I woke up at 5:30 the other morning after having a very strange dream where the ginger kid from Salute Your Shorts was now grossly obese and was stalking me at the convenience store I worked at. Why was he stalking me? Because the dream version of me had ACTUALLY GONE to Camp Annawanna. How fucking cool is that? I wish I could tell people I went to Salute Your Shorts Camp. But, Dream Kat also works at a convenience store, and that's fucking sad. BUT! Apparently at this dream convenience store I work at, I get free unlimited Arizona Iced Teas.
Just thinking about it is getting me all worked up.
The first day of school is always bullshit. No parking, awkward and clumsy kids fumbling around campus looking all bright-eyed and bushy tailed. I give those little bastards a month before they're dragging ass to the nearest coffee cart while they consider the pros and cons of dropping out and getting a full time job instead of crawling out of bed at 6:00 am and pulling yourself up four flights of stairs for an 8:oo am Cultural Anthropology class that you know you're going to either zone out or sleep through anyway.
Look at me, ever the optimist. But this isn't my first rodeo and this certainly isn't my last. How sad for me. I'm such a bitter, cynical old bitch. And then people say "Oh, Kat's so nice! Ohhhh, Kat's so funny! OOOOHHH she's so helpful!" When, really, they're too stupid to realize that I'm making fun of them.
Ah, I'm going to hell.
The bestie says I'm being extra funny today, and I don't feel funny at all. This obviously means I'm headed for a violent mood swing where I sleep too much and lay in bed listening to The Smiths , all the while I'm screaming at the top of my lungs for the housekeeper to bring more oreos and peanut butter. When I'm not yelling for treats I'm yelling "AND IF A DOUBLLLE DECKEEERRRR BUUUUSSSS CRAAAAASHES INTO UUUUUUUS. TO DIE BY YOOOUUUUUURRRRR SIIIIIIIIDE, WELL THE PLEASURRRRE AND PRIVILEEEEEGE IS MIIIIIINE" in an obnoxious falsetto with red lipstick on and my bangs pinned into a makeshift pompadour. But, we don't have a housekeeper anymore, which means I'd have to get my own oreos and peanut butter, and that takes all the fun out of it.
If I had the ability - nay, the willpower - to stop listening to the same seven bands I've had on repeat for almost the last month, I would totally listen to that right now. But Morrissey and Johnny Marr ain't no Dan and Alan, so those mopey British fucks can suuuuuck iiit.
NONSEQUITUR !
Courtesy of Facebook chat:
KAT: Is it just me, or is Launey getting fat?
KAT: Also, Lainey seems to be getting quite portly, no?
DENISE: Yeah, they're both fucking heffers
KAT: It's because all Austrians have the Augustus Gloop gene
KAT: Fat fucks.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
What a pussy
There is nothing I love more in this world than going through old livejournal, deadjournal, blogspot, myspace blog, friendster bulletin, and xanga entries. Laughing and how wonderfully poetic and existential I thought I sounded. Truth: I was, like, 16 and had no idea what the fuck I was talking about.
Even now, I'm going to look back on this in a few years and laugh at how forcedly nonchalant I seem. Why the fuck do I keep starting these things? Probably because I can't even remember what I had for breakfast, let alone what I did last week. (EDITOR'S NOTE: That's bullshit, last week was GIGLIFE and it was fucking gnarly as all hell. Time of my life, bro, for serious)
Moving on, these usually help me remember what a crossroads I'm at in my life at the moment. Right now I'm regretting eating two cheeseburgers in one day. Captain's Burger at the Olde Ship for lunch and a Double Double for dinner. What the fuck was I thinking? As much as I love feasting on dairy and the flesh of the innocent, it makes me bloat and ultimately curled in the fetal position from stomach cramps. You see, as much as I would love to be a vegetarian, I have a violent iron deficiency that would lead me to commit unspeakable crimes against humanity if I don't have a burger at least once a week. Also, I love yogurt, cheese, milk and ice cream (among a multitude of other dairy products) but moments after consuming said treats, I'm crippled my stomach cramps and the feeling that a poltergeist is trying to escape from deep in my gut.
But enough of my intestinal soap opera.
The bestie and I did GIGLIFE last week. A mega-tour of our favorite bands we'd been planning to follow for three consecutive nights. We bough tickets in May. Needless to say, we were stoked.
NIGHT ONE: San Diego, Wednesday, August 19
Probably the worst night of the three. The crowd was half spanish-speaking and half douchey scene kids. I don't think I've seen so many bad haircuts in one place since I hung out with those sad kids from high school. The crowd was terribly unreceptive, which made me feel like a retard when I got stoked for every band that came on. Super stoked for Polar Bear Cub, since it was my first time seeing them live. Not disappointed at all. Ok, I lied, I was incredibly pissed the first night because they didn't play my jam, Most Miserable Life. Bastards. FYS brought the noise, as usual, I love seeing them live. Set Your Goals was amazing, they're always amazing. I've never been disappointed by those bay area sons of bitches. Still, it felt like there were a total of about seven people in all of SOMA who were stoked for GIGLIFE. Kind of a bummer, if you ask me. Two good things came out of night one:
1. I shook hands with Jimmy Stadt and was all cool about it. I'm like a Mexican Samuel L Jackson.
2. My love affair with Fireworks began.
NIGHT TWO: Pomona, Thursday, August 20
Shit got real. Fantastic crowd except for that bitch behind me who kept tugging on my ponytail and putting her hand on my head. And that guy who got way too close for comfort during FYS and kept knocking his junk onto my back. Awwwwkwaaaaarrrrd. Fireworks brought out a lot of people, including a guy with snakebite piercings (gross) behind me, who I'm pretty sure wept openly during a couple of songs. Polar Bear Club played my jam, I had decided if they didn't, I was going to walk up to each individual member and punch him square in the nose. Luckily, no violence was needed. Four Year Strong was much more energetic, even though it was brought to everyone's attention that most bands had succumbed to a food coma. Set Your Goals rocked it. Seriously, they totally fucking annihilated everything. They also played The Few That Remain with Jimmy Stadt subbing for Hayley Williams (A wise substitute, in my opinion) Also, can I just mention how much I love Luke Truman filling in for Vinnie Caruana? What a badass.
Pomona was gnarly as all hell. I love being in a crowd where everyone around you knows the word to every song, it's that good old hardcore brotherhood thing these douches in camo shorts keep talking about.
NIGHT THREE: San Francisco, Friday, August 21
The Pomona show times a million. Tons of energy, awesome sets, tons of audience/band interaction. NO FUCKING BARRICADE. I have a big issue with barricades, as they have a tendency to knock out my teeth, making me look like a hillbilly Kathleen Hanna. So, the fact that All i had to worry about was getting rugburn on my face from the stage was quite the relief. Every single band just fucked Slim's with their badassery. Sadly, the last night we'd be at GIGLIFE and I still miss it. My only reminders are a fuckton of merch and Alan's guitar pick. But I didn't lose any teeth!
OH BY THE WAY. Can I just mention real quick how much I hate San Francisco? The traffic is fucking awful, it's full of dirty hobos who break into cars and steal shit, the hills are terrible to drive and park on and the drive there is hideous. Had I not had the bestie with me, I think I would have killed myself. Despite the shittiness of San Francisco, it was probably the best three days of my life. Wouldn't trade that shit for the world but I would trade anything to do it again.
Even now, I'm going to look back on this in a few years and laugh at how forcedly nonchalant I seem. Why the fuck do I keep starting these things? Probably because I can't even remember what I had for breakfast, let alone what I did last week. (EDITOR'S NOTE: That's bullshit, last week was GIGLIFE and it was fucking gnarly as all hell. Time of my life, bro, for serious)
Moving on, these usually help me remember what a crossroads I'm at in my life at the moment. Right now I'm regretting eating two cheeseburgers in one day. Captain's Burger at the Olde Ship for lunch and a Double Double for dinner. What the fuck was I thinking? As much as I love feasting on dairy and the flesh of the innocent, it makes me bloat and ultimately curled in the fetal position from stomach cramps. You see, as much as I would love to be a vegetarian, I have a violent iron deficiency that would lead me to commit unspeakable crimes against humanity if I don't have a burger at least once a week. Also, I love yogurt, cheese, milk and ice cream (among a multitude of other dairy products) but moments after consuming said treats, I'm crippled my stomach cramps and the feeling that a poltergeist is trying to escape from deep in my gut.
But enough of my intestinal soap opera.
The bestie and I did GIGLIFE last week. A mega-tour of our favorite bands we'd been planning to follow for three consecutive nights. We bough tickets in May. Needless to say, we were stoked.
NIGHT ONE: San Diego, Wednesday, August 19
Probably the worst night of the three. The crowd was half spanish-speaking and half douchey scene kids. I don't think I've seen so many bad haircuts in one place since I hung out with those sad kids from high school. The crowd was terribly unreceptive, which made me feel like a retard when I got stoked for every band that came on. Super stoked for Polar Bear Cub, since it was my first time seeing them live. Not disappointed at all. Ok, I lied, I was incredibly pissed the first night because they didn't play my jam, Most Miserable Life. Bastards. FYS brought the noise, as usual, I love seeing them live. Set Your Goals was amazing, they're always amazing. I've never been disappointed by those bay area sons of bitches. Still, it felt like there were a total of about seven people in all of SOMA who were stoked for GIGLIFE. Kind of a bummer, if you ask me. Two good things came out of night one:
1. I shook hands with Jimmy Stadt and was all cool about it. I'm like a Mexican Samuel L Jackson.
2. My love affair with Fireworks began.
NIGHT TWO: Pomona, Thursday, August 20
Shit got real. Fantastic crowd except for that bitch behind me who kept tugging on my ponytail and putting her hand on my head. And that guy who got way too close for comfort during FYS and kept knocking his junk onto my back. Awwwwkwaaaaarrrrd. Fireworks brought out a lot of people, including a guy with snakebite piercings (gross) behind me, who I'm pretty sure wept openly during a couple of songs. Polar Bear Club played my jam, I had decided if they didn't, I was going to walk up to each individual member and punch him square in the nose. Luckily, no violence was needed. Four Year Strong was much more energetic, even though it was brought to everyone's attention that most bands had succumbed to a food coma. Set Your Goals rocked it. Seriously, they totally fucking annihilated everything. They also played The Few That Remain with Jimmy Stadt subbing for Hayley Williams (A wise substitute, in my opinion) Also, can I just mention how much I love Luke Truman filling in for Vinnie Caruana? What a badass.
Pomona was gnarly as all hell. I love being in a crowd where everyone around you knows the word to every song, it's that good old hardcore brotherhood thing these douches in camo shorts keep talking about.
NIGHT THREE: San Francisco, Friday, August 21
The Pomona show times a million. Tons of energy, awesome sets, tons of audience/band interaction. NO FUCKING BARRICADE. I have a big issue with barricades, as they have a tendency to knock out my teeth, making me look like a hillbilly Kathleen Hanna. So, the fact that All i had to worry about was getting rugburn on my face from the stage was quite the relief. Every single band just fucked Slim's with their badassery. Sadly, the last night we'd be at GIGLIFE and I still miss it. My only reminders are a fuckton of merch and Alan's guitar pick. But I didn't lose any teeth!
OH BY THE WAY. Can I just mention real quick how much I hate San Francisco? The traffic is fucking awful, it's full of dirty hobos who break into cars and steal shit, the hills are terrible to drive and park on and the drive there is hideous. Had I not had the bestie with me, I think I would have killed myself. Despite the shittiness of San Francisco, it was probably the best three days of my life. Wouldn't trade that shit for the world but I would trade anything to do it again.
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