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Friday, April 04, 2008

On travel:

As I sit in yet another hotel room, contemplating the room-temperature remains of a fruit and cheese plate as a substitute for the mangy breakfast buffet in the lobby restaurant, I feel compelled to reply to the note so kindly left for me by this tiny-bathroomed hotel's housekeeping staff. Specifically, I am referring to the little card left in hotel bathrooms and at bedsides asking guests to please help to save the planet. Ooh, saving the planet! That sounds like a good idea. Let's read on!

The card goes on to say how so much of the precious earth's resources are squandered on washing towels and sheets that have only been used once. My god. Say it ain't so! It then goes on to implore me to voluntarily leave my towels and sheets unwashed for the remainder of my stay, using the same type of guilt-inducing language that my mother employs when she writes me letters about how I don't call her enough and oh my god will she live to see grandchildren. Excuse me while I shit all over myself trying to make sure I don't kill the earth with my clean towel! (Actually, that kind of backfired, as now I'll have to take an extra shower and use more towels to clean up that mess I just made.)

I have to hand it to the hotel cartels associations that came up with this plan to keep their housekeepers from working a full shift doing laundry and also save some cash on the shitty powdered detergent they no doubt use to wash their scratchy towels. I'm sure that true concern for the environment was their ultimate motivation, not the corporate bottom line. But way to use environmental concerns to put cash in your pockets, corporate dudes!

(Note: this was written when I was traveling a lot for work and was not in any way bitter about it.)


babbled by Kat @ 5:10:00 AM | |


Sunday, March 23, 2008

Spaceballs:

Sometimes I have amusing conversations on the internets. Observe:

dirtyfez: i'm watching spaceballs
dirtyfez: but you are probably too young to know wtf that is
Goose: that's ludicrous
Goose: i love spaceballs
dirtyfez: oh right, you are a dude and all
dirtyfez: my bad
Goose: i don't have tim gunn, instead i have spaceballs
dirtyfez: haha
Goose: what part you at
dirtyfez: they just went into the ear of the giant transformers maid. after they blew the air back into druidia
dirtyfez: and daphne zuniga is looking all hot and stuff.
Goose: wow, why would you know her name
Goose: i mean, yeah, she's hot, but still
dirtyfez: and bill pullman is like "i have a promising acting career ahead of me!" and then whoops.
Goose: haha
dirtyfez: because she was on 90210 or melrose place or something.
Goose: what do you mean, he was a great president in id4
dirtyfez: and "zuniga" is fun to say
dirtyfez: he WAS
dirtyfez: he totally blew up alienz omg.
Goose: with windows 95
dirtyfez: and a dos prompt
Goose: i was like 12, i found that plausible
dirtyfez: totally.
dirtyfez: fyi, i may have to blog this part of the conversation
Goose: pay me
dirtyfez: k i'll give you 1 million spacebucks

God. Such nerds.


babbled by Kat @ 10:36:00 PM | |


Monday, December 31, 2007

Dirtyfez 2007 Year in Review:


Like everyone else and their adopted-from-another-country-by-overly-beautiful-yet-crazy-movie-stars brother, I am posting a year in review. For those of you who have stopped reading my blog because I rarely update, this should be a treat, as you can catch up rather quickly. For those of you who have stuck with me, you are awesome and all those other guys who quit reading are dicks. (But don't tell them I said that.) Anyway, here is my year in review.

In 2007, I:

- Got engaged. To a dude.
- Bro!
- Dude.
- Despite all that, I still like boobies.

I mean, other shit happened, but boobies are way more important than anything else.

Unlike most years in the past, I will be making a resolution for 2008: to post more, and to post more boobies. I think everyone can get on board with that.

xoxox


babbled by Kat @ 2:22:00 PM | |


Sunday, November 11, 2007

You want that fried, or deep fried?

For my new job that is supposed to involve little to no travel, I traveled again this past week. I flew down to my least favorite city, Raleigh, for a two-day in-depth technical meeting. 12-hour meetings with grumpy people? Not my thing. Good thing I took a job where I have to do that a lot. At least we got to eat buttery, buttery steaks one night.

After all that fun, my flight back to New York was delayed a few hours. I think that the flight down there was the only on-time flight I have been on in the past six months. That wouldn't be remarkable if I had flown like, 4 flights, but I flew probably 20+ times during that time period. Fuck air travel, right in its ear. Especially to and from the New York area. There's actually an article in the current issue of New York Magazine about it. The NYC trifecta of airports have the worst on-time record for arrivals in the country. Super! I see a lot of road trips in my future.

I promise to be less bitchy soon. I swear. I'm just going through a thing. Hopefully it will lead to an upswing in photos of scantily clad bitches. That always makes me feel better.


babbled by Kat @ 9:28:00 PM | |


Thursday, October 25, 2007

An early midlife crisis:

Lately I have felt a kind of general malaise regarding my career. Having a career at all is kind of funny, probably because I still think of myself as this young, nerdy kid that accidentally pokes herself in the eye a lot. I mean, I have always been really good at what I do, and nobody gives a squeaky fuck whether I have visible piercings or tattoos (though I do cover up the topless broads on my legs - I wouldn't wear a tshirt with a topless broad on it to my grandma's house, nor would I expose my half-nekkid ladyfriends to her, and that I think is a gold standard to follow in the corporate world). Though I do have friends who have been called "corporate" and "sellouts", etc. because they wear nice pants and work in an office, that's not even remotely the crux of the issue for me. (Though I am, obviously, a corporate sellout who isn't true to myself, what with my lack of bad facial tattoos and all.) I already look the way I want to, aside from the ass size situation, which I'm dealing with. However, I just feel like what I do isn't... doing any good. I go in and help these big ass corporations deploy their software or get it working again so they can go about their business of making huge amounts of money, and it just seems so, I don't know, empty, in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps I am much more of a dirty hippie than I would like to admit. Except I take showers.

Though I have started a couple of my own companies, I can't dedicate much time to them, and I'd really like to. I'd also like to move in a career direction that might make me feel less annoyed overall. The main issue with my current job is that people get vein-poppingly upset over a piece of software not working the way they expect it to. I realize it's frustrating when shit doesn't work the way you want it to (thank you Mr. Gates), but the level of emotional involvement in something that seems so completely unimportant compared to, say, an ebola outbreak or the poverty epidemic or the entirety of southern California being aflame kind of bugs me a little.

So - I'm seriously thinking about leaving my job and going to work for a nonprofit. But then I think that I can do more good by staying in my current job and just continuing to donate 20% of my salary to charity every year. Walking away from a secure job that pays me quite well to deal with a bunch of monkeys that are overly attached to their blade servers when I struggled to make enough money to pay rent for so many years is also a difficult psychological hurdle to overcome. I realize that I'm fine now, financially, and I can actually afford to take a pay cut. So then when I don't, I kind of feel like a dick. Which is really fucking stupid, considering that I worked my ass off to get where I am. I don't know what that is - guilt or something - but it also doesn't help that friends and family continually make snarky comments when I buy a nice computer (business expense) or travel to Europe (cheap tickets, using points for hotels). It also makes me want to punch myself in the neck for feeling the need to parenthetically justify said spending.

I'm probably completely overthinking this. Everyone has aspects of their jobs that they hate, and everyone gets shit from family and sometimes friends about choices that they make because you can't fucking please any of you bastards. I should probably just suck it up and keep earning a decent paycheck so that I can keep myself in nice pants for a few more years and then retire at 40. Then I can move to a farm and raise goats and live off the land like a good little hippie. But I'll still take showers.


babbled by Kat @ 12:55:00 PM | |


Thursday, August 30, 2007

In which I shamelessly drool on another blogger:

Have I ever told you how much I love Bad News Hughes? My friend Sean thinks I have a crush on ol' Bad News, but who wouldn't, when he says things like this:

Lately I spend all my time on the couch, out of my mind on pills, drooling and watching TV. Im one swank jumpsuit and giant peanut butter and bacon sandwich away from becoming Elvis.

I always said this is what Id do if I got super rich. No philanthropy or adventure for me just the trouble-free emotional flatline that can only be delivered by the time-honored combination of daytime talk shows and prescription dope, periodically spiked with the frisson of cramming a handful of deep-fried cake icing in my mouth.

I mean... really. How can you not love that?

Anyway, go on over and read his blog, and if it makes you pee a little, welcome to the club and come join me in line at the drugstore for some more Depends. Oh, and go buy a copy of his book, Diary of Indignities, which will also make you pee, probably while you are sitting next to your dream girl on an airplane or a Greyhound bus or a prison transport or something. It'll be a story you can tell your grandkids.


babbled by Kat @ 3:10:00 PM | |


Sunday, August 26, 2007

In which I reveal mysterious things:

So, for a little over a year and a half now, I have been making veiled references to my lover, who has remained genderless in all of my posts. I pointed this out once or twice, leading people to not even try to guess, but to IM me all like, "omg, tell me!" Of course I caved, because I am a lameass pussy like that. Of course, I only have like 1.2 readers per month anymore. Like you even care. But something Super Huge happened recently, so I figured I should out my lover's gender.

By an interesting stroke of luck, my lover and I have birthdays that are one day apart, and this year they fell on a weekend. So we figured we should go out of town, and the town we chose was the other city that never sleeps, Las Vegas. I mean, nothing says "birthday extravaganza" like strippers, buffets, and gambling. So off we went. I didn't know the lover had a little something planned for the weekend.

While we were there, we enjoyed the company of friends, some gratuitous Klingon sightings, some poker (broke even) and roulette (came out ahead) and a show. In between all that, we got engaged.

That's right, bitches. I said engaged.

The proposal: very romantic. The ring: blingtastic. The proposer: of the male persuasion.

You heard that. I'm getting married in some semblance of a traditional manner. What. The. Fuck.

He's kind of a lesbian though. Even my lesbian friends think so. And they're way more butch than you.

Anyway, the fiance is a great guy - romantic, kind, considerate, helpful, affectionate, and a dynamo in the sack. And he has a beard that renders one speechless. You may view him (and his beard) in the photo area to the left. I'm rather fond of him, as you can imagine, since I'm such a cynical bitch that marriage would have never otherwise occurred to me. Fortunately, he thinks my comments about stabbing stupid bitches as we walk hand-in-hand through Union Square are amusing. Which means he must be the right one for me.

Enjoy my post-proposal joy:



babbled by Kat @ 10:04:00 PM | |


Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Growing and growing:

The lover and I went to L.A. this past weekend. While we were there I noticed my left wrist was kind of stiff and had random aches. On our flight back it felt a little worse, and by the time I woke up right before we landed it had graduated to a dull throb. After we got home, the lovarrr went to work and I took a nap sat down to a long day of working from home. When I woke up from the nap took a break from all my hard work, my wrist and hand hurt like a motherfucker. If I moved my wrist back, like I was pushing someone/something, it felt like I was being stabbed. Awesome!

So, despite my distaste for most doctors, I went to the doctor to get it checked out yesterday. I thought it was just a rockin' case of tendonitis, but I thought I should get it checked out just to be sure it wasn't a stress fracture or wrist-ebola or something. I was hoping that it was just a mild sprain and they would tell me that I needed to get it massaged, which would give me an excuse to go get a manicure. I love manicures. Because I'm a rich asshole.

Instead, the specialist they had me see (thank baby jesus for multi-doctor practices!) told me I have a ganglion cyst. Sexy! It's not sticking out like most examples you will see on the internerds. It's sneaky and hidden, kind of like that one ex-boyfriend I had that used to spy on me when I went out with my friends to see if I'd make out with other dudes or some shit. I need to get an MRI to see how big and how many cysts there are, and that will determine whether I need surgery or just occupational therapy.

Those of you who read this blog frequently (well, as frequently as I post anyway, which is... infrequently) know that I like to name things that grow on or in me. For example, last year, I found out I had a fibroid and named it Fred. So I figure since my wrist is having a synovial-fluid-filled baby, I should name it. After thinking about it for a bit, I decided on a name.

Lindsay. La Lohan if you're nasty.

Now, in light of the attention that Ms. Lohan's arrest is getting today you might think I am doing this because of her current media focus. Rather, I am doing it because I have enjoyed watching her career begin its spiral into what is sure to end up with B-movie soft-core porn. Also, after doing some research I discovered that my cyst is an occult (hidden) dorsal (on the back of the hand) ganglion, which kind of sounds like a satanic dolphin. Seems appropriate.

Do you see the resemblance?

Lindsay:


A ganglion cyst:


I don't know. I think it kind of fits.

The MRI is scheduled for next week. I'll be sure to post updates on my wrist-Lohan since I'm sure the one reader I have left will be on the edge of his or her seat. If you're really good, I'll post surgery photos. While you're eating dinner.


babbled by Kat @ 6:33:00 PM | |


Wednesday, July 04, 2007

I hate technology:

I arrived back at my place in L.A. yesterday to find that the DSL had stopped working yet again. Usually we just reset the modem about 7 times and eventually it reconnects, but not this time. After four(!) calls to AT&T's very friendly but completely ineffective technical support, I was told that it can't even be dealt with until at least tomorrow.

On the first call, my AT&T mobile phone dropped the call while they were doing a line test (so much for that "fewest dropped calls" bullshit). On the second, the person told me that there was an outage affecting the area, which was a line of bullshit because every single neighbor I have has AT&T DSL and they were fine. On the third, I got disconnected again(!) and on the fourth they finally told me that they think the problem is with the line but that their line maintenance department was already closed for the day and would also be closed today for the holiday.

Now, mind you, I have called AT&T for this DSL problem at least 4 separate times in the past (all of which involved multiple phone calls/callbacks like this one) and each time they told me the line was fine, it was the modem, or it was an outage, or whatever bullshit crap they decided to feed me that day. I am so fucking over them, but I am determined to get this fixed before I go back to NYC so that my roommate can have unlimited porn downloads again.

In other news, I got a red Blackberry Pearl, and in the meantime I can use it as a tethered modem for internet access. But getting that to work sucked a whole bunch of cocks too, and took about 4 hours of repeated phone calls to AT&T also. After threatening to drop every single AT&T service I have, they finally routed me to a nice Canadian fellow who talked to me like a person instead of a dumb girl who doesn't know anything about computers, and got the tethered modem working perfectly. All I needed was the goddamn initialization commands for the modem, but the first three people I talked to didn't know what I was talking about. So I'm going to write up a little tutorial on how to do it, since they apparently don't have it documented anywhere that their level 1-3 tech support people can find.

And on that note, I'm going to go make myself a nightcap and try to sleep through the fireworks and inevitable guns being shot in the air by my lovely ghetto-tastic neighbors.


babbled by Kat @ 8:54:00 PM | |


Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Shallow Kat:

Once again, I was in a city that I thought I wouldn't like that turned out to actually be pretty cool. Last time it was Pittsburgh, this time it was Cleveland. I was bummed that the Indians were out of town, since I like to go to baseball games and haven't checked that stadium off my list. (My goal is to go to every baseball stadium, but I only go when I am traveling for work, since I would never go to a lot of these places on my own. I much prefer to have other people fund my semi-apathetic baseball viewing aspirations.)

Instead I went to the fucking mall because I wanted to see which goddamn handbags and shoes were on sale. I did this even after I a) created a database cataloging all of my purses and shoes, categorized by designer and color, b) added up exactly how much I have spent on purses and shoes in the past two months and c) shot myself in the head for being that fucking shallow. While bleeding from a fresh head wound is bound to cause a saleslady or two to raise an eyebrow, I did manage to score some incredibly comfortable and cute loafers, and while doing so, mentally pruned the list of shit I have recently purchased and decided to return a bunch of it. Therefore, I am going to the other damn mall near(ish) to me in the next couple of days so that I can return two handbags and two pairs of shoes. (Not these skull ones though, as they are too cute to return. Plus I wore them already.)

I have been having some really odd dreams lately, too. Full moon? My subconscious trying to tell me I'm a shallow asshole? Or something else?


babbled by Kat @ 7:07:00 PM | |