Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Kat's LiveJournal:

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Friday, November 9th, 2007
6:15 pm	I have a real blog now: http://www.platkat.com. You should read it. I'd love to hear from anyone who has ideas for how I can dump my LJ stuff into Blogger.com (without individually cutting and pasting). Better yet, how to write it once and have it post to both (is that possible for the average blogger?). Advice is much appreciated! (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, May 9th, 2006
2:46 pm	To Travel Is Better than to Arrive So often does that phrase ring true. Blogger has done me wrong yet another time, so I'm slummin' it on livejournal. Hear me roar! Once again, where have I been? Oklahoma A few Fridays ago, I flew up to Oklahoma City to see Gus after his business trip. A quick, weekend-warrior flight was my plan, and everyone else's. The gate was packed. Still, why stand when you can sit? I found an empty chair and plopped down in it. "Excuse me. Someone is sitting there," a waify blond woman in her thirties informed me. Her tone implied that I should have known this even though there was nothing indicating that the seat was occupied. So, I muttered a half-assed apology and scooted to the next seat, which I made an extra effort to be sure was not taken. Moments later, blondie's friend comes back and blondie exclaims something to the effect of, "It's just so crowded in here! And people were trying to take your seat!" I politely turned to the woman and said, "Once again, I'm sorry, I didn't know the seat was taken." And before I even got that sentence out, her friend goes, "She's kidding! She's just kidding!" Ha, I should have known. That was fucking hilarious. Does she have her own comedy routine? Maybe a late night cable show? Actually, I'd be really interested in hearing some more of her material if it's as high-quality as that little gem. It's amazing how enough people think that bleaching your hair out and making yourself vomit after every meal somehow entitles you to a free pass to act like a fucking cunt rag. I am continually amazed in general that people say really rude stuff to complete strangers, stuff that isn't clever or witty at all, and honestly believe in their own shriveled underused waste of brains that it can somehow be contrived as a joke. On the plane, this shitfaced old woman sat down next to me. She looked like she'd spent a few too many days in the sun and had no intentions of letting up. She wore the kind of sundress you buy in the beach for ten bucks and looks like it's made of rags. From Dallas to OKC, all she could talk about is how much American Airlines sucks. She ordered a glass of vodka (as she had brought her own Red Bull aboard the plane) and spilled half of it on my feet. Then she went into this huge diatribe about how Southwest is better because they sing songs to you when you land and the flight attendants are nice. Apparently, she'd gotten into it with an American Airlines flight attendant who failed to serve her an alcoholic beverage. I couldn't imagine how such a thing could ever happen. (However, after recently receiving this e-mail from American Airlines regarding a traveling debacle from a month ago, I'm about ready to give up on those assholes too.) She also got into this long-winded speech about how she only buys 400 thread count sheets because the quality is so much better. I guess it was an attempt at a normal, non-controversial discussion, but it just supported my growing case that the woman was a motherfucking psycho. OKC was just how I left it. Hot, flat, and full of warm, squishy feelings that only I seem to have for the place. I got into a chat with this buffalo. I think he had a tendency to exaggerate. New York We spent a weekend in the city, hanging out mostly in Manhattan. Something about the trip reminded me of our city's cute little saying, "Keep Austin Weird." Austin is weird in a "My shoes are mismatched and I'm carrying a multicolored umbrella" sort of way. New York is weird in a "Strapped to a piss-stained matress and locked in an asylum, screaming your head off at the miscellaneous bloody limbs on the floor" sort of way. Let's not forget that, shall we? We were on Canal Street when we saw this huge anti-war protest: So we joined it: Chicago I went to the O'Hare Airport twice. I miss Chicago. *sniffle* Toledo Oh no, not this shit again. Oh yes, this shit... again. I worked four times as hard and had one-fourth of the fun that I had the last time I went, and that's being generous. The big pitfall of my last trip there was that we all kept getting lost because Ohio is a satellite location of hell on earth and its impossible to navigate. I didn't get lost at all until it the most important time ever to know exactly where you're going: the time that you get to go home. I overshot the airport on 80/90 and found myself on my way to Cleveland. Not awesome. I nearly started crying in my little rented Chevy Cobalt that I could only make go about 80 mph. I ended up getting to the airport with about five minutes to spare. Just enough time to get eggs and bacon on a biscuit. Although my lateness was due to the fact that I was in such a podunk shithole in the first place, I was glad that I was leaving from a podunk shithole airport, since anywhere larger wouldn't have let me on the flight being that late. I guess things have a way of working out in the end. iPod Status: Unopened. Current Mood: moody Current Music: Naked Music - Lost on Arrival (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, June 20th, 2005
2:02 pm	Weekend Weekend Bo Beekend Temporarily housing this post in LiveJournal, since blogger is being a contankerous twat right now. Expecting to do nothing on Friday, I ended up going to the Friday social at work with a couple of people who sit near me. While I was hanging out there, Damon buzzed me to see if I wanted to go back to 1015. I liked the crowded, multi-room "rave cave" (thanks, Fiona), so I said yes and we took off. Unfortunately, I had this massive cystic zit from hell on my cheek and it was still healing. I solved this problem by wearing huge black sunglasses that covered most of my face all night. Yes, I was one of those lame fuckers who wears sunglasses inside. Since I don't even try to pretend that I'm cool, I figured it was okay and better than sporting some giant zit all night. Also, I was surrounded by ostentatious hair colors, intricately assembled outfits, and attention-whore accessories (hula hoops??), so I felt as though my antics would be barely noticeable. But no, I still got flack for the sunglasses. "Oh it's so bright in here," moaned some I-just-moved-from-the-suburbs-to-be-a-rockstar-in-the-city asswipe. I should have picked off my scab and made him eat it. At one point in the evening, I was on the dancefloor when some jerk walked by and we knocked shoulders. He gave me the look of death, and although he couldn't see it, I gave him the look of, "Tough shit, you're on a dancefloor" and kept dancing. Are there actually people in this world who expect people to clear a path for them for no other reason than they want to walk by? I didn't know that guy from Adam and the club was crowded. Yeah, there's gonna be some human contact involved. If you don't like it, stay home. Or at least stay off the dancefloor. Damon spent most of the night in the pillow room way upstairs and chilled. I'd been drinking rum and cokes all night (we got started at an 80s nostalgia bar down the street), so I left my purse behind a big stuffed tiger and danced elsewhere. Unfortunately, when I needed another drink, I couldn't find my way back to the pillow room, so I had to solicit people for info. "If I were looking for a giant tiger with pillows in front of it, which way would I go?" I eventually found Damon, got bored (again, I wasn't in the mood for sitting), and went to the breezeway to have a cigarette. There I met some Irish guys who kept asking me why I was wearing sunglasses. So I kept asking them why there were so many goddamn Irish people in San Francisco. They were on vacation and looking for an afterhours club. I told them about VXN, but could not find any more information. I ended up walking around some and their ringleader followed me. But I was like, "Dude, I don't know." And one other guy in the Irish pack was mad because I spilled his drink which he left unattended on a ledge in a dark room after 2:00. Prepositions are great. Damon and I left pretty early. The music was starting to grate on him and I wasn't loving it as much as last time. We couldn't find anywhere to eat near 101, so we went to McDonald's. Yuuuuuck. I totally hate that place and immediately remembered why after they wouldn't let me substitute a milkshake for a coke as part of a value meal even though it was their entire ad campaign a couple years ago. I went without the shake and begrudgingly ate the quarterpounder, feeling the awkwardness of cheap meat being masticated by my jaw. Fuck you, McDonald's! The morals of this story are don't eat at McDonald's, dance on the dancefloor, and don't mess around with girls in big dark sunglasses. They're nothing but trouble. Current Mood: okay Current Music: Le Wax Radio from Paris (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 3rd, 2004
6:47 pm	The Uh-Oh's and No-No's for Poker Ho's 1. If you plan to dictate the results of a questionable hand, make sure you're right. 2. If you plan to dictate the results of a questionable hand, make sure you are an active member that is playing at the table in question. 3. If you plan to dictate the results of a questionable hand, and you decide not to obey Rule 1 OR Rule 2, make sure you have at least watched the hand, and the betting, from beginning to end. 4. Playing out of turn does not intimidate the person in front of you. Rather, it gives that player extra information that puts him at an advantage. 5. Dropping hints about your bisexuality at the poker table and reneging on them does not impress anyone. Rather, it reveals a passive-aggressive characteristic of a player who bets large to be threatening, but folds under pressure. 6. Touching other players' cards is illegal when you are not in the game. 7. Touching other players' chips is illegal when you are not in the game. 8. Discussing hands with players and reacting to their decisions is illegal when you are not in the game. 9. Yelling at the table captain does not win you respect. 10. Yelling at members of the table does not win you respect. 11. Lateness is not a virtue. As the poker league nowhere near over, this list will probably grow. It upsets me that a game I love is being tarnished by a miserable hillbilly. Fortunately, my team is doing absurdly well. We're first in our division. And me? I'M doing beyond absurdly well. In 4 games, I've taken 4th, 1st, 2nd, and 1st places. I am now prepared to clobber the universe. At poker. I will be the best poker player (named Kat Taylor) in the WORLD!! (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, March 4th, 2004
2:25 pm	The Day of Stains Alternate title: Goddammit! This morning, I found a spot of dirt on my shirt, probably from closing my umbrella earlier that day. I noticed it while at the dentist's office, so I figured a trip home en route to work would take care of that. And it did. By the time I got to work, it was nearing lunchtime. My boyfriend told me that our group's managers had bought wings from Pluckers for all the software folks who were working late tonight... and tech writers, just 'cause we're nice to have around, I guess. My boyfriend and I see eye-to-eye on the issue of wings: they're messy, small, and not worth the effort. So we ate downstairs. Rather, he ate and I watched him since half my mouth was numb from having a filling replaced at the dentist. Come 2 o'clock though, I was starting to get hungry. I ate a sammich that Gus made me yesterday, but it was soggy. I needed more food. I spotted the wings in the oasis by the elevators. Having no plate or napkin, I picked up 2 wings and carried them to my desk. Barbecue sauce dripped on me. Not once. But twice. FUCK. So now I have these two big fucking stains on my jeans. I'm glad I don't have any meetings today. In fact, I really don't want to leave my desk at all. One stain, you're clumsy. Okay. Two stains the size of nickels on either leg? You're a fucking slob that shouldn't be allowed in public. I'm wondering if I should go back for more. I mean, if I'm gonna look all nasty for the rest of the day AND spend some of my evening washing the nasty stain out of these jeans, I should eat as many wings as possible so it's worth it! Current Mood: messy Current Music: Gus Gus - Attention (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 24th, 2003
4:35 pm	Viva Fat Free Ranch Dressing! I finally found some decent fat free ranch dressing and I didn't have to go all the way to Hickory Street this time. I actually got it from the cafeteria at work. Usually the fat free dressing at work is nasty and should be used to intoxicate rhodents. But this, my friends... THIS was different. Unfortunately, I picked up a packet of the 20-grams-of-fat-per-bite caesar dressing as well and put that on my salad first. Yuck. Then I figured fat free yuck would be better, so I ate the dressing-covered parts and proceeded to apply the ranch dressing to my greens. Oh baby! I had to go downstairs and get more! So I ate two packets of this dressing (I was ready to eat three or more), all the while wondering if I liked it so much because I'd just eaten crappy caesar dressing or because I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday and I'd spent my lunch break running seven miles (no shit!). Anyway, you can disregard this great advice, but if you come across Ken's Steakhouse Fat Free Ranch Dressing, you'd best snatch it up and cover your next salad/pizza/bread stick/dead animal with it. Current Mood: excited Current Music: Fila Brazillia - Old Codes/New Chaos (Comment on this)
Friday, January 31st, 2003
12:46 pm	Stupid Stupid Stupid! I just did something very stupid today that is going to cost me $2200 and some change. I need to set up a stupid fund, so whenever I do something stupid I can reach in there and pull out what I need. Since I will have set up a fund ahead of time, the ridiculously stupid things I do won't seem like such a big deal. Well, that's pretty stupid... How will I obtain money to put into my stupid fund? While always taking donations, I will add a large chunk of my semi-weekly paycheck to the fund everytime I even think about doing something stupid. For instance, if began to think day-trading was a viable career option for me - $50. If I started dating a man twice my age and decided that getting serious was a good idea - $100. Still living with my ex - $200. Chatting too much at work - $100. Drinking beer after liquor - $50. The list goes on and on. But this way, when I do something stupid like crash my cherry-red sweetness into a concrete wall going 10 miles an hour, I'll have loads of extra cash lying around 'cause I was so freakin' STUPID!!! Current Mood: STUPID! Current Music: The stupid kind, like the C+C MusicFactory tapes in my Camry (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 29th, 2003
6:01 pm	I chose a really shitty time to get depressed. I just started an awesome job where I'm surrounded by kind, supportive, brilliant people (seriously!) and I have the best view in the cube farm on the 7th floor. My freelance project (a local magazine) is about to release its first issue with me as editor. Also lining my pockets is a continuous low-stress web gig for my old employer. My friends are cool. I'm dating some people. I don't daydream about killing family members or myself. Compared to a few years ago, this an improvement beyond all belief. My life has glitches, but all the important shit is in place. I'm smart, attractive, healthy... and I have all my limbs, which is super-cool. But I'm not happy. I don't know what my deal is. Maybe it's the weather. Or maybe I need a dog. But I don't want a dog. It would shit all over my apartment and then I wouldn't be depressed, I'd just be mad. Current Mood: depressed Current Music: Unreleased Miguel Migs (Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 8th, 2003
12:08 pm	Roller Rink Dilemma Okay, this situation left a bad taste in my mouth, and I want to see if it's as foul as I think it is, or if I'm just being stupid. I've been out on a couple of dates with this guy Josh. I noticed him sweating the price of our nice dinners at Louie's 106 and Eddie V's, so I asked him out for a pleasant evening of six-dollar rollerskating heaven. Playland hosts Adult Skate Night every Tuesday, and I've been going there with my friends for ages. So, I bring this guy and we skate and it's fun. The next week, he goes with his "friends." He doesn't invite me, but tells me about it afterward. "Oh, I figured I'd see you there." Yeah, whatever. I let it go. But last night, for the first time in awhile, I go skating to meet my good friends, Jack and Jeanine, whom I hadn't seen in three weeks because they were vacationing in Chicago. Josh is there. He keeps trying to talk to me, but it's always a bad time, as I wanted to catch up with my good buddies. Eventually, we start talking. I'm assuming that his "friends" are a hodge-podge of guys and girls he threw together to bring to this cool thing he'd discovered (soooo Christopher Columbus). I ask, "So who are you here with?" He answers, "Ohhh... my friends April and Lindsey." I noticed him flirting with some chicks after I'd ignored him the first half of the skate, which I guess was fair enough, but knowing that he *brought* those chicks to flirt with began to annoy me. Furthermore, our conversation was interrupted by a girl who said, "Hi, I'm Wendy. You don't know me, I'm just here to let you know that your friends want to leave." Okay, time-the-fuck-out. If they're his "friends," why aren't they telling him they want to leave themselves? And why would they want to leave if they saw their "friend" talking to another girl? Why not stop and say hi? After all, they're friends... So I left and went to Kerbey with Jack and Jeanine. They were still skating. I don't really care if Josh is seeing other people. Shit, I'm seeing like eight other people and one of them is taking me to Puerto Rico on Friday. But I'm discreet about it. His bringing girls to a place that *I* took him to, where he knows I'll be is rude and immature, in my opinion. Like he's trying to prove something. Even though I'm not hard-up for men, I'm disappointed that someone I thought was okay ended up doing something so dumb. Any thoughts? Current Mood: disappointed Current Music: The Strokes - Last Night (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, December 19th, 2002
5:06 pm	Life is funny, but not at the Capitol City Comedy Club I visited this so-called purveyor of witticism on Tuesday night with a nice male friend. Since we arrived on the later side, the only tables available were near the stage. I expressed my apprehension about sitting near the stage, but it was a nice alternative to sitting on the floor or in the laps of strangers. Being two young people near the stage, we were very easy for the first comic who was not funny at all to pick on. He asked us if we were dating. Let's say for the sake of the argument that we are.... It was our second date!! Anyway, it took us a few minutes to figure that one out and then he decided to get cute and quiz each of us on what the other one's name was. No one laughed because "Kat" and "David" are not very funny. Then he moved onto more complicated questions like, "What attracted you to Kat?" My poor friend didn't know what to say, so he said what any guy would have said: "Her looks." I think a short pause preceeded that too. (erg) "Look at her, she's fuckin' hot!" would have been a much better answer, but I guess I was red enough already. What made this incident more embarrassing than it needed to be was the fact that a girl I know who knows my ex-boyfriend and all of my friends (that I met through my ex) was also in the audience. Although my ex knows I'm dating people, I'd rather he not know the detailed story of the most uncomfortable one I've been on lately. No, wait! I can think of a more uncomfortable recent date, but no one was around to see the damage, so I can pretend it didn't actually happen. But I'll tell the story anyway 'cause it seems kinda funny now. I met this guy online and he said, "Let's meet after work at the Korea House." And I was all, "Okay, I'll be at the Koreana House at 8! See ya there!" So I high-tail it from my Feedback meeting all the way up north to Koreana off of I-35. I go in, look at a nice, appetizing menu, take in the modest but tasteful ambience, and then I go, "Oh shit, I don't think I'm supposed to be at this one!" So I ended up calling KoreA house from KoreANA to get directions to this crusty little strip-mall dump on Anderson Lane. He assumed I had a phone and was a little annoyed that I didn't call him when I knew I'd be late. (Hear this, dickhead: No Phone.) And I assumed that I would be eating good sushi that night, but in that case, I was wrong. But just to be nice, I sat there pretending that I had never had totally kickass sushi at Peony or Pango and that I'd rather be at home watching M*A*S*H* reruns than sitting in this dive sushi bar. He also ordered sake for us to drink, which I totally hate, but I guess that's like bitchin' about the yardwork when the house is on fire. Anyway, for your amusement, there are two less-than-perfect dates from Kat. I've been on some TERRIBLE ones, but only one recently. There isn't much to tell. Loser just took me to a party with a buncha high school chicks and retarded dudes at it. I had a beer and made him take me home. And he wonders why he can't find a decent woman. Current Mood: cynical Current Music: Cafe del Mar Volume 7 (Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 20th, 2002
3:12 pm	I did it all for the cobbler Yeah! I finally got a job offer from National Instruments. After about 10 interviews and 5 rejection letters, dozens upon dozens of resumes and cover letters and no responses, this is just what I needed! I actually got an offer from a telecommunications company about a month ago, but base pay was $12/hr. Laughable, even for me. That's what I make now... and all I have to do is chill at the computer and eat an entire tray of peach cobbler. There was some punk-ass meeting for all the punk-asses at TSTA, so I've been munching on the leftovers. I polished off the potato salad yesterday, so today's choices were beef (dry, yucky) and cobbler (sweet, peachy). Soon, I'm going to my boss's house to walk his dog and raid his kitchen. They don't usually have anything because they're old and Jewish, so I'm bringing some reinforcements just in case: graham crackers, dried apricots, a banana, grapes, yogurt, and a can of refried beans. And before I'm accused of being a racist (I happen to adore my boss and his wife), I'll mention that Shaya (wife) doesn't eat much because of her chemotherapy and I think they prefer kosher meats. I, on the other hand, think the bounty of Satan is much tastier. He's the president and CEO of Frito Lay. Oh yeah, I have some doritos here that I snagged from the meeting. Better take those to his house too. Post and pre-cobbler, I had lunch at the Texas Chili Parlour with a guy named Bill who is starting a company, CompleteTranslations.com. I ate some kind of funky chicken enchiladas. They weren't Chuy's or anything, just your typical Mexican fare. Well, it's not like Chuy's is really that authentic, but they use higher quality ingredients than most Mexican restaurants. Damn, this shit is starting to upset my stomach. I may have to change my tune to, "I did it all for the pepto." Ugghhhh. Current Mood: anxious Current Music: (the latest) Back to Mine: The Orb (sweeeeet!) (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 5th, 2002
4:11 pm	Oh yeah, I have an online journal too Today my boss and I were yakkity-yakkin' (as we spend most of our days) and he brought up his current family feud. Apparently, his daughter-in-law decided to start a live journal for the sole purpose of slamming him and his wife. His wife read it against my boss's wishes, and what started our talk in the first place was whether or not she had any visitor-tracking devices hooked up to it (or could she in the first place). He really doesn't want to give his psycho daughter-in-law the pleasure of knowing she has an audience. However, some random person commenting on one of her entries suggested that *she's* the one with the problems, not my boss and his wife. And I'd have to agree. They're the most docile people in the world. Anyway! Glad I'm not faced with so much drama. My parents and I don't exactly get along, but I have enough other shit to worry about without trying to win every petty control battle my mom starts. Lately, I've been big on health. Pretty crazy for someone who's so obsessed with food, no? I've been running at least 8 miles a day on the elipse and treadmill (about half on each) and lifting weights to strengthen my muscles. I'm really afraid that I'm going to get bigger from lifting weights, even though lifting is an essential component to healthy weight-loss/body-sculpting. I use the gym in my apt. complex, so I don't have enough of a variety, which could be a problem later on. Much like my deep-rooted obsession with bacon. But, so far, so good. I feel REALLY good. And I look pretty good too. I ran a 5K on Sunday and it was one of the most positive experiences I've had in a very long time. I didn't start this huge health-kick to lose weight (although I would like to get rid of that funk on the back of my legs), I started exercising because I'm fucking stressed as shit about finding a job. In a funny way, it has really helped. I have a lot of energy and I've had 6 interviews and 3 more coming up. I hope an actual job comes from one of these. Nine is a pretty good pool to choose from. I want to move. I like Austin, but I need to live somewhere else now. It's been over two years and I'm starting to get bored. I need to go further west. The dry weather and prospect of a beach would greatly boost my spirit. Current Mood: hopeful Current Music: In House: Modern House Sounds from Deepest Germany (Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 15th, 2002
5:42 pm	Another food-day at work They're having some more day-long boring-ass meetings here, which means they're serving something that should pass as lunch. Being poor and starving, I had to take advantage. "But Kat, it's dinnertime," the more astute of you comment. Yes, I didn't hear about the food until my boss came up about an hour ago and it dawned on me... food! This came at an especially good time because I have a Feedback meeting to attend before I go home. The meetings are now held at Starseeds. I like the food there, but I can't afford to eat out right now. "But Kat, everything on the menu is under ten dollars," the more cultured of you say. Yeeeeeah, shut up. It's not an option, okay? So I went down to the meetin' room to grab me'self some grub. A sad situation awaited me. All that was to be down there in the first place were potatoes and "fixins". But there were no potatoes left, so now I'm eating "fixins". (Didn't we have a few presidents who considered that a food group?) Anyway, there was some chili-type stuff and shredded cheese, which I stuffed into a cup. The chili is fine (so it's probably like 30 grams of fat per serving) but the cheese needs some work. Now, being poor, I know what generic cheese tastes like and that shit is gourmet compared to this sub-par cheese. But I'm eating it, right? Odds and ends are where it's at. I found odds: fruit (very odd to see someone eating fruit at TSTA). And ends: teddy grams. So I snagged all the leftover bite-sized bears and I'm set on bananas for the next week. In other food news, today I learned the new craze is to deep fry twinkies. Okay, fatass. If it'll make you happy. Current Mood: unsympathetic Current Music: The Orb - Little Fluffy Clouds (Adam Freeland's Tsunami RMX) (Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 7th, 2002
1:34 pm	The Lost Art of Sandwich-Making Today I woke up at 11:30, hungover as shit. After chatting online for awhile, I went into my kitchen, but found nothing appealing. Being hungover allows one to be quite picky about food and I decided that I needed a nice big sandwich from Subway. As I began my quest, I recognized my first bad move: I was going to the one next to Double Dave's on Duval because of its accessible parking and convenient location. This Subway has only spicy mustard, not regular. Already, my sandwich would be flawed, yet I was willing to accept the inferior condiment, as my arrival time at work would already be after 1:30. Unfortunately, the spicy mustard is not the only problem with my sandwich. There's this Mexican lady who works at the Subway on Duval and she has no clue how to make a sandwich. When she put cheese on the sandwich, she didn't evenly arrange the slices on the bread. I don't think she put the standard amount of meat on it either. But the WORST thing she did was put the lettuce on LAST. What the fuck? She's supposed to be a Sandwich Artist. There's a reason the lettuce and tomato are at one end and the pickles, onions, and green peppers are at the other. So, after topping it off with my usual salt, pepper, oil, and vinegar, my sandwich tastes mostly like vinegar because it soaked into the lettuce which is all at the TOP. I'm still eating it, since a Subway sandwich is never bad. But I should have known not to go to that Subway because that Mexican lady has made my sandwich before. And even though it was nighttime and no one else was there, she still hurriedly threw everything on it and hopped from one foot to another while I got out my wallet and paid. I could go off on a racist rant at this point, but it's not worth it. I will calmly eat my vinegarey sandwich instead. Current Mood: frustrated Current Music: Momus - MC Escher (Comment on this)
Monday, June 10th, 2002
1:42 pm	So many questions... How come cockroaches are always found dead on their backs? I mean, when they get blasted with a can of Raid, are they like, "Oh shit, I'm gonna die now so I better get comfortable"? Or is it like a warning signal for other cockroaches, as if to say, "Look guys, I'm not just sleeping, I'm dead. And you better get the fuck outta here before you die too"? In a separate vein, how come people write "yours" at the end of e-mails? Even "sincerely yours" doesn't make a whole lot of sense. My what? I usually get those from people I hardly know, and they're already informally written e-mails on top of that, so I guess my question is "why?" Should I just go home? I'm not doing anything productive. But I'm quite happy to have found someone who takes food as seriously as I do. Current Mood: curious Current Music: A continuous DJ mix by Scottie B (surprisingly excellent!) (Comment on this)
Tuesday, May 21st, 2002
1:16 pm	Food Obsession Maybe it's not even an obsession with food. I just like shit I know isn't for me. I think that's true for most people though - your friends' moms always stocked all the best munchies, your friends always had the best games, etc. I haven't grown out of it. Other people's food always tastes better. They're having a meeting downstairs with all kindsa snacks, but I didn't take any because the snacks seem like a rite of passage for only the people with the stamina to sit through that long, boring meeting. Besides, Charles brought me a brownie to stave off any urge I'll have to snag other people's eats. He's real intuitive that way. One day, this problem is going to get me busted for something big, like stealing from a bank. Except it won't be for all the money inside, it'll be because I liked the window display and wanted it for myself, or some such stupid shit. Perhaps I should seek psychological help for this unabashed greediness, but since I don't even have a full-time job right now, I think I'll hold off. Current Mood: indifferent Current Music: Merrick 'n Tyler's 4/20 Tag-Team DJ Mix (Comment on this)
Friday, April 26th, 2002
10:37 am	The Jelly Donut Conflict Actually, there were two. The first one (man vs. self) involved a 30-minute internal debate over whether I should take the last jelly donut that was on the TSTA ladies' food-table. (The same table where I found the shitty muffin, incidentally.) I was not particularly hungry and there's that old phrase, "Nothing tastes as good as looking good feels." I know one jelly donut won't be the end of me, but eating junk is habit-forming. But I haven't had a jelly donut in a long time, so this would have brought back many memories I've had over the years in which jelly donuts played a major role. For instance, when I was little and my parents used to drag me to church, the only positive thing about being told I was going to hell for an hour was getting to eat jelly donuts afterwards. So I made up my mind. I was gonna go for it. I was going to eat The Last Jelly Donut. Conflict two, (man vs. man). Maria (a.k.a. the bitch who threw away much lunch last month) was filing stuff when I went to grab the donut... and feeling I had nothing to lose, I grabbed the donut in plain sight. Well, I lost the donut. "Put that back, that’s not yours!" she said in her loud, shrill, unplaceable but very noticeable accent. And we proceeded to argue about whether the food on that table was for everyone or just the TSTA ladies. Everyone else was in a meeting, which is what I think gave her the cajones to yell at me and the reason no one rushed to my defense. Because in all honesty, no one on this floor could really give a shit whether or not I eat a donut. I should actually thank Maria for making the decision for me. I see what having an all-access pass to the food-table has done for her figure over the years and trust me, it ain’t pretty. Arguably, there are three conflicts. I am experiencing the third (man vs. nature) right now, as I have become a bit hungry, but it is too early to eat my lunch. A donut would be a good mid-morning snack. But that’s probably what Maria thought too and look at her now. *shudder* Current Mood: angry Current Music: Bjork/Christian Vogel - Modern Things (Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 10th, 2002
2:50 pm	This morning, I found two bags of Doritos. I plan to save them for a movie screening I will attend later tonight. I went to Richard's office mid-afternoon to see what TSTA's DNS's are and got some Hershey's kisses, which I ate right away. Life is funny that way. Anyway, Sarah came in about an hour ago and I was just in her office and we were yakkin. She said she went to 7-11 to get a coke, but got a coffee-slurpie type thing instead and now regrets it. She said it was too sweet and I, of course, asked her if I could offer my expert opinion, which would require my sampling the beverage. The first sip was not bad. (It never is.) However, as I drank more, I found it to be not only sweet, but bitter. Bittersweet, if you will. Moveover, it had that certain taste, a common quality of most things purchased at a gas station, the taste of something flat and stale with an overpowering flavor to compensate. I know it's a gas station, so I shouldn't expect Starbucks. But there's always that hope that if you hit a place at the right time, no matter how cheap its products are or how bad its reputation is for certain things (i.e. hot dogs at Circle K, need I say more?), there's always that hope that some quality product will spring forth and it can be enjoyed like a well-kept trivial secret. Current Mood: okay Current Music: Towa Tei - Let Me Know (Comment on this)
Friday, March 22nd, 2002
1:16 pm	Today I came to work hungover with no lunch. Since I showed up around lunchtime, I promptly began my search for something to eat. I found a muffin. I grabbed it like the vending machine claw grabs those cheesy stuffed animals. *yoink* But I didn't drop it. I opened it and ate it. At first it was tasty. But I now that I'm done eating the top, it's just not doing it for me anymore. In fact, it's sitting in my stomach like a rock. What the hell? How DARE someone leave such a shitty muffin out in the open for me to steal? Well, it's chocolate chip. That may have something to do with it. Current Mood: discontent Current Music: The Recliners - The Way You Look Tonight (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, December 18th, 2001
11:11 am	If I were Jesus, I'd hate my birthday A lady at work gave me a present, so I had to get her something last night. She's a nice lady, and I didn't mind picking something up for her. But now my boss just got me some poinsettas and I need to find him an equally nice gift for about 8 dollars, since that's all the cash I have right now. I think the only reason my boss got me anything was because he saw the lady get me something, so he assumed that I "do" Christmas. Well I don't do Christmas! I hate Christmas! I hate how I'm going to be visiting my boyfriend's parents soon and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to get them something or not. I hate the fact that they might get me something and I'm going to hate it. I wish Christmas were more like Halloween. Instead of giving people presents like the three wise men gave stuff to Jesus, why can't we just dress up like the three wise men and Jesus or some other biblical character? Then we could all make birthday cakes for Jesus and go house-to-house sampling them. We could have Jesus parties and eat Jesus candy. Good idea, Kat! I'm throwing myself a goddamn Jesus party!! Current Mood: pessimistic Current Music: Trippin' Daisy - I Got a Girl (1 Comment |Comment on this)