Guilty Feet Have Got No Rhythm

Breasted and dangerous

2010-01-12T14:23:00.005-05:00

I just pounded my fists on my desk in agreement with this article by Lynn Harris on Salon, defintely one of the better articles I've read that just HITS IT with the experience of being a comic-con-vagina. Even on my rinky-dink local-comic scale.

From the article:

Her observation: "When a guy tells a story about an ex-girlfriend screwing him over, he gets laughs and maybe sympathy. When a girl tells a story about a guy screwing her over, she gets a lecture, or worse. The whole discussion becomes a referendum on women's sanity," she says. "I call this 'nice guy misogyny,'" she goes on. "Overt sexism is easy to deal with. Someone zings you, you zing him back. The real problem comes from the supposedly 'nice married guys' who secretly resent women for being on their turf and take it out on them in various subtle ways." In a place where personal misery becomes professional hilarity, everyone brings a back story of pain -- mommy issues, a nasty ex, hatred for the head cheerleader -- so perhaps it's especially easy to become a lightning rod when you're the only one in the room with two X chromosomes.

Petty annoyance #3,744:

2009-12-03T23:39:00.004-05:00

I really hate when the phrase "Oh Baby!" is used in mass media in reference to pregnancy/actual babies.

When this happens, I will read "Oh Baby!" I imagine, like, Marilyn Monroe cooing. Then I find the phrase followed by a pitch for a diaper's absorbency or pictures of pregnant celebrities. It is just abrupt, you know? If there was some graceful way to lead the mental imagery from a sexy-sex suggestion to a baby shitting, then maybe it would be okay to use, but that doesn't work for me.

Hm

2009-11-23T09:21:00.002-05:00

If a lumpy tube of meat had a small but very present cancerous growth at its top, it could double as the profile of my nude torso.

Karaoke

2009-11-23T07:53:00.002-05:00

Fuck, my throat feels bleedy.

Granola in the mail!

2009-11-09T20:09:00.006-05:00

I got granola in the mail. I hope no one poked a syringe full of disease in it. That would be tragic (right?) See, I only slept for 2 hours last night. I opened the package the granola came in. But I'm so tired I can't remember if the sticker sealing it shut looked as grimy as it did when I received the package. Had it been tampered with? I looked for little holes. I didn't see any, but my eyes are unreliable.

But I don't feel very useful right now so if I go via poisoned granola, so be it. Please destroy the files of my delicate short fiction and burn everything else. I want my funeral to go like this:

Just kidding. Please don't kill me.

This is why I slept for 2 hours. I will sound like an ass, but I want to share the good things. I had Proust Club (I mean, I promised I would start Swann's Way and then I have been reading other things that don't intimidate me so I didn't but then they asked me to come anyway and it was great.) I had two chocolate stouts on an empty stomach with the great conversation. When I came home I started Swann's Way. Then I got distracted by the internet because I wanted to look something up and someone posted this Raymond Carver story. Normally I'm not so much into him, but I liked it and it sort of reminded me of this Mary Gaitskill story (this version is a lil diff. from the version printed in Don't Cry), probably just because of the waitresses, the physicality, something like sexual currency, so there, who knows what my exhausted, mildly-drunk mind was a-cobbling, but there you go. Two nice stories. ENJOY.

FALAFEL+COFFEE MADE MY TUM HURTZ

2009-11-04T14:47:00.006-05:00

1. Old people - why do you push me into the tall bushes when we are walking opposite each other on the sidewalk? Don't confuse my youth with flexibility.

2. Pubs: I think we might have overdone it with the vampire books this season...!

3. How I love Mishima. He makes me so happily devastated.

Someone said something nice

2009-11-04T01:24:00.007-05:00

After deriding my age and sensing I was unhappy about that because I began to ignore him, a teenage boy assured me the other day that I am "cute, but in the same way that a brontosaurus is cute" and I wonder if that means I am still fuckable or just a dumpy, fraudulent assemblage of bones?

(I'm holding out hope for fuckable.)

Last Minute Request.

2007-11-21T22:45:00.000-05:00

Hello Internet,

So I realized that I absolutely must stow away some wine for the Thanksgiving getaway at the folks' house. (This is in preparation for the annual holiday review of the dead and dying in our familial and social circles.)

I only have two bottles on hand - red zinfandel and shiraz.

Which will better complement the taste of Tofurkey? Hm, should I even touch the Tofurkey and just shotgun the wine instead?

Thank you in advance for your input. Have a wonderful holiday.

Best,
Katie

Sometimes...

2007-11-15T13:01:00.001-05:00

There are days when I wish that I had larger breasts, and today is one of those days.

In Which I Engage in Dialogue with Mister Dog.

2007-11-01T11:52:00.000-04:00

And tragedy befalls us nigh.

Gaining Authority; Or: A Facial Experiment

2007-10-19T03:10:00.004-04:00

As I had my canine teeth removed, my smile registers no fear in the subconscious. (If you argue that my faces nearly evokes fear in that it evokes the Burkean sublime, well then, I took Romanticism in college too.)

Anyhow, as my face then lacks any inherent authority, because I am a fucking chubster with buck teeth, I sought to gain it with the most distinguished of all physical aids: glasses. Okay, second to monocle or a cane made of fire or something. What I did was I made an expression and photographed myself both un- and be-spectacled.

Analysis below:

EXPRESSION A.

Confusion.

Discernment.

EXPRESSION B.

Panic.

Realisation.

EXPRESSION C.

Naiveté.

Valiance.

EXPRESSION D.

Itchy.

Relaxed.

In conclusion:

(1) To gain authority, I must ruin my eyesight so that I might rightly own a pair of glasses. I could get the fake ones, but I prefer not to pose. Bad form. I publicly wore fake glasses once and found myself accidentally intriguing a gentleman* who, out of nowhere, whispered to me sweet nothings regarding Thomas Pynchon's newest novel at the time. But just not into T.P. (Fake) glasses said "Bitch likes some pomo lit."

(2) I mean, everyone knows the above is true in regard to glasses, but I am on my own journey of realization and if someone re-pointed out the truth in da Bible, would you take issue with THE BIG GUY?

(3) I'm a lot like that Emotion Eric guy but much prettier.

* - I slept with him anyway.

POLL: Which side of my face is prettier?

2007-10-04T16:10:00.000-04:00

LEFT

RIGHT

Here I am full on!