Herself

I.

Because
I'm so cold and cruel
I don't sing along
I'm less of a daughter
just ask my mother

I'm just cold
I said
with my head in the oven
and a pencil in my hand

I bit my lip once
so hard it bled
but its all in my head
just ask my dad

But what would I ask
Shakespeare' sister
when I don't listen too well
anyway

I'm just like my brothers
I put dents in my cans
and as much like the others
as you say I am

But can I stay out all night
if I'm wearing white
after Labor Day?

And they say that I'm a dreamer...
but you didn't leave my window in vain
I was just expecting rain
and what would they say
if I choked on my wedding ring?

I'm full of rejections
the ring in my nose said so
until the girl next to me
in Contemporary American Lit
got one too

But what would they say to know
that I'm most comfortable
in a bachelor pad?
and I'm not much for dancing on bars
but sometimes
my guts hurt
because they're so empty

II.

And in the bathroom stall
of a strobe lit bar
we did shotguns
because we were no good at beer pong

And these are the girls...

The girls you want to take home
even though
you know
you'll never make them come

But if you really want the key
our celibacy
is hidden in notebooks
with silk pages
like the ones you passed around the freshman dorms
at 4 AM
you knew
that the girls who weren't afrain to drink
really wanted to open their thighs
like those pages
and your vulnerability

My sisters and I
we are no Ophelia
like you are no Prophet Prince
you don't know the end
any more than I do

Gimme Gimme

Hello Dahl


Love love love that Alison Kelly hasn't let that whole booted from Project Runway for creating a giant beige paper mache Minnie Mouse thing get her down. She was my fav. I wanna be her friend.

A Conversation

Sent to Charlemagne at 12:57 PM

Kate: Holy shit! I just got an email from our 4th grade Challenge teacher.

Charlemagne: The one that looked like that cartoon from that game?

Kate: The very same.

Charlemagne: About that game?

Kate: No, I don't think she knows about that game.

Charlemagne: About Challenge?

Kate: No. She's on a listserve I'm on for work.

Charlemagne: She's gotta be old now.

Kate: She was old then. And a close talker.

Charlemagne: That's true. She was on prozac.

Kate: Yeah...Wait. How do you know that?

Charlemagne: I made it up. But right?

Kate: I guess...

Charlemagne: Challenge sucked.

Boyfriend for Adoption

Spelling and grammar errors aside, this made my morning. I found it, of course, on Craigslist.


"The dog must go, I have a Boyfriend for adoption OR FOR RENT TO OWN, currently don't have the time, patcience or money to support and take care of any longer. About 6 ft, hazel eyes, has a little extra fluff but not bad at all, just from the extra feedings and cooking. With regular walks he could be in tip top shape in no time.

PROS:
1. Not bad in the sack but foreplay and all that lovey dovey stuff is not a must, more of a wam bam thank you mam
2. Will cook sometimes as long as it isn't complicated
3. Will vaccum, but thats about it
4. Likes pets for the most part until they need something like food, or vaccinations and what not
5. Easy to feed, will eat just about anything, even if its been sitting in the fridge for a bit
6. Potty trained for the most part, most of the time he sits down to pee, so there is usually no toilet seat to put down
7. and of course easily amused

CONS:

1. Does not hold a job very well- though will be going back to work very soon for the summer, and then collecting unemployment for the winter
2. Is not for the hole cuddling thing that often
3. there is absolutely no licking, biting/nibbling, or any foreplay unless it has to do with him, they will take a bj in a split second
4 Must have a sack of weed at all times- either that or he becomes aggressive and lashes out
5. Can sometimes drink alot, but has more or so smoking the green lately instead
6. Thinks hes the brightest crayon in the box
7. not a very good liar
8. Doesn't pick up after him self for the most part
9. Does not clean up after his dog, when it messes in the house, usually just leaves it there
10. Needs to shower more often
11. leaves sculptures in toilet, and completly forgets to flush
12. some times pees in the bathroom sink, occasionally the kitchen sink

I would love (not to keep it) but I found a new one, who keeps a job, completly gorgous, rocken body, and the best dick a girl could ever want!
If any one would like anymore information, please email
There is a small adoption fee of $100 though this is , not even close to what I put into him/ it/ this dwelling butt monkey of a turd and a hard place
I have another option in which you could rent them for A$25 bucks a week until hes paid off.
Am open to trades, suppose, dog toys or cat toys would do"


I did not reply to the offer, as I can find my own butt monkey of turds without advertisement. I am considering taking out my own Craigslist ad for a certain missing neo-Coloradian who might secretly be stalking me via this blog. Katelyn- (that's right, I only associate with other Kates) call me ASAP or I'm putting your face on a milk carton.

I am Ophelia

I'm with Geri. Julia Fuller-Batten is kick ass and angsty. And we all know I love me a little angst.

Cat Lady

Meow. Because I support kitties and lovely living spaces.

Your Mom

That's what she said.

Shout out to my mentor, A.M. Cool C. You keep gaming on the company dime, lady, and spreading your evil ways to the world. Asalamalikum.

The Earth is my Body. My Head is in the Stars.

A lot of people enjoy being dead. But they are not dead, really. They're just backing away from life. Reach out. Take a chance. Get hurt even. But play as well as you can. Go team, go! Give me an L. Give me an I. Give me a V. Give me an E. L-I-V-E. LIVE! Otherwise, you got nothing to talk about in the locker room.

Tater Tater Tater

A coworker sent this link circulating this morning. Everyone's response (except for me) was, "Eww." One person even said, "Barfalicious." My response was, "Damn, I could go for a McNuggetini and a Garbage Plate for lunch today. I wish they delivered." I then proceeded to google "What should I have for lunch today?" which sadly, has been searched before. There's even a quiz. It recommended I have sushi. Instead I'm sitting here disappointed in my soup again, and wishing it was made out of pureed Big Macs and fries.

And don't go googling Big Mac soup. It doesn't exist. I already looked.

Gracias, Dr. Casa

Religion is not the opiate of the masses, it's the placebo of the masses.

Dare to Care

Thanks again, Craigslist, for warming this cold heart.

The ad was for the couch, not the Care Bears. They were just added for effect.

Flip Your Hair. Shake Your Feet.

I wanna be better than oxygen
So you can breathe when you're drowning and weak in the knees
I wanna speak louder than Ritalin
For all the children who think that they've got a disease
I wanna be cooler than t.v.
For all the kids that are wondering what they are going to be
We can be stronger than bombs
If you're singing along and you know that you really believe
We can be richer than industry
As long as we know that there's things that we don't really need
We can speak louder than ignorance
Cause we speak in silence every time our eyes meet.

On and on, and on, and on it goes
The world it just keeps spinning
Until i'm dizzy, time to breathe
So close my eyes and start again anew.

I wanna see through all the lies of society
To the reality, happiness is at stake
I wanna hold up my head with dignity
Proud of a life where to give means more than to take
I wan't to live beyond the modern mentality
Where paper is all that you're really taught to create
Do you remember the forgotten America?
Justice, equality, freedom to every race?
Just need to get past all the lies and hypocrisy
Make up and hair to the truth behind every face
That look around to all the people you see,
How many of them are happy and free?
I know it sounds like a dream
But it's the only thing that can get me to sleep at night
I know it's hard to believe
But it's easy to see that something here isn't right
I know the future looks dark
But it's there that the kids of today must carry the light.

On and on, and on, and on it goes
The world it just keeps spinning
Until i'm dizzy, time to breathe
So close my eyes and start again anew.

If i'm afraid to catch a dream
I weave your baskets and I'll float them down the river stream
Each one i weave with words i speak to carry love to your relief.

The Siren Song That Is Your Madness

Lying is the most fun a girl can have with her clothes on.

And There is Only the Dance

An update on my fabulous life:

I am 99.987% moved into my chic new abode, but still waiting for cable, which makes it feel less like home, and more like a torture chamber. I've watched a whole lotta TV on DVD this last week to try to pretend I'm watching my regularly scheduled programming, but alas, even with an entire season of My So Called Life, a little It's Always Sunny, and some Freaks and Geeks, my inner channel surfer knows that I'm not. I'm about to start etching tally marks into the walls, prison cell style, to count out the days until those punks from the cable company show up. This is sure to displease my roommate more than me showing up on moving day with a life size Hannah Montana cut out and a six foot tall pink sparkly Christmas tree.

I've been having dreams about the current QB blowing me off for other girls, leading me to believe that I'm much more attached than I'm willing to admit, hence it's time to move on. Maybe it's just the threat of Valentine's Day looming in the future, but I plan to take a step back and indulgemyself in my imagined relationships with various celebrities and fictional characters. As for Valentine's Day itself, I think I'll lock myself in my room with a bottle of wine and spend the day writing ex-boyfriends hate mail.

I had my three month evaluation at work yesterday, which I pretended was like Hollywood week on American Idol. The decision not to fire my ass was like my ticket to Hollywood. Word is, after the three month probation period is up, it's nearly impossible for the higher ups to can me unless I set the building on fire or show up to work dressed like an enormous hot dog. I think it's time to pull out the bigger nose rings and dye my hair pink.

So, things are certainly not fast lane living, but they're not tumultuous either, which I suppose I support. However, I give myself about another two weeks before I get bored of being a grown up and go get a My Little Pony tattoo or sleep with someone inappropriate.

I've also decided that it's uncited quote week, hump day to hump day. So here, as John Stewart puts it, is your moment of zen:

Tear out those puny windows, rip down those narrow walls! This is just the beginning. I want a balcony, so I can wave down at the adoring crowds, but high enough that they can't see the disdain on my face.

Insert Creative Title Here

Monday night I pulled on my very best celebrity judging uniform (sweatpants and some quasi-boyfriend's stolen hoodie, accessorized with my favorite delightfully witty and energetic homosexual) and settled in to watch the Grammys. As expected, I was provided with a whole slew of new things to ponder, and a new secret crush on Jason Mraz, even though I always found him obnoxiously popish and questioned his sexuality in a just-come-out-already-and-start-dating-Rufus-Wainwright kinda way. Maybe that's why Tristan Prettyman dumped him via email. I digress.

I was prepared to indulge my ponderings in a post, but FGY beat me to it and put 85% of what had kept me up the last two nights into words (and pictures) this morning.

The other 15%? Well, as always 14% of my brain is devoted to Disney Channel stars. The forced smiles thinly veiling the tension between Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift during their duet hurt my heart a little, and Nick Jonas fucking up the words while playing with Stevie Wonder mended it. The other 1% belonged entirely to Kanye's jerry curl.

Twice Baked

For lunch today I brought a leftover baked potato that I ended up being very disappointed in. It was a far cry from the delights that come from the drive-thru at Wendy's. I begrudgingly caved to my stomach and dragged my ass to the cabaret to get some more chow. I decided on a cup of soup, and was waiting in line to pay when I realized that the soup I was about to go eat in my office was "stuffed baked potato." I had subconsciously tried to remedy the earlier baked potato situation with another baked potato situation. I found this both amusing and sad at the same time.

Shakespeare Hates your Emo Poetry

Things that need to be brought to my attention prior to five minutes before it's too late:

Free Denny's Grand Slams

Thanks to my brother, Charlemagne, for sending me the text, "free grand slams at Dennys for seven more minutes." Had this been posted under the Free section of Craigslist, I would be a much happier camper right now.

Instead, I am experimenting with the best way to eat chips without getting my fingers all greasy. So far it's a toss up between a spoon and drinking them out of a cup. Man, do I look AWESOME.

Headlines Don't Sell Papes, Newsies Sell Papes

I love me some craigslist. It's sad, almost, the hours of amusement that I can find in others' far too serious ads and inquiries. Missed Connections is my favorite, because I can often times fool myself into thinking that each is secretly for me. Sure, I tell myself, my hair could be considered long and blond, if you're squinting while driving past me on the thruway at 70 miles per hour. Or, shit, was I at Tim Horton's last night at 3 AM? No, I think that was last week at 8 in the morning. Maybe this guy has just got his timing a little confused.

I could also get totally lost in the Free section. I stumbled upon this choice ad today:


"Free Denim Hippie Skirt

This is an awesome homemade hippie skirt! It's made from a pair of Old
Navy Jeans and is covered with different pieces of flannel in the front. It's size 31.

I want this skirt to go to the right home. So, tell me what makes you
a hippie or who is your favorite local band?"



Ahhh, yes. I, too, remember that fateful issue of Seventeen that taught us all how to transform our old jeans into skirts. Of course, Seventeen intended these to be mini skirts, but the mid 90s neo-hippie community commandeered it for a while.

So this chick either has her skirt leftover from 1996, or she has continued to produce this fashion icon for the last ten plus years. I wonder what it is that has finally made her decide to part with her little piece of couture. Certainly this skirt means very much to her, as she has included an interview process with her ad for free shit.

Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?

They just appear. Mmhmm.

Topher Grace's character on That 70s Show and Omar Epps' character on House are both named Eric Foreman, and this bothers me.

The unfortunate way my brother's girlfriend does her eyeliner also bothers me. I want to tackle her, hold her down, and mom-wash her face with a loogey.

Dakota Fanning is not aging as poorly as I had hoped. In fact, she's not aging poorly at all. She looks an awful lot like my friend Sick Dicko's ex-girlfriend, actually. And nope, "Sick Dicko" is not a nickname. That's what it says on his birth certificate, like Ponyboy. Just kidding.

Do not ask me what I thought about "the game" last night. The game, to me, is Project Runway. I don't even know who was playing. I was too busy watching Home Alone 2: Lost in New York.

Also, I'm worried that my new apartment might be haunted, or that the previous tenant was a witch. Prolly both. Although seeing a ghost would most definitely make me defecate in my pants, I would welcome the opportunity to host the boys from TAPS. I've been planning to seduce Steve Gonsalves for years.