Saturday, October 13, 2012


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.