Good... And Good for You

three ish years ago, my roomates and i had a kramer. i refer to him as kramer because i don't remember his real name. i also referred to him as kramer three ish years ago because i never bothered to learn his real name. or where he lived. or if he had any family or friends. i just knew him as the little stray person who would randomly burst through the door and need to borrow our computer, or play my guitar, or show me pictures of some unknown punk band he staunchly idolized. eventually he stopped bursting in. which was fine because unlike seinfeld, my roomates and i had lives. i did run into him once at a battle of the bands thing and we he talked about how the last band had done an unspeakably lame cover of a weezer song but the next unknown punk band that he staunchly idolized was going to blow my mind and he had started a band consisting of him and a drummer and i was totally gonna have to come to one of their gigs. i'm writing this down so it won't take spotting him...

i like to think there's no shame in squealing like a small british school boy when you go to pick up a newspaper and there's a snake underneath it. i even think it's okay to go "eeps!" at the wasp hiding in the mail box. and when you open the front door and a spider jumps at you and goes "hiss! kathryn! hiss!", i think it's completely normal to call your daddy and tell him to drive 30 miles to kill it. and when he suggests you kill it yourself, it's fine to yell, "well who asked you mr. rational pants!" and hang up the phone. that's what i think. but who cares what i think, what will the neighbors think?

in trying to take advantage of my not-workingness, i went to a matinee. at a time when most people were participating in "the grind", i was enjoying an afternoon of cinema. i was the only person in the theater, which made me feel self conscious until i remembered that celebrities buy out entire theaters so they can see a movie. and they also build really swanky home theaters with recliners and pinball machines. so then i felt all pampered and famous and i wondered where my personal assistant had gone with my popcorn. (to jump from the topic, but not from the afternoon... when i went to buy my ticket i was all excited because it cost $4.75 and i'd get a quarter back and have enough change to buy a mountain dew and then the ticket lady was like, "would you like to donate your quarter to primary children's hospital?" of course i didn't think my caffeine fix was more important than sick children. of course i didn't begrudge the hospital my quarter. of co...

i am not a fashionista. i have never believed myself to be one. i've always had an inexplicable penchant for personalized t shirts. i used to wear stuff with sunflower print. i do in fact buy a good portion of my clothes at target. but... girls, even i can see that this year's trends are meant to make you look fat and tacky. don't wear them. i don't care what lindsay lohan's doing. and boys, ruffles are never ok. unless you're, like, an 18th century duke. or a member of the h.m.s. pinafore. and britney spears and kevin federline, there's no such thing as "derelict chic". stop spending $6000 on a hillbilly outfit. and britney especially, wear some pants. please. i'm tired of seeing your baby crowning.

behold the summertime byu rebellion period. i know it well. shaggy, uncut hair. cap sleeves. facial hair. lot's of facial hair. and people staying in apartments waaay past midnight.

would you please write my obligatory review of the new "star wars" movie for me? i'm too tired. in it, please make fun of the plot holes, hayden christensen's inability to act, george lucas' egomania, yada yada yada. point out my love of ewan mcgreggor, john williams music, and THE FORCE. and also r2d2. talk about how it's fun to imagine that r2's beeping is actually excessive profanity. also, please include a witty rebuff to the wookie-immitating preadolescents who sat next to me. something that makes fun of their inability to grow facial hair. you could say that, like, until they can grow a beard they shouldn't be imitating a wookie. i don't know. but, definitely say something.

at the moment when you realize that you are in fact one of " those girls" who wants what she can't have, is motivated by jealousy, likes to be liked, and that you have become what can only be described as an uber version of yourself, you can... a. try to grow as a person. b. accept that karmicly speaking you should die alone. c. buy a dog. now, i'm not admitting to uberkatness. i did go to the pet store today, though.

dear cary grant, you're bisexual??? are you kidding me? love, kat during last sunday's mother's day extravaganza i read parade magazine. and that's how i found out. by reading parade-freaking-magazine. i used to absolutely love "hello dolly" until i found out that barbra streisand and walter matthau hated each other. same with "dirty dancing". and now that i know rock hudson was gay i feel all awkward during the scenes when he's acting all seducey to doris day. richard chamberlain's gay which kind of spoils the whole "prince charming" effect in "slipper and the rose". and as much as i love "my fair lady", finding out that that's not really audrey hepburn's voice spoiled it for me. i understand the miracle of acting. i get that people don't randomly burst into song, or have an innate profficiency in dance. i think i'm pretty good at suspending reality for the sake of cinematic entertainment. but th...