Me toil part time at jah coldstone creamery

I have the biggest crush on Andy Samberg.

Secret recipes and songs that define them

Today I was at Scottish Bakehouse and the nervous worker girl-bee knocked over a whole display of chips. I told her, "Don't worry today I fell on my ass in the bathroom. Tripped on the rug. Fell into the trash can. Now I have a bruise on my butt". I think it made her feel better. And it was 100% fact.


Your year is only as good as its soundtrack, right?
The famous Summer09 mix bestowed upon DJ Cartel I will now reveal, mainly for my own memory's sake:

1. Electric Feel- MGMT*
2. I Want you Back- Jackson Five
3. ABC- Jackson Five
4. Bingo- MIA*
5. Glass Danse- The Faint
6. The Way You Make Me Feel- Michael Jackson*
7. P.Y.T.- Michael Jackson*
8. Wanna Be Startin' Something- Michael Jackson
9. Ya Mama- The Pharcyde
10. So What'cha Want- The Beastie Boys
11. Sabotage- The Beastie Boys
12. Body Movin' -The Beastie Boys
13. I'll Be There For You- Method Man
14. How High- Method Man and Red Man
15. Work It- Missy Elliott*
16. Rump Shaker Radio Remix- Wreckx-n-Effect*
17. Time to Pretend- MGMT
18. Move your Feet- Junior Senior*



* songs that are part of my human definition.


Current favorites: Of Montreal, Donovan, Michael Jackson

Help! My Husband is an Idiot!

Saw this ridiculous article while checking my email Called 10 Things Husbands Should Never Do.


"Guys, we love you, we really do. But as wonderful as you are, every so often you do something that makes us want to jump out the nearest window (or push you out first). Please, please, don’t ever…

1. Offer to “babysit” your own kids. When your 16-year-old neighbor does it, it’s called babysitting. When a parent does it, it’s called child care, and it lasts for at least 18 years. Get it?

Katie reaction: It's a slip of the tongue. Who cares? I feel like I have to babysit myself, boyfriends, family and friends before. Yeah it would get annoying if they didn't realize they are a parent but how is this #1?/span>

2. Imply that office work is harder than housework. At the end of a hard day, there may be smoke coming out of your ears, but let’s face it: You’ve basically been sitting on your butt. That same smoke is coming out of our ears too—but we’ve cleaned the house, shuttled the kids around, run errands all over town and lugged grocery bags besides. When we say we’re exhausted, we are exhausted.

Katie Reaction: Agreed. Only, helllooo?? I love how this article suggests that it's only offensive because of course the wife was at home making lunch and driving the kids to soccer. She would NEVER be at work herself.

3. Give a home appliance as a gift. Forgive us if we can’t work it up for this one. A new washing machine? Really? Can we get you some new snow tires?

Katie reaction: I don't know. It may not be a new ring (God forbid we don't get jewelry!!) but if I didn't have a washing machine and my husband got me one I'd be like hell fuckin yeah they got me a several thousand dollar machine. You can take the undies off the clothesline, honey.

4. Buy us the “cougar” perfume. Under our crew-neck sweaters may beat the heart of an untamed vixen—but most of us don’t want to smell like one. (Nice try, though.)

Katie Reaction: This really depends on the perfume. Perfume is nice, though. And wtf is cougar perfume?

5. Brag about your driving. This is supposed to let us know that ours isn’t so great. If my husband tells me one more time that he’s been “accident-free since 1978,” I’m going to reach over, grab the wheel and make the car swerve into something, just to shut him up.

Katie Reaction: You're going to make the car crash because you chose to marry a misogynist prick who makes comments about your driving? Shame on you, you really bad driver, you.

6. Be unimpressed by a meal that took a lot of time and trouble. I don’t know whose fault this is (Food Network? Julie and Julia?), but every so often we get the idea that it would be fun to make stock and spend the day basting. If the result is less than earth-shattering, say something nice anyway.

Katie Reaction: Say thanks but if my soup tastes like Richard Simmons crotch please be vocal. See also: let him cook for himself

7. Buy clothes without trying them on. We know that the second you get into a department store you start to feel faint, but do us a favor and take the extra five minutes. Otherwise, you know who gets stuck with the returns?

Katie Reaction: Wow, my husband is such a ditz he doesn't know his own size!!! This doesn't seem like an occurrence that would even happen that often. Just don't return it. It's his responsibility/his money

8. Know it all, especially in public. Oh, honey. While you’re going on at length about whatever it is, we’re taking the temperature of the room, and we know everyone’s starting to fidget.

Katie Reaction: Don't marry someone boring as hell with Alzheimer's.

9. Say anything remotely critical about our new haircut. Sometimes getting a new cut goes well; sometimes it doesn’t. Usually we know the difference. Don’t rub it in.

Katie Reaction: Mostly true, but a little commentary isn't bad. I'm sure the girl that wrote this article would complain about her husband's bad haircut.

10. Expect a medal for doing a little housework. Umm…it’s your house too, right? For now, we’ll give you the bronze. Maybe someday, if you work hard enough, you can pick up a gold.

Katie Reaction: First one I actually completely agree with. I hate when anyone thinks they are commendable for doing something you do around the house every week. "Wow, you finally got off your ass, congrats". Drop the medal metaphor, thanks.


It's winter break. I'm home alone. I'm reading really bad articles online and jezebelling them. Sry.

women&children first....? poor men.

I got plenty of my own friends; they're all above me.


I'm doing pretty alright, considering. I don't want to do work in the least. My hair is looking like a mountain child today. So charged, and ready for slavery.

I just flew in from a Biology lab!

Untameable Desire

I have an obsession this week. It is obtaining a Shiba Inu and housing with it and training it and being its companion eternally.




The cuteness of this thing seems incomprehensible.

I am addicted.
The end.

Wow Factor

Seriously? Seriously? This is what people have been searching most in America? I cannot tell whether to be outraged or delighted at my country's branches of curiosity. Metallica and static electricity and retardation and scientology. Sounds like an informed citizen.

Yes it's true: I love you, how does it feel without me?

My Top Favorite Albums:

Let It Be- The Beatles
Abbey Road- The Beatles
Odyssey and Oracle- The Zombies
Extraordinary Machine- Fiona Apple
Hail To The Thief- Radiohead
Hot Shots II- The Beta Band
Challengers- The New Pornographers
American Beauty- The Grateful Dead
Tommy- The Who
S.F. Sorrow is Born- The Pretty Things

on a dry and dusty road

One of the most moving scenes from Freaks and Geeks/ one of the most musically effective moments on Tv/film:

Bill wakes up to see Coach Fredericks in his undies after coitaling with his Momma, sipping from the Bill cup.


ENTER: LOVE REIGN O'ER ME!!!!!!!!!


Perfect.

I need to get back home to cool, cool rain.

NETFLIX

So, based upon Sarah's and my movie preferences on Netflix, they created the following categories that fit our tastes:




Feel-good Independent Comedies
Movies Starring John Cusack
Cerebral TV Shows
Sentimental Drama Featuring a Strong Female Lead
Critically-acclaimed Visually-Striking Witty Movies


Also of note: Check these personally suggested TV shows OUT:

A perfect man commands all light

so happy you are on your island




It is our duty to find our own islands.

wanted ads

I just found this wanted ad in a victorian novel that I wrote in Brooklyn 6 months back or more.


Complicated Kate seeks warm, mustachioed man to accompany her to bed of stars and sea grass where we will mull over cardboard party hats and cheese synthesis, looking for a good time via Facebook and someone to blog about , handlebars wanted, please no smokers.

In the same novel, there is this poem:

You whispered softly in whiskey stained tears that your cheeks ran with and you bit on the flaky cracker and the crumbs fell like snow drops onto your lanky beard and only because I love you so much, only because when I was down by the murky waters when you came up behind meto brush my face with lilacs and thistles only then do I come up to you so lovingly and coddle those cracker bits with my lips and tell you that you are fine and that no one could be lovelier than you are when you are staring at the kidney streaked patch works of american sunsets, no one could waltz with the presidentes and corral the caballos, not like you.

titled: Love Letter to Walt Whitman part 2


Part 1 is sneaking around in my room somewhere, to be sure.

(let's be honest)

My head is the dumbest.

fact

Sometimes I can't determine the gender of American Apparel models that appear in my sidebar.

Need some Clarification

Just watched random SVU (obsessed!) and Stabler was mackin it with his new partner who is not Olivia and I thought he was married. WHAT. What is this? No, really. What does this mean? Why are not Stabler and Benson mackin it? They love each other, they really do. Let's just admit that.


Also: Olivia Benson is so hot.

Trapped in transit

I haven't updated in a long while--and I could explain why but the real reason is I don't know why. I guess I've just been living life and haven't had much time to mull over my thoughts. I've been spending some nice times with some nice people and so far this summer, although I haven't done much, has allowed me to travel slightly and hang out and I actually have friends near me as opposed to being on the island stuck in a friendless zone. I never realized how not-horrific summers had to be. Butttt, I do miss the family and the beach. I must visit and bask in Lambert's Cove and cuddle with a sibling or two.

I would say more, and really do want to say more but now is not the exact time. For now, I am okay. Fine. New apartment is swell.

I have been listening to: The Beta Band, New Pornographers, The Dirty Projectors, Yeasayer, Beirut. These are new finds. :]

Can you take me back?

This is Neil and I. We've never taken a picture of us in the 6 years of our friendship.

The semester is over. Summer has started. This should be the time of year for relief, dancing, mistake-making, and being idle. However, since I'm in the middle of moving and don't have a job this time of year is instead a time of stress, anxiety, annoyance, and uncertainty. Although school work is insanely boring and time consuming, whenever summer comes, barring the weather, I wish it was time for class again. Class gives me structure and means that I'm not working full time and lazing away my afternoons. There is something much more comforting about that.

This week I've helped three people move and still have to move myself. I am getting pretty sick of it at this point. I've cleaned/packed the living room and some of the kitchen. I still haven't started my room or the bathroom. It will be a long week.


I really don't want a job, but I need money. I'm so lazy. I need some source of renewal.

It's been a month since I hit my head today. It's still kickin' too. It hasn't healed at the very top yet. I still have phantom stapling twangs of pain, too. Still wanting to go to bed early like a senior citizen, too.


I got a free printer from a German boy but he didn't give me a software disk or a cord to plug it in to an outlet. Should I sell this?

another one bites the dust

The lighting is bad at the library, I look oddly gothic:



At the MFA reading last night I got a shout-out. A grad student that I'm friends with thanked me over the microphone for coming. It was half weird, half delightful considering the vast majority of MFAers have no idea who I am.

I'm a greasy puppy unable to shower and at the library trying to do work [and failing]. In part this is due to the girl near by listening to LOUD Staind songs on repeat. Blech.

here's coming a better version of me

MY STAPLES ARE OUT! After two weeks of healing, I just got 20 staples removed from my head. The procedure took only about ten minutes and was pretty painful. (The staples that hurt the most going in, hurt the most coming out, go figure). The doctor that saw me made me do those wacky neurological tests that I had to do 5 times in the hospital. You basically shake your limbs, stick out your tongue and jiggle about. Not so much different from my normal behavior. I had a wonderful rotund, dread-locked aging nurse take them out for me. She had a Southern accent and kept calling me baby. It was sweet. I held onto Kristie's hand. Was in pain for a while. My head bled slightly. Now it feels very tender and I'm not allowed to shower for a while. The nurse said my hair was kind of tangled but that she wanted me to "dread it up". I'm now sitting in the library looking at a jar of staples that I never actually got to see in me. I'm going to celebrate tonight via Sharon and poetry reading.

In other news, my sister just cracked a tooth open with Kashi cereal and has to see an oral surgeon. We're all falling apart.

In other other news I had a flashback memory of getting stapled and remembered the doctor said to turn on the TV to distract me. It was a Mariah Carey video or something because all I remember was being face down getting my scalp stapled with Mariah Carey in the background. Vile.

So, in conclusion:

Kashi: 1
Tooth: 0

Mariah Carey: 0
World: 1

Katie: 1
Staples: 0

sleepyhead

I designed a chapbook for my creative writing class. here are the results:

I'd give you everything I got for a little peace of mind

This is how you look and feel during Spring in Amherst:


This is how you look and feel after sustaining a serious head injury, 2 inch cut skull deep in the scalp, 20 staples to close. The doctor's said I had an amazing brain after they looked at the CAT scan. I don't know how they can tell that or what that means.

Me after hospital:



My head wasn't the only thing hurt, this is a picture of one of my bruises, actually from an intimate area of my body but shh:


I'm rockin the head scarf currently.




Today I've felt the best yet, but still dealing with it. And I'm also a greasy rat. The body is an extraordinary machine.

weird fiction

As per suggestion of Sarah, I reviewed our Wall-To-Wall over maybe the past year (I could not/would not get through the whole thing in one sitting). She told me to do it if I was sad, which is sadly my default setting in current life due to a whole bunch of reasons. Besides the point:

So many glorious jokes revealed and overlooked.

From this I was able to recall my favorite Sifl and Olly moment: FIRST. VIRGIN. MALE. PREGNANT.
God bless sock puppets.

But you have to have them all pulled out.

I have an unbearable amount of work ahead of me. So is the pattern of college Sundays.

Bill Haverchuck and I might have the same point of view towards a lot of things, namely romance.

Last night I had a rendezvous with Corduroy Bear.




He is the latest addition to my bed. A most welcome guest.

Heartless Bastard

I enrolled in classes for next year. It feels good to have a capstone and 18 credits jingling around in my head. I am taking Syntax, Thesis-Indepdent Spirit in Literature, Writing with Technologies, History of Witches, Avant Garde film, and 20th Century Literature. First semester in a while without creative writing, but they only offered poetry and that class conflicted with my Thesis, which is the only class I need. Oh well.

Things are really busy, cold, and rainy here. House searching and countless assignments and nights with little sleep are draining my bones. I'm conflicted and yet so calm. And feeling slightly wreckless these days.

One of my new favorite songs is "The Mountain" by Heartless Bastards. They're not touring anywhere in MA. A shame. This is an acoustic version with just the singer. She has an amazing deep voice.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SgQ57E93jlw

I'll make love to you

Currently working on a group presentation and organizing and researching for it. But what is distracting me is The Beatles. I didn't know you could make love to music, and now you can.

I am posting to remind myself that I can go to a party without having a completely foul time. Just dance and introduce yourself. I think I talked to 15 people or more that I'd never met before last night. It was really a great time. Someone said something offensive/pretentious to me and I sprinted away up the stairs away from them without saying anything. Taking this into account, I can get smoothly out of any bad situation and lead the dance circle and bond with random people. Cheers to aimless fun, no cheers to work or applications. And Cheers to Justin, birth.

She's so Wonderful

I kind of feel like I've been hitting a wall lately, or a lot of walls, and a lot of mud on those walls.

I've got to thinking about my little flirtation with Creative Writing and the classes that UMass offers and realized my enchantment may be over. After a poetry reading tonight I began ruminating and I don't think I'm cut out for that world. I love words and I love writing for myself, but I don't think I'm near brave or talented enough to ever take on a public writing agenda seriously. I can't even decide whether I'm made out for fiction or poetry. Last semester I was in a poetry class and this semester I switched to fiction, and I feel like I hated both. I'm feeling like all this talk of diagloue, narrative grip, plot outlines, and exposition make me want to tear my hair out and write a poem. Writing poems makes me want to drown myself in syrup, begging for some kind of structure outside of airy word fluff. So there we have it. A part of me says, "Just finish your certificate, you only have one class left". Another says, "It doesn't really matter at all." An even greater part says, "You're no good and you're not even good enough to be caught up in other people's good, Drop it and move on to classes with more structure and less creative demand." I don't like writing stories or poems; I just like huge hunks of text that convey...something. I am going to drink up some MFA students work tomorrow and try to give some serious thought to all of this stuff. I don't think my thesis will be taking as daring a route as I once thought. There it is I guess. Then we came to the end.

That Sleepy Feeling

I'm back from New York City. I'm playing it very low-key and hopefully getting some reading and other things done. Carly and I wrote out a list of accomplishments we wish to make. So far we have only done two on the list, or maybe three. These are:
-Go to Lone Wolf
-Learn the Charleston (We filmed ourselves doing it on our porch)
-Sing Animal Collective

We have yet to:
-Go to the Moan and Dove (we looked it up and it's beer-only so we might not)
-Film a video about my body for Carly's class (we can't do this until the weekend)
-Complete all homework
-I've forgotten the rest

I'm 21 and have purchased alcohol three times and have not been carded. Thoroughly anticlimactic.
Here are some photos from my trip.



We went to Moutarde, the lovely French place Terri Lee works at. I went pee and she left this Katie-specific bouquet at my table.



I did this with my hair. It looked fancy and then it fell down after brunch.



This is me at 21, taken by Carly, in Sarah's room.



Terri Lee, Sarah, Carly, and I went out to a Cafe in Brooklyn called Blackbird Cafe. Paul Mccartney was watching over me. I took a picture of this, officially my birthday on the subway.



This is Strawberry Fields. A lot of John Lennon loving hippies around. It's not that impressive.



I really like this picture. This was somewhere in our three hour walk in Central Park.



We walked across the Brooklyn Bridge.





Sarah and I found a tub on the street. She reinacted tubgirl.



Fin.

Jellytoes

I finished my school work for the week and besides one morning class, break is calling me. I hope the next days are relaxing.

Carly gave me a drawing today. One looks exactly like me reading waiting for hot cocoa:


I looked at another boy in the drawing and said to myself "Hey that looks like a kid from my writing class!" I was delighted when I found a picture of him online.





Ian finally rocked my world and I'm getting my t-shirt by the end of the month.

Things are okay here. I've been doing a lot of dancing. A lot a lot. Too much going on up there in that peanut brain.

Rain Shock

I typed "Katie likes to" into google and am copying down the top 10 results. This is a chain epidemic going around. I thought I'd join in.
1. Katie likes to be in pictures
Accuracy: I guess I do, I guess I just like pictures in general more though.
2. Katie likes to keep Paul on his toes.
Accuracy: Yes, I do keep my father always wondering.
3. Katie likes to run around. In cotton panties and a crown. She driving all the boy's insane. Suckin on a candy cane.
Accuracy: Well, that's true.
4. Katie likes to say that she teaches "domesticity for dummies"
Accuracy: I don't think this can be taught. No.
5. Katie likes to dance.
Accuracy: Very.
6. Katie likes to hit things.
Accuracy: I'm a fairly nonviolent being
7.Katie likes to hopscotch.
Accuracy: Not currently hopscotching.
8. Katie likes to help in the kitchen
Accuracy: My favorite household chore is doing the dishes. I think it's the warmth.
9. Katie likes to drive go-carts and collects stamps. Her favorite food is spaghetti with meatballs AND vegetables.
Accuracy: False except the AND vegetables.
10. Katie likes to be silly too!
Accuracy: High.

I am experiencing a two week period of constant homework and paper writing. It's intense. I'm in the middle of reading Don Delillo's White Noise. I'm only 80 pages in but it's really pretty funny. It is structurally/narratively very different from any other book I've read. Apparently Delillo is way up there as far as postmodern novelists go. Go him.

I received some really bad news tonight concerning a family member. Not death-bad. But bad-bad. I don't wish to display it publicly, but all I can say is that the world is cruel. Although I like to think of my family as a funny anecdotal petri dish, there is a point when dysfunctionality peaks into a nonhumorous zone. I only wish I could give them some large encompassing hug of protection. But that doesn't ever work out. My footsteps keep getting closer towards the big sign that says futility, and I'm kind of ready to take the dropping out of school and sleeping constantly train.


Chugachugawoowoo.

That ice is slowly melting

This week has unfolded in a most serendipitous manner. Work was canceled on Wednesday, today my first two classes were canceled, work has been canceled for tomorrow, and Monday is a Holiday. I have so much work though, so this ease comes at a good moment. I'm also going through a rough cold. I've been playing that obnoxious sneezing girl in class who blows her dripping nose every twenty seconds. The other day in my Shakespeare Film class we were watching West Side Story and an intended to be tender moment came on. My nose started running and I had to blow hard into my tissue. I probably looked like a sentimental sap crying over Maria and Tony's ill destined love, but no, not me.

I have to write a paper on the movie Crash this weekend and how it relates to ethnicity and stereotypes. It's one of those papers that seems so easy that it's almost difficult to do. Overall, I really didn't care for the movie. It was completely full of racism. Yeah, I get that's the point. It's supposed to put the harsh, real stuff out there to make people aware. But the ending was not redeeming and if anything it just repeated bad stereotypes over and over. The film almost seemed self aware that it was supposed to be this great revolutionary movie the whole time. Not to mention anything with Sandra Bullock and Brendan Frasier I refuse to take seriously.

Right outside my apartment I slipped on ice and fell down today. I bruised my knee pretty badly and got some cuts on my hand. I've decided nothing can make you feel less in control or more of an idiot than falling on ice. There is an awkward buffoonery to it that has no rival.

I've decided to include pictures of me that are on my computer that probably nobody has seen much of. For critical entertainment purposes.