed into the house. she took ziggy aside and said, "you've got a lot of explaining to do and i hope it starts with the words, 'they've got a gun.'"
just then, a couple of men picked up the couch and started taking it out of the house.
"ziggy! what is going on??"
ziggy rolled his eyes and explained, "i agreed to a financial opportunity with no real leverage and zero risk!"
ghost granny nodded and then paused, "...ziggy! what is going on??"

ziggy explained to ghost granny that he'd been contacted by a film crew looking for a location to film the new bell biv devoe music video. they'd promised to be out by 2pm AND they were paying him $5000.
ghost granny was suddenly very much on board.
once transformed, the house looked totally fly, as did bell biv devoe. ghost granny was buggin'! she tried to sneak her way into the video by blending in with the background dancers but even though she had the moves, the director still yelled "cut!" and stared at her scornfully. ghost granny just looked at him and said, "yo. i was just tryin' to get to my room."

i suppose the whole plan would've gone off without a hitch if i hadn't called to let ziggy know that i would be home early.
i'm considerate like that.
ghost granny heard my message and interrupted the video shoot by saying, "okay! that's a wrap, everybody! that's a wrap! you ain't got to go home but you got to get the HECK out of here!" (ghost granny does not curse.)
ziggy trotted up to ghost granny, "what are you doing?"
"kat's coming home early."
"not at four?"
"not at four."
"...okay! that's a wrap, everybody! that's a wrap! you ain't got to go home but you got to get the HECK out of here!" (neither does ziggy)

everything would have been fine. like, in theory. if only at that VERY MOMENT, it hadn't started raining! thus soaking all of the furniture that had been moved outside.
unbelievable, you say? hardly. not when you've got two such incorrigible characters as a fresh, ghost granny and her cohort, the square yet lovable ziggy. "hijinks" just waits around for those two before it even thinks of ensuing.

well, ziggy and ghost granny did the only thing they could do... had a cleaning montage.
ziggy went out and bought a new matching couch with the $5000 he'd just earned, while ghost granny cleaned and also painted the walls where there were scuff marks. at first, ziggy came back with a curiously small love seat. ghost granny looked it over and asked, "when does the rest of it get here?"
ziggy tried to defend it, "if we rearrange the furniture, no one will even notice."
"i think kat will notice when she stands up and it's stuck to her butt!"

that was harsh, ghost granny. that was harsh. it was too cold to go to the gym this week, okay? come on!

miraculously, everything was cleaned and put back in place before i got home. ziggy and ghost granny looked around proudly at the home they'd essentially destroyed and rebuilt. ghost granny turned to ziggy, "i can't believe we pulled it off! how much money do we have left?"
ziggy looked down at his calculator, "according to my calculations... we're in the hole $80. which means you owe me $40."
ghost granny glared.
"...but you can pay me back later."

moments later, i walked in the door happy to see everything so immaculate and serene. ziggy cantered up to me, "hi! i didn't hear you come in!"
ghost granny chimed in, "we were just getting ready to read the bible!"

"wow," i said, "well, that's great! i don't know why but all day long i had this feeling like i was going to come home to a catastrophe. i'm so glad to know i was wrong."
ziggy and ghost granny beamed at me innocently.
i walked into my room, not yet realizing that the wall i'd been leaning against had just been given a fresh coat of paint. ziggy and ghost granny noticed, however, and looked at each other in panic.
"i'll pack the bags," ghost granny said, "ziggy, you drive."

the end

author's note: parts of this story MAY have been borrowed from one of my favorite episodes of "the fresh prince of belair" entitled "the butler did it" which i MAY have found online and watched in the middle of writing this little story.
author's note II: which is why most of the dialogue MAY also be borrowed from that same episode.
author's note III: i know what you're thinking and yes, i actually did borrow the funniest dialogue of the episode.
author's note IV: i am well aware this whole thing was weird.
sometimes you just have to let your brain do stuff like this.
although you don't really have to publish it. you have a point there.
author's note V: my grandma really was fly.

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

speed friending

i'd like to tell you about something that happened to me during this, the year of our lord two thousand and eleven.

but first, a warning. i am about to get very single on you.
and also very mormon.
i allow myself about one of these posts a year.

i went speed dating a week or so ago.
correction! 30 year old, single mormons can't admit that we need serious help interacting with members of the opposite sex and also we really can't even admit that we're single, so technically i went to something called "speed friending."
it was as awkward as it sounds.
i mean, for the most part it was fine. every time there was a pregnant pause between me and whomever i was supposed to be making small talk with for approximately two minutes, i would just ask the question on the sheet of paper i picked out of a bowl when i walked into the room (because us 30 year old, single mormons cannot even be trusted to our own small talk devices):
"are you a beach, country, or city person?"

can you predict what every person answered on that freezing, foggy, utah day?

i would say that, being the witty conversationalist i am, for the most part i didn't have to fall back on my assigned conversational topic.
but let's review the moments when i did, shall we?

conversation one
guy: (sits down. studies me.) ... so, which one of my friends do you know?
me: what?
guy: you look familiar. so, which one of my friends do you know?
me: i don't even... do you think that i've somehow been following you around, making a list of who your friends are?
guy: ...
me: no seriously, who are you? what is your name?
guy: ...
me: ...
guy: ... do you know my friend jill?
me: (look down at paper) ...are you a beach, country, or city person?

conversation two
girl: you were teaching sunday school a few months ago when my mom was visiting and she decided that you remind her of my sister-in-law.
me: right on.
girl: which i think is kind of weird because my sister-in-law is korean.
me: are you a beach, country, or city person?

conversation three
dude with justin bieber hair: i'm telepathic.
me: that's weird.
bieber: you think that's weird?
me: if you're telepathic then shouldn't you already know i think that's weird?
biebs: you don't believe me?
me: shouldn't you already know that i don't believe you?
the bieb: well, you know [launches into dissertation on the different powers of the x-men]. what x-man would you want to be?
me: i don't know. mystique, i guess. she was pretty cool. shape-shifty. blue.
bieb: oh, really. [launches into recitation of mystique's power limitations according to the comic book series as opposed to the hugh jackman movies]
me: okay then... which x-man would you want to be?
bieb: (smug) professor xavier.
me: so, are you a big comic book guy?
bieb: i don't know. sure.
me: i went to comic-con this last summer and it was pretty awesome.
bieb: (disdain) you went to comic-con?
me: ... are you a beach, country, or city person?

i'm not going to shape this into something where i'm awesome and everyone else is a freak because that would be exhausting and even more pathetic than just admitting that most of the people i dealt with were totally normal. and also, i'm weird(ish) and often awkward.

but i will say that i come home from stuff like this knowing that short of a miracle, i am going to be single forever.

and if you want to feel sorry for me, you can.
and if you feel so sorry for me that it leads you to buy me things, i won't stop you.
you could make me an "i'm sorry you're single" mix cd. that could be awesome.

i always love that scene from "much ado about nothing" where eleanor's family is all, "you need a man" and she's all unapologetically like, "he that is more than a youth is not for me and he that is less than a man i am not for him" and leaves it at that.
of course, she's also secretly in love with benedict which negates my argument.

i shall expect your mix cds shortly! 

Sunday, January 30, 2011

a statement:

i have found that i can internalize, compartmentalize and even sometimes utilize stress but eventually it finds a way out of my brain and, if i'm lucky, the stress leaks out in insignificant ways that don't actually affect my mental well-being.

what i'm saying is... i've discovered, like, ten 4-month sized grey hairs in the past week.

don't worry, i feel fine.
my hair's jumping on the stress grenade for me.

i'm going to go make an appointment at the hair salon now.
well, not "now" now.
because it's 12:30 in the morning.
but you get the point.

... leave me alone.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

one man's tadich

on christmas eve, my family had the ever-coveted "breakfast for dinner" dinner. it was fantastic. belgian waffles and this breakfasty casserole thing with eggs and hashbrowns and turkey bacon all mixed together and it was amazing. we were all feasting when mobro (i don't actually call him this but there's just no way i'm going to type "mohammad, my brother-in-law" thirty-seven times. i'd get carpal tunnel syndrome.) got really excited all of a sudden and said, "look at all this tadich!" and then scraped the burnt edges of the casserole onto his plate.

and ate it.

showing incredible deference to cultures not my own, i asked, "what the crap are you doing?"
and what the crap was he doing? well, i tell you.
you see, there's this persian dish called tadich. and basically, it's the burnt rice that gets stuck to the bottom of the pot when you cook it. if you live in america, land of affluence and quarterpounders, you throw it in the garbage. but if you grow up in iran, you get suckered into thinking it's a super special treat.
here's the recipe. step one: boil some rice. step two: forget about it until all the smoke alarms in your house go off. step three: scrape the rice out of the pot and convince someone it's awesome.
in my opinion, tadich is tom sawyer meets the emperor's new clothes.

i think you can see how tactfully i reacted to mobro's explanation of tadich.

here's the thing, i'm delighted by how many more lifestyle/cultural similarities there are than differences between a mormon utahn and a muslim tehranian. the two are actually eerily similar... except for the whole jesus thing.
it's the inconsequential differences that i find wild. a nation that thinks casserole crust is a tasty treat? that blows my mind.

now, some of you are probably thinking, "kat, it was christmas, the christian mega-holiday that somehow involves sucking up to a fat dude in a red suit. couldn't you show the same amount of cultural tolerance to mobro that he was showing to you by pretending to like 'white christmas?'"
valid question.
answer: no. no, i shouldn't.
because i am awesome and burnt rice is gross.

after i made fun of mobro he said, "are you going to make fun of me on the internet?"
and i was like, "look. when i write about you, i know you think i'm being mean and crusty, but actually, my words are a super special treat that you should relish."
and then i made him whitewash my fence.
and also i sold him an invisible suit.

i'm not really what you would call a "nice person."